The debrief

Back at the station, and with the coffee slowly revitalizing him, Stone scribbled out his report for Sergeant Baily. The two officers who had abandoned him were sitting at the opposite end of the canteen, every now and again sending furtive glances in his direction. Stone had had enough, his curiosity getting the better of him. He stood up, and then strode over to where they were sat, and leaned over.

"Getting your stories straight? Mind if I take a look?"

The weasel-faced officer in front of him turned over his report. The skinny runt looked as though he needed to grow into his uniform. He puffed out his chest.

"Go and fuck yourself."

"Yeah, and just explain to me how you do that? I'm guessing you're the expert there," Stone said, as he walked behind the other officer and leaned over his shoulder.

"You heard him," he said, and turned over his report.

"If you've finished, at least lend me your pen. Mine's run out of ink."

"I think I can manage that," Weasel said, and handed him his ballpoint.

Stone took the pen by the tip, and then ambled back to his table. He took a seat and watched the both of them rise from their chairs, then they walked out of the canteen. Reaching into his pocket, he took out an evidence zip-lock bag, dropped the pen inside, and then sealed the bag.

Stone drained the last of his coffee when Weasel popped his head around the canteen door.

"The sergeant says he's ready for you."

It was a case of déjà vu, as not for the first time, he expected a roasting. Worse, he imagined he'd be suspended for sure, his career in the force all but terminated. He wondered if it had been worth chasing his dick when he'd thought about Candice and decided to knock on her door. Base instinct aside, he thought that was being disingenuous to himself. It wasn't his fault he found her extremely attractive. He convinced himself that he'd been there strictly on police business. The door opened disrupting his thoughts, and the sergeant beckoned him inside. Sitting down, Stone slid his report over to the sergeant. He decided to try and throw him off his stride and to feign interest, in a bid to diffuse the situation.

"How many did they arrest in operation gangbang?"

"None. Bastards must have been tipped off. No doubt there'll be a massive investigation. As if I haven't got enough on my plate, but at least we've dispersed the rioters. They're clearing up the last pockets around Compton as we speak." He slapped Stone's report on the desk. "This is short and sweet. You've missed something out. Try walking me through your footsteps."

Stone felt his cheeks flame.

"Nothing to add."

"Nothing to add! Don't take me for a jerk. Spit it out. Whose was that door you knocked on?"

Placing his elbow on the sergeant's desk, he rubbed his forehead. His mind raced over events. If this was going the way he thought it was, then either Weasel or his partner had followed him. Whichever, maybe one was a lookout for the other while they torched his vehicle.

"I knocked on a few doors with lights on actually, but no one answered to let me use their john."

Sergeant Baily rolled his eyes.

"What do you expect at that time of night around there? Hell, you're lucky if they'd open their doors in daylight, uniform or not," the sergeant said.

Stone realized just how lame his excuse was.

"So, who saw me knocking doors?"

"Officer Coombs."

"Is he the chubby one or the thin one?"

"He's the smaller of the two if that's what you mean."

That told him all he needed to know. It was the weasel one of the two that had a smell of gasoline about him. It was his pen he had in the evidence bag.

"So, is that it? Can I go now?"

"You're lucky. Seems you have friends in high places. In future, carry a bottle in your car. Yeah, you can go. Go home and take the rest of the shift off. Besides, I don't have a backup vehicle just now."

He didn't need telling twice, and rising from his chair, he hurried out through the office door. Sergeant Baily called him back.

"Listen, you might want to think about taking a drink at Lou's bar. He's an ex-traffic cop. Some of the guys go there. Maybe it'll help you to fit in here better.

Stone nodded, gave him a thumbs-up, then headed to the station parking lot. From what Baily had said, it sounded as though the sergeant had his ear to the ground and knew that he was having difficulty mixing in with his fellow officers. The attendant greeted him at the security booth. He flashed his badge. Stone thought back to Sergeant Baily saying he had friends in high places. He couldn't think of any friends, only acquaintances in high places. He worried that his cover could be compromised before his investigation had even got off the ground.

"Where's the key for car fifty-four? They gave me a ride back to the station. I think I left my cellphone on the back seat."

The attendant ran his fingers over the keys on the board, then handed him the key. Stone pressed the key fob for the alarm, located the car from the sound, and hurried over. With the door, open, he slid onto the front seat, and then placed the key in the ignition. He turned on the dash cam and scrolled back to the moment when he'd turned the corner. Unfortunately, with the angle of Coombs' car, it didn't cover his own vehicle. Sure enough, Coombs had followed him, peered around the corner, and then he dashed back in the direction of his car out of camera shot. They sped off along the street. Stone saw a brief glow in their cab. It could have been a vehicle's headlights behind them. More likely, he thought it would be his car exploding into flames. There was no banter from either of them mentioning anyone throwing stones. They weren't pursuing anyone from what he could see. He cursed that he didn't have a pen drive to download the footage.

Stone near jumped out of his skin as someone rapped on the roof. He turned off the ignition.

"Find it?" the attendant asked.

"Yeah," said Stone, and once out of the car, tapped his pocket holding his cellphone, then he returned the key. "Listen, I wouldn't let it go out in the morning. I could smell gas on the way back to the station. Prob'ly has a fuel leak."

"I'll get the mechanics to take a look tomorrow."

"What time do they arrive?"

"Eight."

Stone tipped him a salute, then walked out of the lot and called a cab. His mind was racing in all directions, not knowing who he could trust with what he'd found. Though not conclusive, if events had transpired as he imagined, it wasn't like this was a prank or a hazing gone wrong. This would be serious business and they would need a serious motive. The cab pulled up and he clambered in. He avoided small talk with the driver, engrossed in thought. They obviously wanted him out of the station. Who they were, he could guess. But hanging out Coombs and his sidekick to dry probably wouldn't root out who was behind giving the orders. He kept coming back to the idea that it was because he was an ex-detective. Someone they couldn't trust. But then just what the hell was there to trust. At the end of the day, it was just a job.

Back in his apartment, he noticed the glow of his message machine and hit play.

"Candice here returning your calls. Sorry if I was rude earlier. Thanks for returning the purse, but please—don't visit my home again."

He pressed play again, listened to the message, then pressed it again, and again. It was a double-edged sentiment, and from the tone, he couldn't work out if she was breaking the ice or not. Stone smiled. He took it as an invitation to phone her, as long as he didn't turn up on the doorstep in uniform.

Stone walked into his bedroom and picked up his alarm clock. It was just gone 3:40 am. He set the alarm for 7, hopefully to give him time to arrive at the station parking lot the same time as the mechanics. Not bothering to undress, he dropped onto his mattress and cuddled the pillow, his thoughts turning to a vision of Candice and wondering if he'd get to meet her when he was out of uniform.