Michael Prescott - In Dark Places

"A three-eighty wheel gun?"

"I'm surprised you know that term."

"Brand said that was the kind of gun he planted on Valdez after the fact."

"That doesn't prove anything."

"Did Valdez use a gun in any of his earlier crimes?"

"No, but it's not hard to believe he'd be carrying. Hell, everybody in Newton is carrying. Shootin' Newton, we call it. So Valdez makes a move on Brandthey struggleBrand pops him at close range. Calls in a nine-ninety-eight. Requests the captain, the coroner, and a shooting teamall by the book. When units respond, they find Valdez dead of a single gunshot to the head, and Valdez's thirty-eight on the floor by his body."

"Case closed."

"No. Not case closed."

The waitress returned with their orders. They said nothing until she was gone. Then Wolper leaned forward, elbows on the table, his left hand furiously squeezing the rubber ball.

"There was a thorough investigation. Brand was put on leave, sent to Behavioral Sciences for trauma counseling. Ballistics came back clean. Tapes of his two radio calls were consistent with his story. He's a decorated veteran officer, and Eddie Valdez was street scum. There was no reason to doubt that it went down exactly like Brand said."

Robin sampled her cheeseburger. It was good. "And the gun? Did it belong to Valdez?"

"It couldn't be traced."

"Then Brand could have planted it, just as he said. It could have been a throwaway."

"Throwdown," Wolper corrected through a mouthful of burger. "Police officers don't carry those."

"Oh, come on."

"Not in my jurisdiction."

"How can anyone believe that, after Rampart?"

"We cleaned up the department since Rampart. We don't tolerate rogue cops. Even if we did, Al Brand isn't one of them."

"Then why did he say what he said in session?"

"I don't know. But I sure wouldn't convict a man on the basis of something he said while he was undergoing some kind of experimental therapy."

"Fair enough. And I admit there are legitimate questions. That's why I came to you."

"To me?"

"As opposed to Deputy Chief Wagner. He's the one I probably should be talking to, but I didn't want to do anything rash. I didn't want to risk damaging Sergeant Brand's career unnecessarily."

"You bring this to the top brass, you'd better know what the hell you're getting into. Brand can't be a bad cop. This stuff he said amp; it's gotta be a glitch or something. Faulty wiring, maybe. You had the thing set on high when it should've been medium."

"It's not a toaster, Lieutenant."

Wolper took a long, thoughtful swallow of soda. "Valdez was a righteous shooting. Had to be."

"I hope you're right," Robin said. "I really do."

"How's this? I'll take a look at the file on the Valdez shooting and see if there are any loose ends."

"You have access to the file?"

"I have access to somebody who can get me a copy. What do you say we meet tomorrow and go over it?"

"All right."

"Your office? Afternoon?"

"My last session is at three P.M. Should be over by four."

He looked worried. "Not Brand again?"

"No, you don't have to worry about that. It's just a nice, safe inmate from County."

"Okay."

"If you're so sure Brand is innocent, why were you afraid I'd be seeing him again?"

"In my line of work, you learn never to trust anybody one hundred percent. That may be why my wife left me. Lack of trust. It's that whole stupid intuition thing."

"Intuition?"

"My ex was always going on about that. How I didn't have any. Intuition, that is. How I think everything through in a straight line, A to B to C. No imagination. No feel for people or situations. That's what she said. What the hell, she was right."

"Do you think so?"

"Probably. Hell, I took the detective exam twice. Didn't pass. My opinion was that it was goddamned affirmative action. When you're a white male, it's not enough to score well. You've got to ace the test. But Cindy, my ex, said a detective needs to be intuitive, and I'm not."

"And you think she's right?"

"She could be. To be honest, I don't even know what she's talking about. Intuitionwhat the hell is that, anyway? It's just another word for guessing. Police work shouldn't be guesswork."

"Intuition involves more than"

He waved her off and picked up the rubber ball again. "Yeah, yeah, I know. That's your thing, right? Look at a patient and just kind of sense what makes him tick. It's all head games."

"It's not a game."

"It's voodoo. Sorry, but that's how it looks to me."

"If you looked deeper, you might change your opinion."

"Changing my opinion isn't a real common occurrence with me."

Robin believed him. She said nothing.

"I've been around a while," Wolper went on, "and I know what's real and what isn't. The job you do amp; it's moonshine to me. I deal with facts, not feelings. If you can't touch it, smell it, taste it, what good is it? Getting a handle on feelings amp; it's like trying to grab a fistful of air."

She tried a smile. "At least nobody can accuse you of being one of those touchy-feely New Age guys."

"Yeah, that's one thing I've never been called."

"What would you like to be called? How would you like to be thought of?"

"Practical. A realist. I take things as they are."

"That approach works for you? You're comfortable with it?"

"I'm comfortable."

"Then why are you squeezing that ball?"

He looked at it as if surprised to see it in his grasp. "This thing? It's just a workout for my hand. Keeps the fingers strong amp;" He smiled. "Okay, that's a snow job. It's a way to release tension. Better than going out and getting drunk."

"Or going to the dogfights."

"That, too."

"You can't be happy that a sergeant in your station house is breaking the law, even if it is on his own time."

"I'm not happy. I just accept it. It's something Brand has to dofor now. It's a fact, and I'm a realist, like I said."

"It's realistic to let one of your men engage in self-destructive behavior?"

"Self-destructive." He snorted. "You sound like a documentary on PBS. The man is just blowing off steam."

"By watching two animals tear each other up?"

"Wouldn't be my choice. Makes me sick, to be truthful. But if that's what he needs to get through the day, I'm not blowing the whistle on him."

"How'd you even know he was going there?"

"There aren't too many secrets in the department."

"That's pretty vague."

"You want specifics? All right. A house in Watts was raided a month ago for dogfights, and Brand was picked up along with the rest of the crowd. He called me, and I got the charges dropped. He told me he'd been going there a lot. He also told me he was going to stop."

"He lied."

"He weakened. Anyway, I'd heard that the fights had started up again in a new house, same neighborhood. When Brand didn't show up for work today, I had a feeling he would be there."

"Then why don't you get the fights shut down again?"

"It's out of my territory."

"That's not an answer."

"We have a thousand homicides a year in this city. You want me to focus on animal abuse? We've got our resources tapped out just trying to save human lives. Besides, if you shut those scum down, they'll just start up again in a week or a month. It's the way it is."

"Realism," Robin said tonelessly.

Wolper shrugged. "Welcome to LA."

They had finished their burgers, and they were all out of conversation. Both seemed to sense it.

"So," Wolper said, "four p.m. tomorrow, your office?"

"Let me give you the address."

"I already know it. I'm a cop, remember?" He smiled. "I find out things about people who interest me."

Robin pondered that remark as she drove away. It was just barely possible that Lieutenant Wolper was trying to get something going between them, one divorced single parent to another. She wasn't sure how she would feel about that.