Fortunate Son Read online

  The green leaves on the tree outside the precinct drooped and lay still in the lack of breeze while heat bounced off the pavement to bake the bark. I stopped in the shade of the tree to calm myself before stepping into the precinct. Going in angry was good. It’d keep me motivated to fight for Katie’s rights and to get her justice. But go in too angry and I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slow.

  Baron Grahm.

  I wondered if he’d ever even been charged or investigated. Did they even try to make charges stick? Maybe when you’re a senator’s son and you rape some werewolf girl who was at a prestigious college on scholarship, the locals expect it to be dismissed as one of those ‘boys will be boys’ things that happens. I could imagine all that had been said about the poor girl. She had it coming. That was what she got for being drunk. If she’d been sober, it never would’ve happened. If her friend hadn’t left her. If she hadn’t been wearing whatever she’d been wearing.

  How many times had people told Katie it was her fault and not Baron’s?

  I wondered, if it’d been the other way around and Baron had been Katie’s victim, would everyone would feel the same way?

  I let out another breath. Calm down. You have to approach this logically. There has to be evidence. Evidence doesn’t lie. Evidence can’t be negotiated with or bribed. Evidence will put Baron away for his crime.

  With that thought in mind, I squared my shoulders, lifted my head high and marched into the precinct.

  Inside, the air was even more oppressive. A few fans worked to circulate the non-existent air. There weren’t enough windows in the place to have airflow. People lined the seating area, all seated in leather, uncomfortable seats. Sweat streaked down dark faces. Diapers, papers, and even a billfold were transformed into fans as the bored and the worried, the cops and the criminals alike, shared the common goal of weathering the heat wave.

  I passed them all by in favor of going to the stairs, which I climbed two at a time. At the top, I made a right turn and went down a narrow hallway with a low-hanging ceiling. Toward the end of the hall, I found the entrance to the BSI division of the Cleveland Metropolitan Police. There were six of us, each specializing in different areas. Werewolves weren’t my area, which technically meant I should’ve turned the case over to my co-worker, Tori Steele, but she was on vacation for the week, which meant it was all mine. The original case, though, would have been one of hers.

  My desk sat at the back of a room that was wider than it was long with six identical desks. Mine was the only one that was overflowing with papers of all colors. Various higher-ups in the department stopped by my workspace on a regular basis with colorful sticky papers that they somehow thought would motivate me. Usually, they contained helpful advice like, “Stop using magick to lift heavy objects in front of the mundy cops. It freaks them out” or “Reminder: all exorcisms must be documented on form OH-227-B within 24 hours.” Today, the helpful note was in neon pink and said, “Call the school about your son.”

  Dammit, why hadn’t the school called my cell? I pulled the phone out of my pocket to check. It flashed that I had several missed messages. I must’ve been out of service when they called. The clock on my desk flashed eleven a.m. Still time to deal with whatever trouble my son, Hunter, had gotten into and hit the files.

  I pulled out my swivel chair and plopped down after hitting the speed dial for the school. “Hey, this is Judah Black. Hunter’s mom. Is Hunter sick?”

  A girl can hope, right?

  The voice on the other end huffed, “No. Let me connect you to Principal Hayes.”

  The line sounded dead a minute before another voice, the deep, male voice of Principal Hayes, answered. “This is Principal Hayes.”

  “Judah Black. Is Hunter okay?”

  The principal sighed. “Mrs. Black, Hunter was in a fistfight this morning in the breakfast line.”

  It wasn’t the first time Hunter had gotten into trouble since we moved there. That I was a federal agent seemed to make him a target. Being the new kid didn’t help. He was picked on relentlessly.

  I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “What was the fight over?”

  The principal ignored my question. “There weren’t any serious injuries to your son, but the other boy involved has a serious black eye. Now, if this were the first time, and if the other boy wasn’t so hurt—”

  “Is this that Chad Wizzy kid?”

  The other end was silent for a moment as he decided whether or not he could legally answer me.

  I continued. “’Cause that Chad kid is a menace. I know his mom is on the school board and the PTO and the Athletic Boosters, but that’s no reason to let his bullying slide.”

  “The Wizanowskis are respected members of the community,” said the principal, taking on a defensive tone. “And Chad is a fine boy and a star athlete.”

  “I got news for you, pal. Hunter’s a fine boy, too. And if he were a football player, or a basketball player, I bet Chad Wizzy wouldn’t pick on him so much. But he does and you and those teachers have turned a blind eye to it for four months now. I’m sick of hearing about his relentless tormenting of my son in front of other students and your teachers. It’s about time—”

  “Mrs. Black, are you going to come and pick up your son or should I inform Child Services and get them involved?”

  I popped forward in my chair, practically springing to my feet. “I’ll be picking my son up. He shouldn’t have to be subjected to six hours of torture five days a week at your prestigious public institution.” I added some snooty, nasal accent to the end of my speech and shouted, “Good day, sir!” before hanging up.

  I sat at my desk rubbing my temples for a moment before I looked up and realized everyone around me was staring at me. It probably wasn’t good to snap at them, so I decided to gather my things and go pick up my son. But first, I had to stop by and let my captain know what was going on.

