Chapter 41

41

Chief Cox

Cox slouched in the chair across from Culling, who ignored him while talking on his cellphone. Not a single black hair on the mayor’s head stood out of place, and the slicked back style glistened under the office lights. Must’ve been in his thirties, Cox guessed, but the lack of wrinkles and the smooth surface of his skin, lacking any sort of texture, swiped ten years off his guess. Clearly, the asshole put too much time into his beauty regimen. No man should look like he caked on a bunch of fuckin’ makeup before coming to work, yet, the patch of red at Culling’s cheeks almost looked like the bastard’d blushed ‘em.

“I’ll figure it out. I’ll come up with something and call you back.” Culling rubbed his forehead in what seemed like distress. “Thanks for calling.” He flipped off the phone and, tossing it onto his desktop, cupped his face with both hands and let out a string of muffled curses.

Christ. Cox had come to him with the developments on the case—a task he never looked forward to, as it seemed his efforts were never enough for the asshole— yet, he had a feeling he was about to get roped into whatever shit-storm had just stolen the first half hour of their meeting.

Culling’s hands slid down his smooth face, and for the first time, Cox had a good look at his eyes, dark and bloodshot. “Please tell me you’re here because you’ve found my fucking wife.”

Cox had known the bastard long enough to recognize the daunting calm to his voice as the placid moment before the fucker snapped into a hurricane of rage. Straightening in his chair, he sniffed and cleared his throat, muscles tense. “We, uh … got reason to believe there’s a connection between this Eye for an Eye killer and Mrs. Culling.”

“Reason to believe.” The articulation of every word set Cox’s spine tingling, like the instincts animals had when preparing themselves to flee. “And what, pray tell, brilliant sleuthing brought you to this conclusion?”

“Found a video of the Theodore Street massacre from three years ago. Looks like someone connected to that family might be out for revenge.”

“Theodore massacre. Would this be the same fucking video that just hit a major news station about an hour ago?”

Cox frowned. “I’m sorry, sir. What?”

“That call was my Chief of Staff, telling me that the city is going ballistic over a story that, apparently, went viral on social media earlier today and ended up on the evening news. There are rumblings of a massive protest planned for Devil’s Night. They’ve come up with an endearing name for it—The Culling Conspiracy.” The pounding of his fist against the desktop had Cox flinching. “I, somehow, have to answer to thousands of residents wanting to know how I could overlook and suppress such an atrocity. They’re questioning my methods of crime reduction in this city, and when they begin to question, they begin to dig. And when they dig, they begin to rebel. And when they rebel, you have a fucking anarchy and the Detroit Riot of ’sixty-seven knocking at your door! I have every king pin in this city ready to help me take down some of these hellhole neighborhoods that suck the life right out of this goddamn shit stain on the fucking map, and now I have to find something shiny enough to distract the restless flock of jobless hippies who have nothing better to do than save humanity between tokes of their fucking peace pipes! This has Achilleus X written all over it. Now, perhaps you might explain how a dormant video managed to go viral on the same day you happened to discover it?”

Like a thunderclap inside Cox’s head, Culling’s words jolted the clues that’d been swimming around his mind the last couple of days. Vaughn. Achilleus X. Could there have been a connection? “We got a tip from the guy who owns the apartment where we found the video. Some Alec Vaughn. I don’t yet know how he’s linked to Theodore Street, or why, but this Vaughn … he’s one sick son of a bitch. Might be tight with Achilleus X. Like some kinda faction, or something.”

“Then, I suggest you pull your finger out of your asshole and make sure you find him first. Does anyone else know about this Vaughn?”

“Another cop. DeMarcus Corley.” A twinge of fury licked Cox’s spine at the mention of Corley.

“Make sure he keeps his fucking mouth shut. You’re going to need an element of surprise in order to catch this one, if he’s as slick as Achilleus X.”

“I’ll make sure DeMarcus doesn’t say a word.”

“In the meantime, I have to find a way to distract an entire city.”

Cox leveled his gaze on Culling. “How can I help?”

“Devil’s Night is coming up. They’re going to see me as much a victim as any one of them. I’m going to tell them, in my most gut-wrenching performance, that my wife was kidnapped and may have been murdered by their hero, their beloved Achilleus X. After all, he did threaten that I should watch what I value most. And I’m going to offer a reward to anyone who has information on her whereabouts. You are going to find her. And when you do, I want both of them brought to me alive.”

“I’ll find them.”

“Good.” Culling straightened his cuffs and sniffed. “Because if you don’t, the city will soon be looking to fill a spot for their Chief of Police, who met his unfortunate and untimely demise while sleeping peacefully in his cozy little bed.”