At all.
I’ve known Dick a long time. Back when I was in the academy, he was still an instructor, trying to claw his way into a much more appreciated ranking on the force. The guy’s had an ulterior motive in his back pocket since the day we met.
The only question is, what’s the motive here?
Like he said himself, doesn’t matter.
He sucked ass back in the day, and he sucks ass now.
“I could even get you a spot on the same team as your brother.” He eyes me carefully. “If that’s what you want.”
Not gonna pussy foot around here. Workin’ with Nick, although not the highest of my priorities these days, would obviously have its benefits. Like seeing what the hell he’s up to around here. This would also give me access to answers I can’t easily get to on the outside.
But the truth of the matter here is, Walker’s playing me.
I don’t know this because he’s willing to bend a rule or two to get me in the same precinct as Nick, mind you. I know this because Dick Walker doesn’t do favors without expecting something in return.
So I call him out.
“What’s the catch?”
“Catch?” He laughs. “I simply want the best of the best on board here in Redemption.” He waits a few seconds and adds, “Of course, your connections in the area would be an asset as well.”
My connections.
I think through some of them. The only one I can really pinpoint off the top of my head as being worthwhile for Walker would be Tricky Ricky.
Dick pulls out a pack of Marlboro Lights.
Now, let’s ignore the fact that he isn’t even supposed to be fucking lighting up inside the building, for a moment, shall we?
But seriously. Lights? Really?
Pussy.
He catches me eying the pack like a kid in a candy store and extends it out to me.
“Smoke?”
I shake my head at him. “Used to, but no thanks.”
He lights his up. “Why’d you quit?”
“Because it’s a disgusting fucking habit, and I want to live a long full life with healthy lungs that can breathe on their own.”
My liver, on the other hand, that’s another story, but those can be replaced.
“Really.” He blows the smoke out slow and meaningful. I can almost taste the nicotine on my lips.
He seems almost impressed for a second or two until I spell some shit out for him, that is.
“No, Dick. I quit because nothing and no one controls me but me.”
And by the way, fuck you.
His eyes become lines.
I can damn near feel his hatred toward me, which is another reason none of this makes a lick of sense.
“Everyone’s controlled by something, Stiles,” he says.
Now we’re talking in code. Awesome.
Not that I don’t get it. What he’s saying.
“Not me,” I inform him, under no uncertain terms.
“Aren’t you?” The way the corner of his mouth lifts slightly tells me he knows something I don’t know.
Yet.
“No.”
We hold ourselves a small stare-off in the confines of Walker's office. For a minute, I toy with the idea that he might be right. Between Green getting super-secret texts behind my back and the way he has the ability to get me to even consider taking a position within the force, how could he not be?
I know one thing, though. His intentions are not honorable.
Still, I need to keep whatever upper hand I think I might have at the moment. So I play along.
“I’ll think about it.”
His smile widens. Clearly, he took the bait. I’ve given him hope.
“Good, good. We’ll touch base when you’ve had some time. Tomorrow perhaps.”
“Perhaps,” I tell him even though I hate that fucking word. Unable to stand his smug face any longer, I leave to begin phase one of finding the fuck out what Green is up to.
X X X
Anyone with a decent job would head home right now, bask in the limelight, fantasize over the amount of attention they might obtain on the force and in Walker’s back pocket with some potentially illegal shit going down behind the scenes.
Me?
I’d rather sit in my fucking car, of which its heat has decided to stop working, and follow a hunch I have about a certain dick of a police captain.
One hour in, I’m still pretty optimistic about my instincts.
Another thirty minutes after that, I start having my first doubts.
Now, two point two hours later, I’m fighting with the gear shift so I can go the fuck home and contemplate the severity of my idiocy for sitting out here in the first fucking place.
That’s when it happens.
“Hallelujah, motherfuckers!” The heater starts up again.
And Richard Walker finally steps out of his building.
He stands in the middle of the sidewalk for a few minutes, checking his cell phone. When he starts walking, I follow along slowly down the road. When he goes where I can’t, the parking garage, I wait some more.
His burgundy Mercedes pulls out onto the roadway, and my mouth pulls into a triumphant grin.