Hold On

Garrett turned his attention to Cutler. “Been lookin’ for you too.”


Cutler did not look like he’d been on vacation. As Garrett pushed through his anger, he saw Cutler looked wrecked.

But he said nothing.

The male Fed entered the conversation. “Lieutenant Merrick…Haines, I’m Special Agent Jeff Harleman.” He tipped his head to the woman. “That’s Special Agent Tiffany Faria. What we’re about to explain is need-to-know. Since you’re investigating the murder of Wendy Derian, you need to know. However, it would be a significant blow to our investigation and strain relations between our organizations if you speak to anyone about what we’re about to tell you. That said, our hope is that you won’t have to keep this confidential for long.”

“We got relations between our organizations?” Mike asked a pertinent question.

“Not exactly,” Agent Tiffany Faria put in. “Though, we do have relations with IMDB and they’re in communication with your captain. So, although the Brownsburg Police Department isn’t a partner in this investigation, those who need to know are aware of what needs to be known.”

Garrett kept a lock on his irritation at the ridiculousness of how the Feds were communicating.

Instead, he focused on irritation he was practiced at controlling, thinking about their captain.

The man had become more politician than policeman. The fact that the Feds were operating even minutely on their patch and he hadn’t shared it with his officers was not a surprise.

It was fucking annoying.

But it wasn’t a surprise.

This was because if he shared it with his team, he couldn’t claim total responsibility for whatever bust went down, even if the only thing he did was pick up the phone and listen to the Feds tell him to steer his officers clear of any part of the investigation they were pursuing.

Yes.

Fucking annoying.

“Seein’ as clearly something that has to do with something you’re doin’ got Wendy Derian dead on BPD’s patch, how about you make us aware of what needs to be known,” Garrett clipped.

He was speaking to the agents.

But it wasn’t lost on him that anytime Wendy’s homicide was mentioned, Cutler, who was seriously unhappy, looked unhappier.

Both Faria and Harleman nodded, but it was Harleman who spoke.

“We currently have a large RICO investigation going against Carlos ‘Carlito’ Gutierrez.”

Fuck.

Carlito worked a wide area and only a small part of it was Hendricks County, a lesser part of that the ’burg. The Feds would follow all leads but focus on the largest part of his operation, which was in Indy.

“This investigation has been ongoing for a year and a half,” Harleman continued. “We’ve made allegiances with a variety of players and one of those players is Mr. Ryker, who’s acting as a confidential informant.”

Garrett cut a glance to Ryker, but this was not a surprise.

Ryker did not consider himself a rat and he’d probably rip your face off if you even suggested it.

As his profession, Ryker sold information and everyone was in the know about that. If you didn’t want him in your business, you did everything you could to keep him out. It was just that he had an uncanny talent for finding ways in.

If he liked you, though, he protected you and kept what he knew about you close. He’d never breathe a word, not even under torture.

Ryker didn’t like many people.

And as far as Garrett knew, the person he hated most was Carlito.

“As Gutierrez and Mr. Ryker are not the best of friends, and Mr. Ryker has a special skillset of which I’m told you’re aware, he’s been a significant asset in our investigation,” Harleman shared. “We were getting close to an arrest, and in order to dot some i’s, we needed Mr. Ryker to secure someone closer to Gutierrez’s operations. Mr. Cutler works with Gutierrez. However, he owed Mr. Ryker a variety of markers. Mr. Ryker acted as go-between, striking this deal for us that Cutler inform from the inside.”