16. It Takes One to Know One

Riggs

Riggs'd had a shitty afternoon.

Part of it was, he was, right then, standing outside Bubbles's hospital room with Harry after hearing the doctor say that they'd brought Bubbles out of the coma, but he hadn't regained consciousness yet.

Before that, he'd gone with Harry to The Hole to have a look in the storeroom, and he was able to report that the other bottles of wine he'd seen in the locked cabinet were gone. Though he couldn't say exactly the number that had been there, or report if anything else was missing, because he hadn't paid that close of attention.

He'd also given Harry Bubbles's story about tasting it in Sonoma a couple of years ago and buying a case. However, he didn't share his suspicions that his friend had been lying about where he got that wine. Mostly because he didn't have to, Harry figured that out on his own.

And he felt like a dick, and a snitch (but not too much of one since Nadia had been dragged into this crap), when he shared that Bubbles had mentioned women named Candy and Barbie. Two women Riggs didn't know, nor did Harry, and between the two of them, Riggs reckoned they knew five sixths of the population of Misted Pines, though a bit less of the entirety of Fret County.

He'd gone to the hospital with Harry to interrogate Bubbles if he'd regained consciousness, not only because he wanted to hear what that fucker had to say, but also because he could tell Harry if the man was lying.

Unfortunately, they didn't get to do that part.

In the midst of this, Harry reported to Riggs that Rus and Karen Wilkins, another FC deputy, had been looking around outside Nadia's cabin while they were inside, and apparently whoever this was didn't take the time to cover their tracks like the "ghosts" did.

Therefore, with all the rain from the day before making the dirt wet, they had tons of tracks leading from the road to and all around the cabin, including Nadia's back door, and back to the road, where they also found tire tracks that suggested a truck or an SUV had pulled off to the side and parked.

They were canvassing the people who lived on the road to see if they'd noted a vehicle parked there, and Harry had asked Riggs to call Nadia to ask the same.

She hadn't.

The canvass wasn't done. With Bubbles's security system at the bar being out of action, so no camera footage, and nothing pinging so far with prints and blood and other samples they collected from the bar, except Bubbles's own blood and prints, and prints of staff (although they'd identified some blood from another source, they just had yet to identify that source), until Bubbles woke up, they had nothing.

Except now they had the fact that someone really wanted to get that wine back.

If it cost five hundred bucks a pop, times twelve (if there had been a case of it), Riggs could almost see that.

But to expend that effort for one of twelve bottles, when they'd already recovered ten, it was clear something else was up.

Harry felt the same. And since it was Riggs who bought two bottles, and whoever was behind it knew Nadia was going to get one of them (something only Bubbles could tell them, which gave indication of what he gave up during his beating), and they only recovered one, this meant his house could be on their radar. Therefore, Harry had parked a deputy in his driveway after Riggs left Nadia there.

His mom was picking Ledger up from school and taking him home, which was where Riggs wanted to be, because he'd had a bottled smoothie for breakfast, no lunch, he was fucking hungry, and he wanted to see his kid…and Nadia.

Harry got close and Riggs shook off his thoughts to focus on him.

"I'm gonna tell you something that's only for you to know. My team knows, but if you get a shot to have a chat with Bubbles, with or without me, I want you to bear it in mind."

"So I can tell you what he says," Riggs filled in what he left out.

"You don't want this shit sorted?"

"I know he's a fuckup, but Bubbles is a friend," Riggs replied.

"A friend, who Nadia is lucky she didn't come home earlier and catch this?—"

"I wasn't finished," Riggs gritted, ticked that Harry interrupted him, and not about to think of Nadia coming home when whoever broke in was there.

Harry jerked up his chin.

"He's obviously gotten mixed up in some serious shit, Harry," Riggs reminded him. "And I'm pissed as all hell at him right now, but I haven't forgotten he got the shit knocked out of him a couple of days ago, so bad they had to induce a coma."

"And you're worried about him."

"Well…yeah," Riggs said sarcastically.

"So me finding the person who did it to him would be good."

"Yeah again. And no shade on the job you do, but first, you gotta take your time with it and be thorough. Second, you got rules you gotta adhere to, which is why your job takes so much time. Third, like I told you, Nadia and me already drank the other bottle, and they might have gone through her recycling and seen it, or they might still be searching for it. So last, I got my kid and Nadia at my house, and Nadia is already more mixed up in this shit than I want her to be. I want it nowhere near my son. In short, I want this done, and done fast, without anyone else I care about getting beat to hell or freaked the fuck out."

"I hear you, so can I say what I have to say?" Harry asked quietly.

This time, Riggs jerked up his chin.

"There's been a string of robberies through Chelan and Fret counties," Harry told him. "And one of them, the victim reported a case of wine, valued at five thousand dollars, was stolen."

Riggs blew out a breath.

And then he asked, "You got more?"

"Only that this is very organized. And we've had eyes on Bubbles for a while, because this isn't the first time he's fenced stolen goods for one of his less law-abiding buds."

Yeah.

Damn.

Bubbles was a fucking doofus.

