15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Aaron

"M urphy Beckett is the common denominator, but we need something firmer than a membership card and a bank transaction," I say, putting my feet on Coleson's desk like it's mine.

He doesn't wave me away, but he looks at my shoes like they're insects. I don't move my feet, though. I'm so exhausted that I could close my eyes and be in dreamland in under a minute. Coleson must understand because he stands and walks to the small coffee maker in his office. He quickly fills the water and adds grounds.

"I've been through everything," he says, going back to his desk and tapping his fingers as the smell of coffee fills the room. Just the smell perks me up a little. "I can't make something appear from thin air."

I crane my neck to look behind me where Mitchell sits in a folding chair against the wall. He looks as tired as I feel. Did he have a long night, too? He looks twitchy today, and it annoys me for some reason. Maybe it's because I worked all day yesterday, packed up my children, drove two hours to Cynthia's mother's, drove back, and spent an hour of restless sleep with Lucy in my arms, but I want to punch Mitchell's face. Does he really know worry and exhaustion?

I slept with Lucy in my arms for a good hour but woke when I heard something outside. It was probably the neighbor's dog, but my protective instinct kicked in, and I pulled Lucy tighter to me. Then, I had other ideas. Filthy ideas. They kept me up until it was time to get ready for work, needling me as she was so close to my body, but I couldn't do what I want with her. I can't remember the last time I had such a frustrating erection – probably when we dated before and were only at the hand job stage of our relationship.

"Any ideas from the peanut gallery?" I ask, directing my question to Mitchell. I wouldn't normally ask his opinion for shit, but I'm also out of ideas.

Mitchell bites his lip and looks out of Coleson's window. "Dunno, boss. Maybe it's easier than what we're making it out to be."

I sit up in my seat, interested to hear what Mitchell is suggesting. Coleson hands me a mug of coffee. "What do you mean? This is a hard case."

Mitchell takes a breath like he's going to recite a long Shakespearean monologue, and then promptly closes his mouth again. Is he afraid to voice his opinion at work? Does he know something about this case? Whatever it is, silence won't get you far in police work.

I take a drink of the bitter coffee and shake my head a bit to wake up. "Out with it. If you have an idea, you should share it, Deputy, or you'll never move up the ladder."

"Yes, sir. It's just…have we looked at the club?"

"The club?"

"The strip club that, well, the one Lucy works at."

I glare at Mitchell, and he practically shrinks into the wall. "Lucy has nothing to do with this investigation. She's told me Murphy runs drugs through there and threatens the women. What does that have to do with Todd Daniels? Murphy is her cousin by marriage, and she stays far away. That's the extent of Lucy's involvement."

"Guys go to the club with friends sometimes. Has anyone at the club ever seen Murphy Beckett with guests?"

I glance at Coleson, and he raises his eyebrows. He likes the idea.

I turn back to Mitchell. "Strippers don't talk much. Lucy would have mentioned if he was there with people, though."

"She's not there all the time. I think Lucy works mostly day hours, right?"

The room goes quiet, and I lean forward in my chair, not blinking. "How the fuck do you know Lucy's work hours?"

If Mitchell wanted to blend into the wall before, he wants to sprint from the room now. His face reddens, and his eyes widen like a child that just got caught stealing bubblegum. "Um."

"Don't fucking ‘um' me. Do you watch Lucy dance?"

"I, uh…" His voice trails away, and he pops his knuckles. "Sir, I didn't know it was your ex-girlfriend. I went there after work a few times. It was three in the afternoon. I put it together that she may not have the middle of the night hours."

"You've seen her dance? Did you put dollars in her string?" I ask, my voice shaking. "Fucking hell, please tell me you've never been in the VIP room."

"Don't answer that, Mitchell," Coleson interrupts.

"Who are you? His fucking lawyer?"

Coleson laughs and picks a stress ball up off his desk. "Nah. I'm just the guy not wanting workplace drama. We know she's your girl now, Sheriff, but she's a stripper. Men in this town have seen her body." He looks over my shoulder and smiles at Mitchell. "You going to go watch your boss's girl dance on a pole now that you know she's your boss's girl?"

"No, sir. Never." Mitchell looks at the floor. "And I've never been to the VIP room. I swear to fucking God."

"Let's explore your idea," Coleson says, taking control of the conversation. "Dwyer," he says, snapping me out of thoughts of strangling Mitchell. "Let's focus. Can we get video footage of Murphy with someone there?"

I shrug. "Maybe. I'll talk to Peter."

"Good. I don't think it's a bad idea since we have nothing else. If we can tie Murphy to Cannon, which we can through financial records, and to Todd Daniels with something besides a membership card, I think we have a chance at a warrant."

I stand up and take my coffee mug with me. It's the only thing keeping me moving right now. "I'll talk to Peter and go through the tapes. I know Murphy Beckett and can easily identify him in grainy footage better than a rookie that's never met him."

"Sounds good. Let me know if you find anything."

"It could take days. Literally."

"Well, you'll probably have to watch them at the club. At least you'll be near Lucy while you do it."

Perks.