I’m all about getting to the point.
He contemplates saying something else, but doesn’t. So, apparently he trusts me enough to beg me to set him free, but not enough to expand on his claims of innocence. Gotta love the younger generation. Never wanting to take responsibility for their bullshit.
“Who escapes a murder scene then sticks around to drag race, anyway?” That’s been bugging me all night.
“I didn’t kill anyone!” He’s defiant now. Ticked.
“But you somehow know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about?” Obviously, since he knows what he’s going to jail for.
“Unfortunately.” He’s leaving something out, and it annoys the shit out of me. Like a puzzle I need to finish, only I can’t because he threw the last piece out the window, and the timer’s about to go off. It’s not in my job description to get the story, though. All I'm supposed to do is take him in. Something I have to keep reminding myself of tonight, for some reason.
“Well, I say no worries then.” I try to make light of the situation as I press on the gas pedal again. “You get a defense lawyer assigned to your case. They prove you weren’t the killer. Bam. Done.”
“Right.” He laughs out a sarcastic huff of air and watches the shrubbery go by outside. He’s got about as much confidence in the justice system as I do, it seems.
“Tell ya what, if I ever become a life coach, I’ll give you a call. We’ll talk shop, and I’ll tell you how to keep your nose clean as opposed to getting involved with the wrong kind of people.” It’s a half-hearted promise. Redemption doesn’t have a whole hell of a lot of the right kind of people.
When I’m almost up to the home of Redemption's Police Department, I take my foot off the gas and hesitate for a second.
Not gonna lie, part of me wonders if this kid is being truthful or if he’s just good at pulling the wool over people’s eyes. Then again, he wouldn’t be the first person with good intentions to get sucked into a world so fucked up you can’t quit.
I drift into the lot and find a spot to park. I cut the engine and, despite the fact that I have zero investments in this kid other than the money I'm about to make off turning him over, I stretch around to face my backseat compadre. “You seem like a nice kid, Don. For the record, I don’t see you as the physically harmful type.”
“I’m not.” He's hopeful when he says it. Like maybe I’m about to let him go but then he spots someone off in the distance and his voice becomes tired. “Not anymore.”
Lo and behold, three of Redemption’s finest are walking out to greet us. Which is odd. So I step out of the car and help Donnie out of the back seat. Before either one of us can say anything else, the welcoming committee is upon us.
“Hey, Stiles. Thanks for bringing this one in.” Hank Riley waves as they approach us. He’s one of those cops with too much ego and not enough common sense. And he’s smiling a tad too wide for my taste this evening. Morning. Either or. “We’ll take him from here.”
When he reaches for the kid, I stop him with a hand to his chest. It’s kinda like pushing against a huge, police-uniformed Peep. The guy is far too overweight, which makes him slow. Too slow for this job, if you ask me. Which is why he’s been glossed over for promotions for the past half a decade.
The guy thinks he’s got nothing new to learn. Hence, the ego.
His bushy brow pulls together, but I don’t hand anyone over until I’m paid. Rule number one.
“I’ll take him in, Hank. I have paperwork to sign anyway.”
And money to collect.
Rule number two. Don’t forget to sign the paperwork.
When the overweight long-timer blocks my path, a thin line forms across his lips. “Captain said no need, tonight.” He plants an envelope against my chest that I assume is full of cash. I check it, anyway.
Rule number three, always, always, always, count the money.
While I’m confirming my paycheck is all there, I can’t help but wonder why Captain on-my-ass-all-the-time wouldn’t want me to sign the paperwork. I always sign the paperwork. There hasn’t been one time that I’ve taken a case for the RPD when I haven’t signed the goddamn paperwork, for Christ’s sake.
Would it be nice to skip it and go home? Yes. I haven’t had a decent night's sleep in a long ass while. However, am I planning on throwing my rules out the window right now for a few extra winks?
I don’t fucking think so.
“Bullshit. I’m signing the paperwork, Riley.”