Lee Goldberg - King City

“A couple of rookies who were pursuing a stolen car,” Wade said. “I went to their funerals.”

“It was a sad, tragic day,” Fallon said. “I’d hate to see it happen again.”

“So would I,” Wade said.

Mandy came up and set a slice of pie, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on it, in front of Fallon.

“Enjoy,” she said and turned away.

“Thanks, sweetie,” Fallon said and started to devour his pie.

Wade studied Fallon and sipped his coffee.

He was aware of Mandy and her father looking at them while trying to appear as if they weren’t. There were no other customers to serve and the tension created by the emptiness, and the presence of Duke Fallon, was palpable.

He was aware of Timo outside, leaning against Fallon’s car, staring hard at Wade. It was a wonder the window didn’t shatter from the intensity of the hatred.

It was a moment or two, and several mouthfuls of apple pie a la mode later, before Fallon spoke again.

“This can be a peaceful neighborhood if everybody follows the rules.”

“I agree,” Wade said.

“What you and I need to have is an understanding,” Fallon said.

“That would be good,” Wade said.

“So here’s what you need to understand. I make the laws here,” Fallon said, poking himself in the chest with his thumb. “Now that you’re a resident, you’re going to have to follow them just like everybody else.”

“What are your laws?”

“There’s only one,” Fallon said, leaning over the table toward Wade and looking him in the eye. “You stay out of my fucking way, or I will lay waste to your little station and everybody in it. I’d probably get a big gift basket from the chief for doing it too.”

Fallon leaned back, satisfied with himself. Wade held out a napkin to him.

“You need this. You got ice cream on yourself while you were terrifying me.”

Fallon looked down at the ice cream on his chest.

“Shit!” He snatched the napkin and dabbed madly at the stain, rubbing it in even deeper, matting the silk. “This is a twenty?five?hundred?dollar tracksuit.”

“Maybe you should wear a bib,” Wade said.

Fallon lifted his head and glared at Wade. “Maybe you should watch your fucking mouth.”

Wade took a sip of coffee and set down his mug. “Has it occurred to you, Duke, that ‘laying waste’ to me and the police substation might be exactly what the chief wants?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“It’s the excuse the chief needs to invade with five hundred officers, decimate your operation, and parade you and all of your crew in chains past the media.”

“There’d be a lot of cop funerals before that happened.”

“Yes, but what better way is there than a war on crime to rehabilitate the department’s image and push the corruption scandal out of the news? You might still get that big gift basket from him, but it will be delivered to you in your prison cell.”

Fallon tossed the wadded?up napkin on the table and pushed his plate away. “Either way, you lose.”

“You too,” Wade said.

“At least I won’t be dead.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Fallon mulled that possibility for a moment. “It sounds to me like we may have a common interest.”

“We might,” Wade said.

“So let’s compromise,” Fallon said.

“What do you have in mind?”

“You can walk old ladies across the street, write a few parking tickets, scold the kiddies who swipe candy from the mini?mart, and lock up the drunks who puke on the sidewalks. But you’ll stay out of everything else. If you run into something you can’t avoid, you come to me and I’ll handle it. That way, everybody’s happy.”

“I have an even simpler solution.”

“I’m all ears,” Fallon said.

“I’ll do my job the best that I can and hope that everything works out.”

“That isn’t a compromise,” Fallon said.

“No, it isn’t.” Wade slid out of the booth and stood up. “Thanks for the coffee. How was the pie?”

“It’s so good I fantasize about it while I’m fucking,” Fallon said.

“I’ll have to try it sometime,” Wade said.

“I’d make it soon, if I were you,” Fallon said.

Wade walked out of the Pancake Galaxy without acknowledging Timo’s presence and strode back to the station like he was taking a casual stroll along Riverfront Park. If they were going to gun him down now, he figured that hurrying across the street wouldn’t change anything.

Charlotte was waiting for him behind the counter in the station, her hands on her hips, giving him the same indignant look that she’d had on her face when she’d first walked in.

“You need some serious psychiatric help,” she said.

“How’s Billy?” Wade asked.

“He’s outside, cleaning the cars and grinning like a fucking idiot. He thought getting shot was awesome and he wants me to try it. He’s going to have an enormous bruise that will hurt like hell once the shock wears off.”

“Good,” Wade said.

“You could have killed him,” she said.

“He wasn’t getting my point,” Wade said. “It was one that he needed to understand.”

“Maybe you ought to shoot me too, because the only point I got is that you’re mentally unstable and extremely dangerous.”

“Being a cop, and surviving a potentially deadly situation, isn’t about weapons or vests,” Wade said. “It’s about one thing.”

“Luck,” she said.

“The badge,” he said.

“Oh, Christ,” she said. “Not again.”

“You’ve got to have confidence in what it represents and be willing to stand for it. People sense that. Or they don’t, and in that case, a vest isn’t going to save you.”

“That’s what you wanted to say when you shot Billy?”

“No,” Wade said. “I wanted to say that he’s stupid.”

“You did say that.”

“He wasn’t listening,” Wade said and walked over to his desk, where he had the gun locker that used to be in the trunk of his Mustang on the floor.

“Is your life so simple that your badge can be the answer for everything?”

“I wish it were. But it’s the one answer I can always depend on.”

He lifted the locker up, set it on the counter, and opened the lid. The guns he’d gathered from Timo and his crew were in evidence bags. She looked at them.

“Where did you get all these guns?”

“I recovered them on the street outside.”

“They were just lying on the ground?”

“They were after I asked the people who were pointing them at me to drop them.”

“How did you do that?”

“I made a persuasive argument,” Wade said, closing the lid on the locker and sliding it toward her. “You need to go home and get some rest before your shift. On your way, I want you to drop these off at the crime lab at One King Plaza for ballistic and fingerprint checks against any open cases.”

“I’ll drop them off,” she said, picking up the locker. “But I can’t promise that I’ll be back tonight.”

“Fair enough.”

Wade walked her to the door and locked it after her. Then he went out back, where Billy was drying the exterior of one of the squad cars.

“Ready for action?” Wade asked.

“Hell yes,” Billy said and tossed his rag.

They moved their personal vehicles into the fenced?in parking lot behind the station for safety and headed out in a squad car that smelled like piss?scented disinfectant.

Wade drove and Billy called in their status to the dispatcher, a woman who sounded startled to hear from them.

“We’re officially open for business,” Wade said.

“What do you think our first radio call will be?” Billy asked, playing with the hole in his shirt.