The Second Life of Nick Mason (Nick Mason #1)(53)

A police photographer was standing on the far side of the bathroom, his shoes covered with white fabric. He adjusted his camera setting and took another picture, blinding Sandoval with the flash.

“Weapon?” Sandoval said.

“In the sink,” the photographer said without looking up at him. “Don’t come in.”

The photographer took another shot. Then another.

Sandoval stepped away from the door, around the partition, and back into the main room. He found a young detective from Area North a few feet away, writing something on his pad.

“Anybody see anything?” Sandoval asked him.

“Nothing,” the detective said. “Staff said he had a whole posse with him, took over that corner over there. Four or five other black men, depending on who you ask. One white woman. But they were all gone before we got here.”

That’s when Sandoval heard the heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Three seconds later, a new group of men spilled out into the room like they were invading the place. A half dozen of them, all in dark suits. It was SIS.

“What the f*ck,” the young detective said. He went off to talk to the first man he could find until Sandoval saw Sergeant Bloome making his entrance.

“SIS is taking this one,” he heard Bloome say.

Sandoval wasn’t surprised. They take over yet another case. They stay in control.

“Okay, Sergeant,” the detective said. “It’s all yours.”

Sandoval watched all the other cops follow the detective down the stairs. Even the photographer. Sandoval took half a step forward. Pure physical reaction. Then he stopped himself. In that one instant, he had made his decision.

The first time he had run into Bloome, the man had treated him like nothing more than a nuisance. The second time, he had tried to intimidate him and pump him for information.

This was the third time, and Sandoval wasn’t leaving. It was time to face the man. He knew he couldn’t outpunch him, but maybe he could wear him down, wait for an opening. Finally get to him.

There was only one answer to intimidation. Exposure.

He took a breath and swallowed. Bloome spotted him and crossed the room.

“Sandoval,” he said, “you deaf? Get the f*ck out of here.”

“I don’t take orders from SIS,” Sandoval said. “I’m still working my own case.”

Bloome paused a moment to consider that. “Not here,” he said.

“How come you get so nervous every time you see me, Bloome?”

Bloome raised his eyebrows. Two other SIS detectives, both within earshot, stopped and turned to listen in.

“Look at you,” Sandoval said. “Why are you so concerned about me? A dead SIS sergeant, then a dead major dealer, four days apart? You worried about a connection?”

“You think you can stand there and ask me questions like I’m some goof you just picked up off the street?”

Stay cool, Sandoval told himself. Here’s where he tries to end it in one punch. The harder he comes on, the more you lay back. That’s how you get to him.

That’s how you drag this whole thing into the light.

“How many homicide detectives they got in this city right now?” Bloome said. “How many hundreds of you guys are out there and your clearance rate is what, forty percent? Fifty in a good year? That’s a f*cking joke, Sandoval. You guys are an embarrassment. That’s why they put us together, so they got some real cops around here who know what the f*ck they’re doing. I’d let you stick around and watch if I thought you’d learn something.”

A few more SIS officers were looking over at them. Sandoval could see it on their faces. Nobody ever talked to Bloome this way.

“Can you believe this guy?” Bloome said, looking around at his men and smiling.

You’re getting closer, Sandoval told himself. You can read it in his body language, the way he’s tensing up, the way he’s standing taller, like an alley cat getting ready to fight. He doesn’t know how to handle this.

“Maybe I call your sergeant,” Bloome said. “How ’bout we call him, have him explain this to you?”

“Why waste time with my sergeant?” Sandoval said. “Let’s go to the captain. Or maybe the chief. Let’s have Internal Affairs sit in and make it a party. Then the feds. I bet the DEA would love a look.”

“There’s no connection between this case and the murder of Ray Jameson.”

“Then why are you sweating?”

Bloome stood there, looking at him. You caught him, Sandoval thought. You slipped your way through and you just f*cking caught him. Now don’t let up.

“Maybe you should call your union rep,” Sandoval said. “Lawyer up, tell them everything.”

Bloome had a slight smile on his face. “You think you got something? You got that feeling you’ve turned up a big case? That rush?”

Bloome took a step closer to him.

“You’re not exactly walking around in a white suit yourself, Sandoval. Everybody knows your partner’s dirty. How long would it take me and my crew to find something on you, huh? Five minutes?”

Sandoval held his ground.

“This is our city,” Bloome said, looking down at him. “You should know that by now. We run it and everyone else is just a visitor.”