The Night Shift(30)



Chris rubs his shoulder involuntarily. Whenever his thoughts drift to Rusty, no matter how hard he tries to fend them off, his hand always goes to the indentation on the ball of his shoulder. He can still feel the cigar like a cattle brand and smell the burning flesh. That time it hadn’t been for some trivial offense, like drinking the last soda. He’d been nine years old and was defending Mom, who lay bloody on the kitchen floor. Chris had been terrified. Vince normally was the brave one. But his big brother was out. Chris stepped between Rusty and Mom. And he paid for it. In his view, it had been one of his finest moments. Still the most courageous thing he’s ever done.

Where has that brave kid gone? Has Rusty stolen that from him too? He needs to find that bold side of himself: quit playing it safe. Leave this job. Start over. Do something to help kids like him, who’ve grown up victims by sheer chance. He supposes that, in a way, he’s doing that for Brenda. But for her, it isn’t a parent tearing her apart bit by bit. It’s a bag of white crystals.

He examines Brenda. She’s so damn thin.

“You hungry?”

“A Cherry Coke and chips would be nice.” She smiles, and he fights the urge to look away.

Chris has a rule never to buy vending-machine snacks for his clients. He’d made that mistake early in his career at the PD’s office and word had gotten around inside the jail. The characters in lockup started requesting him as their public defender simply for the food.

But Brenda is getting to him. He thinks of that first photo in her file. If only someone could’ve gotten through to that girl. It’s just so goddamned sad.

He stands, knocks on the door. The officer lets him out. He ventures to the vending machines and buys the drink and some Doritos.

Back in the room, they talk more about her options. He recommends a plea. They have her dead to rights on possession. He doesn’t tell her, but he’s going to call in a favor a prosecutor owes him to get her a good deal.

Brenda listens intently as she eats the Doritos, her fingers smeared in orange. She sips the Cherry Coke like it’s vintage cognac.

Ultimately, she agrees to let Chris broker a plea. Something with no jail time. Treatment.

He feels good about that. It’s worth calling in the favor. Maybe this time it will be different for her. Maybe she’ll escape. Get back with her family. Fix her teeth, get some meat on those bones. Live a nice life. Have kids. A family of her own.

“I think we can make this work, Brenda.” He smiles. “But before I approach the prosecutor, I want to make sure this is your decision, that you understand all the options. I’ll be by your side no matter what you decide. My job is to tell you the risks of each option, my views on the best choice, but it’s your decision.”

“I understand.”

“Great.” Chris scoops up the paperwork and puts it back in the folder. “Any other questions?”

“Just one,” Brenda says.

Chris nods for her to continue.

“If I suck your dick, will you get me another Cherry Coke?”





CHAPTER 25


KELLER





Keller pulls her Volvo into the lot of Workers Insurance Company headquarters next to Atticus’s tiny car. Atticus lifts his small frame out of the vintage MG. Vintage is being kind, since the vehicle’s a wreck. Blistering paint, a soft-top repaired with duct tape, a dented fender.

He gives her his trademark beaming smile. Despite his doe-eyed, aw-shucks demeanor, Atticus is sharp. Analytical. He’s a data person like her. And he has something you can’t teach most young law-enforcement professionals—he doesn’t need to hear himself talk. He listens, observes. He doesn’t have anything to prove. And he’s not one to tell you how things really are. He soaks things in. When he speaks, it tends to matter. Hal’s right, he’ll be a good detective once he gets some seasoning. Maybe that’s why Hal assigned him to Keller. No, Hal probably thinks she needs a little seasoning herself.

“They know we’re coming?” Keller asks.

“Yep. Got us an appointment with the department head.”

“You tell them who we’re here to see?”

He shakes his head. Not confidently, like he’s unsure it was the right call. “The notes in the file said this guy acted unusually during the investigation, was uncooperative, but it didn’t give a reason why, so I thought he might refuse to see us. Better to ask forgiveness than permission and all that.” He smiles again.

Keller nods.

Before they head in, Atticus gives Keller a look.

“Something the matter?” she asks.

“Um, I don’t know if you’re on social media, but there’s this video from yester—”

“I’ve seen it,” Keller cuts him off, signaling she doesn’t want to talk about it. Stan still hasn’t gotten back to her, so it’s giving her anxiety. For his part, Bob has texted her several GIFs: a clip of Will Ferrell in Anchorman regalia saying, “That’s the most badass thing I’ve ever seen.” Another of Chuck Norris giving the camera a simmering gaze: “You’re a badass.”

Inside, they’re met by a guy in a suit that’s seen better days. He escorts them to his office. The company’s in-house lawyer is there as well.

“What can we do for you, Agent Keller?” the lawyer says. He wears a tie that has a stain on it. Workers is a low-cost insurance provider, and company culture is obviously no-frills. You don’t want to show up in a nicer suit or car than the CEO.

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