The Sacramento River curved around, and the road could be dangerous especially in bad weather. Today was warm and windless, and she wasn’t worried about the road conditions, but she didn’t want to be seen slowing down as she passed the building.
1160 River Road was a converted warehouse, with offices built on the second floor, the ground floor appeared to be the main business, and the basement had high windows. Could the basement be accessed from the river? She hadn’t thought about that the last few times she’d been here. She’d never been inside. The sign on the front said, “Salvadore’s Boat Repair and Maintenance.” Several small boats were docked on the river, but she couldn’t see much from the road.
She drove a mile down, then turned around and headed back. She slowed enough to take a picture of the license plate of the truck that was parked in the turnout that served as a small parking lot.
She nearly dropped her phone when she recognized the truck. It was a common make and model in popular black, but the sticker on the rear driver’s side—dead giveaway. A small badge. The widows and orphans fund sticker.
Jim.
What the hell was he doing here?
She drove past the business again, but pulled over to the shoulder after she rounded the bend, about a half mile away, so no one from the boat repair shop—or whatever it was—could see her. She needed to think. She stared at the river, trying to make sense of everything that had happened over the last two years.
Jim had been a cop for nearly twenty years, a detective for the last ten. She’d never thought he was corrupt—she’d slept with him, dammit! She’d once cared about him. Maybe he was checking out a lead. Alex had seen the shooter here with Tommy Cordell. Could Jim have another witness who put the shooter here? Why his personal vehicle and not his assigned police sedan?
Yet ... she’d just talked to Selena about her concerns that Jim had been pumping her for information while they lived together. That he’d come over last night to see what she would say ... or didn’t say.
The detective sedans had GPS, just like squad cars. They were tracked and could be audited at any time. Dispatch could pull up a cop’s location at any time. That’s why Jim had his personal truck.
Steve had said Jim was at the crime lab ... was Steve lying or had Jim lied to Steve? Why?
Go back to the beginning.
The beginning was over two years ago, in December, when she’d been transferred to the North Command. The City of Sacramento had three regional divisions, North, Central, South. Each regional division covered two smaller sections, split geographically for patrol purposes, but detectives covered the whole territory. She’d been in the Central Command. So had Jim, but they hadn’t been dating at that time. Central was the largest command and she’d known Jim, but they hadn’t really hung in the same circles.
She’d been transferred to North Command because of some bullshit new directive for gender equality. She was all for gender equality—she was just as competent as any of her male colleagues—but practically what happened was the female-heavy Central command had shifted female detectives and officers north and south because there were fewer females in the two smaller divisions. Still, she’d been promoted to Detective II, giving her a small pay increase. One more promotion and she could have taken her Sergeant’s exam.
So she sucked it up and moved. She hadn’t known Tommy Cordell before she was partnered with him. He was arrogant, but smart; crass, but funny. He’d gone through a bitter divorce the year before and had a twelve year old daughter who he adored. When they were on duty, sometimes they would swing by his daughter’s soccer games to watch for a few minutes. Over the months, there was nothing in his relationship with his daughter that made Alex think he was a borderline pervert. In fact, it was that fatherly affection that had Alex liking Tommy, and his daughter adored him as well. Reminding Alex that even criminals weren’t all bad.
It was at the SPD holiday party three weeks after her transfer that she and Jim hooked up. It was one of those things ... they’d been drinking, they’d been flirting, and they ended up at her apartment in bed. It would have been completely awkward if she had to work with him—she rarely dated cops and the few times she did, they weren’t from Sac PD—but she and Jim were in different command centers. It made it less awkward in the morning if things didn’t work out.
Except, Jim had been very charming the next morning.
“Alex Morgan,” Jim said. “Wow. I’ve had the hots for you for years.”
She gave him the evil eye. “We already had sex. You don’t have to sweet talk me.”
“I’m serious. I’ve wanted to ask you out forever but I heard you don’t date cops.”
“Not cops I work with.”
“You just transferred, right?”
“So?”
“So we don’t work together.”
“Jim—I like you, and we had fun last night, but—”
“But what?” He looked at her with such a boyish expression, as if he was afraid she was going to say she didn’t like him.