Fatal Reckoning (Fatal #14)(85)

The chief seemed momentarily stunned. “Where’s that coming from?”

“His name has come up twice today.”

“How so?”

“I spoke with Alice Coyne Fitzgerald, and she mentioned that he was in your group at the academy, which somehow I didn’t know. And then I mentioned to Captain Malone that we might want to check to see if Conklin called anyone after you two went to talk to him the other night. He called three people—his wife, his skeevy lawyer and Gallagher.”

Farnsworth’s expression grew thunderous. “I thought you weren’t working the Conklin case.”

“I’m not. I merely suggested to the captain that the call info might be worth having. He’s the one who followed up.”

“I have to go.”

“Where?”

“To see Roy Gallagher.”

“Um, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“It’s a very good idea, because if he’s in any way wrapped up in this, I’m going to kill him with my own hands.” He turned and headed out of the pit, toward the lobby.

“Chief, wait. Maybe you shouldn’t…” Sam wasn’t sure how to suggest to her boss that he not do what he was about to do.

Farnsworth whirled around to face her, and Sam nearly collided with him. “Go back to work, Lieutenant. That’s an order.”

The fierceness of his gaze surprised her as she rarely saw him so worked up about anything. Clearly the name Roy Gallagher had struck some sort of nerve in him. “I’m saying this as your friend, not your colleague.” Sam spoke softly but had his attention. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

He gave a sharp nod to acknowledge her and walked away, his stride determined.

Watching him go, Sam had a sinking feeling that things were going to get worse before they got better.





      CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


FURY. THAT WAS the only word to describe the feeling that had overtaken Joe when Sam mentioned Roy Gallagher’s name. That arrogant, high-handed, self-serving son of a bitch. If he’d had anything to do with Skip’s shooting, Joe would see him strung up. He walked by Helen, who held up a stack of messages.

Joe took them from her without comment and continued into his office, slamming the door behind him.

Roy Gallagher.

The name took him back to the earliest days of his career, beginning with the academy, where he’d met the men who became his closest friends and colleagues. Gallagher had been in their class, but he’d never been one of them. After a year on the force, he’d left to pursue loftier ambitions that had included a run for city council. To Joe’s surprise, Gallagher had won that election and reelection every two years since, making him the longest-standing member of the city council.

Anytime he ran into Gallagher at City Hall, he made a point of reminding Joe that he’d supported his bid to be chief, almost as if Joe owed him something in return. The hell he did. He’d received a unanimous mandate from the council when he’d been hired as chief, and he didn’t owe that swine Gallagher a damned thing.

Joe had never forgotten the night that Gallagher made a play for Marti when they were first dating. He’d actually told Marti she could “do better” than boring old Joe, and that she ought to go out with him instead. Marti had told Roy to go to hell, but Joe had never forgiven his former “friend” for the blatant disrespect. That’d been the end of their so-called friendship for Joe. Who needed friends like that? But Conklin had stayed close to Gallagher over the years, and as such, Joe and Marti had been forced to socialize with him on occasion. Neither of them ever gave him more than a passing hello to keep from being rude.

Running his fingers through his hair, Joe tried to get himself together. Sam was right. Going off on a rogue mission to give Gallagher a piece of his mind wasn’t going to help anything, and it could actually make things worse. So he did what he always did when things got to be too much for him. He called Marti.

“Hi, hon. This is a nice surprise.”

“I need you to talk some sense into me.”

“How come?”

“You won’t believe whose name has come up in the reenergized investigation into Skip’s shooting.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Gallagher.”

Her gasp echoed through the phone. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Wish I was.”

“What does he have to do with it?”

“Perhaps nothing, but he was one of three people Conklin called after Jake and I confronted him the other night. The other two were his wife and lawyer.”

“Do you think he had something to do with Skip’s shooting?”

“I don’t know what to think. In light of this new information, Sam is taking another look at Steven Coyne’s shooting too.”

“Oh, Joe. Oh my God.”

“I should’ve retired when you wanted me to last year. If I had, none of this would be my problem.”

“Even if you had retired, you’d still want to know who shot Skip—and Steven.”

“Yes, you’re right. I would’ve wanted to know.” He sighed and took a seat behind his desk, mentally and physically exhausted. “Is it possible people we’ve known for decades could’ve been behind these unsolved shootings?”