  Captain Jeff Gleaves’ office was at the far end of the floor behind a glass door decorated with the logo for the Cleveland police. The man himself was a graying man of forty-seven. He sat hunched over his desk, writing on a paper. I tapped on the glass to get his attention. The captain glanced up and motioned me in.

  “Hey, Cap,” I said, pulling open the door and poking my head. “School called. I need to go pick up my son. I’ll drop him off at the sitters and be back if—”

  “Sit down, Black.” He pointed to the chair across from his desk with the cap of his pen.

  I cringed. This wasn’t going to be good.

  With my head low, I slinked into the office and slid into the chair while he finished up whatever it was he was busy signing. He didn’t look up as he spoke to me. “I heard you were asking questions about Senator Grahm’s son.”

  “The suicide at Case Western is connected to an alleged rape—”

  “The suicide at Case Western is just that, a suicide. Coroner just faxed over paperwork confirming it based on evidence at the scene.”

  I watched him pick up the paper he’d been writing on and move it to another pile before starting on the next. “What about the rape?”

  “What rape? With no complaining witness—”

  “No complaining witness?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and my disbelief reflected in my high tone. “Katie North filed a complaint and submitted evidence the night she was assaulted. Just because she’s dead doesn’t mean the bastard that assaulted her shouldn’t do time.”

  Cap licked his fingers and shifted another paper to another pile. “Be that as it may, you’re not even on that case.”

  “Be honest with me, Captain. Is anyone even on that case?”

  His pen stopped moving and, for the first time since I’d sat down, his eyes traveled up to look me in the face. He put the pen down gently and folded his hands over the papers he’d been working on. “I appreciate your dedication to the job, and to the supernatural people of Cleveland, Agent Black, but this station only
works because it adheres to strict guidelines. Law and order. How cases get handed out and to whom isn’t your concern unless they’re your cases.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing,” the captain snapped and then sighed. When he continued, it was with a gentler tone. “I know you came here to make a difference. Everyone starts out that way, but for every killer or drug dealer we take off the street, two more spring up. Fighting crime in Cleveland is like dealing with a hydra, Black. We have to choose our battles, and going after Baron Grahm is a losing battle, no matter how much evidence there is. Even if there was enough evidence for us to get an incitement and pass it on to the D.A., you know as well as I do that he’d never see a day in jail. He’s got access to the best lawyers and his dad funds half this department.”

  “So because his old man is made of cash, you look the other way? What about when he does it to some other girl? How many girls does Baron Grahm have to rape before you decide to do your job?”

  The captain’s eyes lit up with rage. “I am doing my job.”

  I stood up abruptly. “Thanks for the chat, Captain, but I’ve got to go get my son.”

  He called after me when I jerked open the door. I turned back to find his gaze as hard as steel.

  “Leave it alone, Black. You open this can of worms, I can’t protect you.”

  “I’d rather you protect and serve the people of Cleveland than me any day,” I said and slammed the door shut behind me.

  I SHOULD HAVE GONE straight to pick up Hunter, but I was worried the captain or some other dirty cop would destroy what I’d come back to the precinct to get. My first stop had to be evidence.

  Evidence was a whole wing of the station, secured by a locked cage. A lady sat at the desk in front of that cage, and if an officer wanted to look at evidence from a past case, they had to sign it out and she’d go retrieve the box for you. When she turned in the signature page at the end of the day with my name and the North case file number on it, the captain was going to have my ass. I didn’t care. This case felt personal on a level I couldn’t explain.

  Maybe it was because my very first case as an agent had been a suicide. Talking a girl down from her place on the bridge with her father’s gun hadn’t ended well for the girl, and I’d never let that go. It always felt like I could have done something, said the right thing to help her. Katie was the same. If someone had only listened, she’d still be alive.

  If I’d only listened to Alex, he’d still be alive too.

  I pushed thoughts of my dead husband out of my mind and forced myself to smile at the pudgy, fair-skinned and freckled woman behind the desk. “Afternoon,” I said in the form of a greeting.

  She looked up from her newspaper. “What do you need?”

  “Looking for a box under North, Katie.”

  “Do you know the lead officer?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I don’t.”

  The officer grumbled and slowly got out of her chair. She paused to crack her back before shuffling off down rows and rows of brown boxes.

  I waited for what felt like forever, glancing up and down the hall outside to keep an eye out for Dan or the captain. The last thing I wanted was for them to walk in and stop me before I got the box.

  My phone rang again and I answered it. The principal’s secretary was calling to remind me to come and pick up Hunter. I let them know I was just now slipping away from work and that I’d be there shortly before hanging up just as the officer came back, a brown box in hand.

  I grabbed the pen and scribbled my name, badge number and the ID number from the box after she slid it to me and then thanked her for her help. The officer didn’t acknowledge me, but rather slid back onto her stool and went back to reading her paper.