"However," Harry carried on, "you don't beat the shit out of your fence unless he's done you dirty. So there's a lot of scenarios that could be at play here. Either he was supposed to hold onto that wine for some reason, and they were pissed he sold a couple of bottles to you. Or he wasn't supposed to have that wine, maybe he stole it from the people who stole it, or he was holding it for people who went up against the big man, and now all their asses are swung out there. Or there's something more here I'm not seeing, because it makes a big statement to beat the crap out of a guy to grab some wine and then go out of your way to break into someone's house to regain possession of a single bottle of it."

"Right."

"We need Bubbles to talk because the unknown has a way of escalating, Riggs. And a man beaten nearly to death is already farther than I want this to escalate. That means he'll have security, so he'll be good. It also means we'll get the word out we recovered that last bottle, and it was not only spent, but it's now in the possession of law enforcement."

"Obliged."

"But when you talk to him, if I'm there, or I'm not, I need you to get him talking about whatever he's messed up in before things escalate. I want a pin in this, Riggs, and I need your help to do that."

"I can't shake him conscious, Harry. My hands are as tied as yours. But if what you're not saying is that you think I'll back some fool play of Bubbles's, or close ranks to protect a gang of thugs who violate people's homes because I don't want people to think I'm a rat, then you can fuck off."

"You're not your dad, Riggs. I know that. Everyone does."

"Then I'm not sure what your fuckin' problem is."

"My problem is," he stabbed a finger toward Bubbles's room. "I got a man beat to shit. I got some idiots messing with one of my citizens, trying to convince her she's being haunted. That citizen also happens to be worth half a billion dollars. And that fact is really not hard to come by. And I got an organized and efficient crew of burglars, who so far have hit over eleven homes and businesses and stolen over a million dollars' worth of property and might cotton on I got a vodka heiress on my patch. And topping that, I might be reopening a fifteen-year-old murder that has kept Misted Pines in its thrall since it happened, and I already know what I'm gonna see when I open that file. Confession or not, it'll be shoddy police work that's gonna remind my county that the man who had my office before me was a piece of shit. And if it's found out the Whitaker murders weren't investigated correctly and the wrong man went away for that crime, people are gonna wonder what other files need to be reopened. Which will mean I'll be the ringleader of a shitshow. I've already had that job once when I took over for him, and I don't want it back. This all on the heels of six murders that caught national attention. So right now, I got some footprints, tire prints, and an unconscious man going for me. Which isn't fucking much. So, when it comes to you, all I'm doing is asking a friend to help."

"I hear you, Harry," Riggs said low. "And not once have I said I wasn't gonna take your back. But just to note, that vodka princess has come to mean something to me, so this is your job, and I get your job means a lot to you, but this is also pretty fuckin' personal to me too."

"Right, since we're being honest with each other, I'll repeat, you're not your dad."

"I know that," Riggs ground out.

"Good. So that means you'll stop fuckin' around with a woman who clearly does it for you. It hasn't been long since you've known her, but I have never in my life seen you the way I saw you with Nadia today. Not the way you hauled ass out of my station to get to her, not the way you bickered with her at her front door. Fuck, man, you shot out of your chair simply because you got a call from her."

Riggs had no response to that, but even if he did, he wouldn't have been able to say it because Harry kept at him.

"You're not gonna beat her, Riggs, because you're not that man. You're not gonna steal from her, because she's got a lot, but you aren't hurting, though mostly because you're not that man. And you're not gonna put her in danger by doing asshole shit with asshole people."

Riggs cut in at that, at the same time burying the rest, "Right, and buying that bottle from Bubbles didn't put her in it?"

"That's on Bubbles, it's not on you. You know you got a woman who knows expensive things on your hands, and you wanted a decent apology. If I had a friend who owned a bar, I'd go to him and swing a deal on a bottle of wine that'd cost me a shit ton more if I went to the liquor store. It makes sense. It's Bubbles that put you both in it, not you. Though, I'll note, you missed my whole fuckin' point."

"Right, we'll talk about me getting serious with Nadia after we talk about you getting your head out of your ass and realizing you're pissing your life away. I loved her, fuck knows you loved her, but your woman died a long time ago, Harry. You'll never get over it, but she'd be pissed as all fuck at you that you stopped living when she did, even if you didn't quit breathing."

Harry's face was stone when he said, "I think we're done here."

"I coulda guessed you'd shut down the minute you heard that honesty."

"I hate to take us back to the playground, brother, but it takes one to know one."

They scowled at each other.

Riggs was angry, hungry, and he wanted to be with his son and Nadia, so he ended it.

"I get a shot at Bubbles, I'll do all I can," he bit off.

"Appreciate it," Harry bit back.

Riggs walked by him to get the fuck out of there.

"Riggs!" Harry called.

Goddammit.

He turned back.

"You shrug off the baggage he landed on you, I'll consider finding my way to do the same," Harry said.

Goddammit.

"She lives in Chicago, man."

"Rus lived in Virginia, now he's here. Delphine lived in Cali, now she's here. Stop putting up walls."

"She's not my type. We're total opposites. She can barely climb up in my truck."

"And Delphine is an award-winning author, and famous actress, and she's with a retired FBI profiler. And Rus is former FBI, living with a woman who runs a burlesque club. Got more?"

He didn't, damn it.

"Fuck off," Riggs bid, earning a dirty look from a passing nurse.

Harry cracked a smile.

Goddamn.

He flipped his friend the bird.

Then he got the fuck out of there.