So, the question earlier about my South Bay Metro case was just to assess my honesty and had nothing to do with this deposition. What the fuck has Harrison pulled off?
I take a moment to think. “Unofficially, last May when it was brought to my attention. Officially, last June when I’d gotten low-level clearance from Captain Munick.”
“And you are aware that once you receive clearance, at no matter what level, the case is then officially open to the Criminal Bureau of Investigations, correct?”
“Yes,” I mumble.
“Please speak up, Sergeant Lombardi,” A.G. Harris commands.
WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS ABOUT?
“Yes,” I state affirmatively.
“Have you questioned either of the unofficial persons of interest?” Pennington continues.
I watch as the Leu’s and A.G. Harris scribble busily into their pads and notebooks.
“Yes.”
“Please state which unofficial persons of interest and when you questioned them,” Pennington follows up.
“Spoke with Detective Harrison on two occasions last year: once in May and a second time in July. I met with Azmir Jacobs in October. I’m sorry, I don’t have the specific dates to present, I wasn’t exactly prepared for this…event,” I offer candidly.
“No need,” Pennington returns. “We have them.” He goes on writing for a few moments before continuing with, “In October, when you met with Mr. Jacobs, did you also encounter a Ms. Tracy Edwards?”
My mouth goes fucking dry. I find my eyelids falling as I exhale harshly.
Mother fuck me! This is my ass!
~~~~~~~~~~
As I walk to my pickup, feeling light from the confiscation of my desk revolver, I’m seething. This is one of many issues I have with CBI policy: they focus on the wrong shit. I’m being reprimanded for compromising an investigation by having an affair with an associate of the unofficial suspect.
Fuck! Tracy has no idea of the investigation.
And as a result of poor policy by California’s finest, a goddamned drug lord gets to flood the streets with his fucking poison. The shit infuriates me!
I slam the door to my truck close. Anger builds from my belly and I explode, pounding my palms into the steering wheel. Once I let up, I rest my spinning head on the wheel to allow my racing heart to slow.
I swear to fucking holy hell, Jacobs. I’m going to get you. I will hit you where it hurts. I don’t know how…and I know where just yet, but you can bet on it!
~~~~~~~~~~
Rayna
I’m standing in front of a display refrigerator at a bodega in South Los Angeles. It isn’t the safest of neighborhoods, but I don’t feel threatened or intimidated at all. I’m armed with personal security, complements of one A.D. Jacobs. An A.D. who would blow a gasket if he knew of my whereabouts, no less. John, my assigned security—God, I can’t believe I’m using this term—will likely include this in his report to Azmir, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
I just left Karmen’s, one of the women in my Bible study group, in Athens. After hearing once again about her devoted dildo, I need a sugar fix. It could also be for the fact I haven’t eaten since breakfast, working tirelessly on my monthly reports. Before coming in, John admonished me about taking too long in here considering we have an unattended luxury car outside. I mollified his heeding by explaining I’m aware of the neighborhood we’re in and promise I’d be two minutes.
Right now, I’m dealing with a far more pressing issue: deciding between a Snickers bar and Ben & Jerry’s pistachio ice cream. Which is the lesser evil? As I pull open the refrigerator door, I hear sensual giggling from a distance. The distance, though is close enough to distract my decision making process.
I glance up and toward the direction of the shrilling sounds. I swear, I’m not being nosy; it’s just that the sound is that distasteful. It doesn’t take long for me to find the culprit. The store is relatively small, larger than a Mom and Pops convenience store, but certainly nothing you’re able to get lost in. What isn’t expected is recognizing a pair of eyes from the rumpus couple, engaged in a tasteless public display of foreplay.
“Brian?” I practically whisper in disbelief, totally stupefied. The last thing I’m expecting is running into Brian Thompson here in Athens.