  Evidence boxes weren’t ever supposed to leave the precinct, but if I was going to break some rules, I figured I might as well go all the way. The captain had already said they had no intention of pursuing Baron Grahm inside their system. Lucky for me, I was a federal agent, and that gave me more wiggle room than most to do something about it. The Cleveland cops might not be interested in arresting Baron, but maybe I could score one for BSI.

  I carried the box to my car, tossed it in the back, and drove the few blocks from the precinct to Hunter’s school.

  When I walked into the office, he was sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair, bookbag on, arms crossed, staring at the floor. I didn’t say anything as I signed him out, and he didn’t say anything to me as we walked out the front door for the car. Neither of us spoke until I’d eased us back into traffic.

  “I’m not mad at you, kiddo,” I said, mostly because I was worried his silence meant he thought I was. “That Chad kid had it coming from what I hear. He shouldn’t be able to get away with something just because he’s a star athlete.”

  Hunter crossed his arms and shrugged. “It’s fine.”

  “It isn’t fine. Don’t you settle for it.”

  “That’s just how the world works. Doesn’t matter who’s wrong or right. It matters who you know.” Hunter settled into his seat, staring out the window.

  I set my jaw and tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “That’s not true. Those people who think they’re so important, the ones who think they’re untouchable? You know what?”

  He rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to say karma will get them...”

  “They don’t have to wait for karma. I’ll get them.”

  I DECIDED NOT TO GO back into the office and called to let them know. The captain wasn’t happy, but I don’t think he was upset over it either. Staying home meant he didn’t have to deal with me. It didn’t mean I didn’t have to work.

  While Hunter was upstairs, playing video games, I settled in on the sofa with the box of evidence I’d taken from the station. There wasn’t much inside other than some files. The original police report corroborated what Sissy had told me. Six months ago, Katie North and her roommate went to a party where Katie was assaulted behind a dumpster. Two witnesses, foreign exchange students, interrupted Baron who insisted the contact was consensual.

  Witnesses, I thought, and jotted their names down in a notebook. They sounded African, but I couldn’t be sure just by the names alone. The college would have their current whereabouts. With witnesses, though, and the rape kit they’d collected from Katie, this should have been an ironclad case. Why hadn’t the police pursued it?

  According to the paperwork, an Officer Doran had put in significant legwork interviewing the witnesses, Katie, Katie’s parents and Baron Grahm himself. He’d collected most of the evidence in that box up until he transferred out of the department to a post in Columbus.

  I didn’t have Doran’s contact, but I could call the Columbus police and see if he’d talk to me. Maybe he had some ideas on how to proceed.

  I grabbed my cell and called one of the stations in Columbus after looking up the number. They informed me that Officer Doran wasn’t in, but the cop on duty was more than happy to accommodate a fed once he verified my badge number. He gave me Doran’s cell.

  Officer Doran picked up on the fourth ring, his voice a deep baritone that held the timbre of age. “Doran?”

  “Officer Doran, this is Special Agent Judah Black with BSI.”

  There was a short pause. “Afternoon, Agent Black. How can I help?”

  “When you were in Cleveland, you worked on the Katie North case, is that right?”

  This pause was even longer. The phone creaked and there was a muffled bang, the sound of a door closing. “How’d the feds inherit that mess? You guys finally looking into all the dirty cops in that department? No, not BSI. Did something happen to Katie?” Another, short pause while I tried to think of how to break the news to him. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

  “Katie North shot herself with a silver bullet last night.”

  “Jesus. God damn. I knew something like this would happen.” He sighed.

  “It looks like you gave her case due diligence. Lots of evide
nce. Can you tell me why you didn’t bring Baron in?”

  “Because he’s Baron Grahm? Because I was ordered not to? Pick a reason, Black. There’s a reason I’m not in Cleveland anymore, and it ain’t because I chose to leave.”

  “I don’t care if he is the senator’s son. People shouldn’t get away with something just because they’re rich and powerful. That’s not—”

  “Not how the system is supposed to work?” Doran grunted and chuckled. “The system is broken. The nation is broken. We are broken. Isn’t a department out there that isn’t rife with fraud, nepotism, and general corruption. Let me ask you something, Agent Black. When you show people on the street your badge, how many shrink away? How many of them look at you all wide-eyed, terrified you’re going to pull that gun and blow them away for doing nothing other than existing?”

  I swallowed, knowing exactly the look he was talking about.

  “People are scared of us for a reason. We kill people. We hurt people, destroy families. The law isn’t there to serve the people anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time. Good cops want to make a difference. Smart cops quit and find another profession before they get dirty or get killed. If you’re smart, you’ll do the same.”

  “Officer Doran, I—”

  My cell phone service interrupted my words, telling me the call had been disconnected. I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the flashing timer on the screen. Was he right? He couldn’t be. There were still good cops out there, doing the right thing. They weren’t all like he was saying. Some of the ones who turned their backs on doing the right thing, all they needed was a push back in the right direction. If one person would just stand up and do the right thing, maybe more of my co-workers would do the same.

  And maybe Doran was right and it’d get me killed.

  “Mom?”

  I looked up to see Hunter standing at the end of the sofa, his eyes dark and fixed on the floor. “What is it, sweetie?”