There were quite a few men in the department who wanted to be promoted to detective. But the chief hired me. Begged me to come out of retirement, actually. Filled my head with promises and all that crap about public service.
And I believed him.
Because, well. I believe in public service. I get most of my satisfaction in life out of helping people these days.
I take one more look at the group of overwhelmed and sad parents before I make my escape, feeling like I’m letting them down. So it sucks that I’m on the chief’s leash and I’ve been ordered to sort out a suicide. There’s been a rash of them, I hear. People desperate over the bad economy. Crime is up a hundred and twenty percent from five years ago. People are ready for a change. And those juveniles are among them, I guess. But they’re just kids. They should be protected and if they go missing, someone should notice. It pisses me off that the CCPD can just ignore them like that.
But you need this job, Molls, I remind myself. You need it because:
You haven’t had a job since Will died.
You got depressed and… yeah.
You can’t hide from the world forever.
People need to pay their dues and this is how you will pay yours.
Maybe there’s another detective in our department who’s familiar with these kids? I wouldn’t know. I’m too new. So maybe the chief is doing the best job he can with the people he’s got. And I just happen to be new, with no cases, since my last partner closed them all out. Maybe the chief wants me to contain the backlash the city’s biggest corporation might encounter if the public finds out they are a hotbed for suicides?
I’m gonna go with that. Chief O’Neil knows what he’s doing and I need to focus on the task I was given.
Chapter Seven - Molly
Blue Corp is in a very modern thirtysomething-story building on the far west side of Cathedral City, right up next to the foothills. It’s not called a headquarters, it’s called a campus, that’s how many acres this place needs to house all the employees working here.
There are a few entrance gates since it’s so sprawling, but the main one, the one where visitors enter, is on the south side of the campus and it’s heavily manned with armed guards.
I stop at the guard house and roll my window down to talk to a very hard-looking man dressed in a black uniform with the Blue Corp logo on it.
“State your business,” he demands.
I flash him my badge. “Detective Molly Masters. I have an appointment to talk with Mr. Montgomery.”
The guard looks me up and down, then studies my badge for a moment. “Hold it steady,” he says as he waves a piece of tech blazing a blue light over it. “Let me scan the image in and I’ll be right back after your identity is authenticated.”
I sigh as he walks away, then roll my window up to keep the light drizzle from blowing in.
Thoughts of the weekend run through my head. I threw a party. Which is very unlike me. Especially since the only people I know are from the department. Not to mention I got drunk enough to pass out and there might’ve been a man involved since I woke up in lingerie.
Lingerie you don’t own, Molly, my inner voice reminds me.
Well, I own it now. Did I meet someone fabulous who likes to spend money on stupid things like pretty underwear that’s supposed to be ripped off—or ripped apart, I snicker—during sex? I wonder what he looks like. I wonder if I had sex with him. I wonder if I liked it.
I consider my love life for a moment and what bad luck that I might’ve had sex for the first time in over a year and I drank too much to remember the best parts. I sure hope we used protection.
Jesus.
The full consequences of what I did over the weekend come crashing down on me. I’m gonna need to go to the doctor if I don’t start remembering who my date was.
The guard appears again, so I roll the window down and let the drizzle accost me as it blows in my face.
“You’re set, Miss Masters. Mr. Montgomery’s assistant will meet you in the lobby and take you to his office.”
He walks off before I can finish saying, “Thanks!”
Whatever. I buzz the control for the window and pull away as the gate lifts up to allow me entrance to the campus. The road is long, deserted, and flanked on either side with towering Ponderosa pines. After a mile or so, I finally come to the main building parking lot. There’s a number at the head of each space, so I find one near the entrance marked, Visitors, and park my unmarked police car.
I look in the mirror, wish I had put on more concealer under my eyes this morning, then thank my lucky stars that I wore my best professional suit. I got it for Will’s funeral.
God, I’m so sad. I have a moment where I feel nothing but defeat and surrender. The depression I suffered after Will died was so debilitating, I had to leave the military with a medical discharge. It was honorable, so there’s that. But I loved the military. I loved the order and the way things needed to be done just so. I don’t think I have OCD, like as a diagnosis. But orderly things make me feel good. They make me feel in control.