Chapter 25

Jake blewinto the Metro PD precinct looking windswept. The biting spring weather couldn't seem to shake winter's grasp. An image of palm trees and sun setting over the clear blue sea flashed into his mind.

Maybe Jenkins wasn't wrong about the whole vacation idea.

Pushing his daydreams away, Jake focused on why he was here.

He passed his credentials to the officer behind the bulletproof glass and was buzzed in without any fanfare. Hartwell was easy enough to find thanks to his shiny new office.

"Nice digs," Jake greeted.

Hartwell was already shaking his head. "Shepard, I don't need flak from you right now. I've already got my hands full."

"What if I told you I was here to help?"

"I'd call bullshit."

Jake slapped his notebook down on Hartwell's cluttered desk. "If you're calling eyewitness accounts bullshit these days things must be going pretty well at Metro."

Hartwell stopped shuffling papers and grabbed the notebook, his eyes scanning Jake's notes. "Male, six-foot, small build, black hoodie, scythe." Hartwell's eyes snapped up to meet Jake's. "The witness used this word, scythe?"

"Yes."

Hartwell still had his finger hovering over the word scythe. "Is this legit?"

"I took the statement myself."

"I can't get you on the case, Shepard."

"I know. That's not why I'm here."

"Then how ‘bout you stop wasting my time and tell me what you want."

"Claire Townsend is the witness."

"That poor girl witnessed this mess?" He shook his head. "First the nightmare with the Card Killer and now this? Talk about tough luck."

"That's why I've gotta ask, is there any way you can get me access to the case files before you have to transfer everything to DOJ?"

"I'm sorry. I wish I could help, but DOJ is on my ass and I'm not looking to make any enemies over there."

"I get it." Jake took a seat in front of Hartwell's desk and eyed the stack of case folders. "But what do you say you step out to make copies of my witness account and I'll just wait here?"

Hartwell laughed. "Do I look like I was born yesterday? I don't think so."

"Hartwell, do me this solid and I'll owe you one."

"Yeah, a lot of good that'll do me when I get a pink slip for missing evidence."

"Nothing's gonna go missing. Stand here and watch me if you have to," Jake argued. "Hartwell, Claire's like a kid sister to me. I have to know I did everything in my power to make sure nothing was missed that could put her in danger."

Hartwell stood and crossed his arms. "Are you saying you don't think I can do my job?"

"I think it's been established that we're both good at our jobs," Jake rebutted, holding Hartwell's stare.

"Fine." He picked up his desk phone and dialed an extension. Jake couldn't hear the voice on the other end, but Hartwell's message was clear. "I need you in my office," was all he said before hanging up.

Jake was momentarily wondering if he was about to get a police escort out of the building. But when a fresh-faced officer poked his head in, Jake regained his composure. He had about a hundred pounds on the officer, leaving him confident he could still walk out with his dignity.

"Lennox, I need you to make one copy of each of these pages. Go directly to the copier and directly back, and if you show anyone else what's on these pages, I'll assign you to the drunk tank for the rest of your career."

"Got it," Lennox said, taking the notebook and hurrying away.

Hartwell opened the folders on his desk. "You've got till he gets back."

Jake grinned. "That's all I need."