“We’ve lost contact with an undercover officer. At the risk of sounding cliché, they’ve gone rogue. Went in without permission.” He considered his hands a moment. “We’d like you to make contact with the officer, first and foremost to confirm they’re alive and well. We need them extracted from the situation unharmed.”
“Undercover.” Bowen felt a tingle at the back of his neck. “Investigating who?”
“You think I’d reveal a name without your signed agreement to cooperate?”
Bowen didn’t answer, the word “cooperate” hanging in the air like rank garbage.
“The officer is looking for evidence,”
the commissioner continued. “Frankly, it’s evidence I— we—need. This isn’t how I wanted to go about obtaining it, but they’re in now.”
“Evidence of what?”
“Corruption. Something you should be familiar with.” He formed a steeple with his fingers. “Which leads me to your secondary task. If the officer is indeed alive and well, allow them a small window of time to continue the mission.
If it proves fruitful and they uncover what we’re looking for, you bring that evidence to me before they have a chance to lose it or get killed.” He shook his head. “A damn rookie cop. No business whatsoever this deep in the game.”
“This idea gets more appealing by the minute.” Bowen sent a pointed glance toward the two flunkies. “Cops aren’t exactly my jam on a good day. Some inexperienced rookie with a death wish?
Why would I agree to that?”
“Because, Mr. Driscol, we can make life very difficult for you otherwise. We know
about
the
circumstances
surrounding your father’s incarceration.”
Newsom paused, as if to let that statement sink in. Bowen kept his features carefully schooled so he wouldn’t betray the shock pounding through his blood. He hadn’t seen this coming. Couldn’t have anticipated it in a million years. “We know you were aware of your father’s impending arrest and didn’t warn him because it would have put someone very close to you in danger. I think some of your associates would find it interesting that your sister was working as an unofficial informant, don’t you?”
Grinding out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe, Bowen felt sick.
With guilt, with dread. “You can’t prove that.”
Newsom smiled without humor. “We wouldn’t need to. The mere suggestion would put a target on your back. Her back.” The commissioner paused as that horrifying statement sank in. “Until now, we haven’t fully committed resources to ending your little run as king. That could very easily change. I suggest playing ball, Driscol. Unless you want to end up behind bars, just like dear old dad.”
The impact of that statement sent Bowen back in his chair, but he made it look casual at the last minute. Just like his dad. He couldn’t think about that right now. Not with these cops staring at him like a science project. He’d had Ruby’s back since childhood and vice versa. She never would have given the police leverage to use against him. It would be a cold day in hell before she told another living soul. Unless…
“Let me guess.” Bowen swiped a hand through his hair. “Troy Bennett is on the other side of that glass. He’s the one who so graciously offered my services.”
Newsom’s lips twitched. “You catch on quick. Ever think of joining the force?”
The officers behind him laughed as if the mere idea of him being anything but a criminal was hysterical. For once, he didn’t really blame them. Bowen turned toward the two-way glass and showed it his middle finger. Ruby’s boyfriend, the man who’d managed to put the pool hustler on the straight and narrow, had been a fucking thorn in his side since day one. He should have known when Ruby hooked up with a cop that this was inevitable.
Seconds later, the door opened and Troy strolled in holding a cup of coffee.
“Bowen.”
He didn’t return the greeting, jerking his chin at Newsom instead. “Before, my answer was no. Now, it’s hell no.”
Troy’s mouth tightened. “Can I have a moment with him, Commissioner?”
Newsom gave a brusque nod and left the room, followed by his two flunkies.
Bowen lit another cigarette and tossed his lighter onto the table. “You’re wasting your time.”
“Why haven’t you been returning your sister’s phone calls?”
The question threw him, before it circled back around and pissed him off.
“What the hell is this? A family therapy session?” He pushed to his feet and paced. “There was a time when you didn’t want me within a hundred yards of her.”
“She misses you.” Troy shrugged.
“When she’s unhappy, I’m unhappy.”
Bowen ignored the stabbing feeling in his chest. “Yeah? She has a funny way of missing me. Telling her cop boyfriend the one thing that could fuck me over.”
“It won’t fuck you over, because you’re going to help us.”
“Not. Happening.”
Troy walked to the metal table and flipped open the file. Bowen watched as he sifted through some papers and pulled out a picture. “I’m not supposed to show you this until you agree to help, but I’m going to anyway. You know why?”
“I couldn’t care less.”
“Because
I
trust
you,”
Troy
enunciated.
“Enough
to
convince
Newsom that you’re redeemable and could make a difference in this case.