James Patterson - The Quickie

I stared at him for a beat after his little speech.

"I'm sorry," I said, cupping the bandage on my ear and cheek. "Did you say something? I can't hear very well. Some virus named Victor Ordonez shot me a week ago."

"You're coming close to insubordination, Detective Stillwell," Gray said. "We are here to do a routine interview. If you want us to swivel the focus of our investigation onto you, that can be arranged."

"Swivel it off who?" I said. "My partner? Well, get ready to write this down. My partner saved my life. I was running between two parked trains, and I was shot. I climbed for safety into one of the cars. As Victor Ordonez was attempting to come into the car where I was hiding – to finish me off, no doubt – my partner arrived and took him down."

"How many shots were fired?" Gray said. "Was it boom-boom-boom or just boom ?"

I took a sip of my coffee and set it down on my boss's desk. Some coffee spilled and I didn't give a shit.

"It was a gunfight in a train yard," I said. "I was shot. I was sucking floor. I wasn't playing sound engineer for some episode of Law and Order ."

Gray finally slammed his book shut.

"Fine," he said. "But for the record, will you answer me just one more question? Detective, you were the primary investigator in this case. You were on your way to apprehend two very dangerous suspects who you believed to be responsible for the death of Detective Thayer. Why didn't you call for the tactical assistance of the Emergency Service Unit?"

I sat there for a couple of seconds. He had me on that one. It was standard operating procedure, and I hadn't done it.

I opened my mouth to say… God only knew what.

Then my jaw dropped as my boss jumped in.

"I authorized her to go ahead."

I looked over at Keane. He looked back with an expression that said, keep your mouth shut.

"I determined that there wasn't enough time to wait, so I gave the go-ahead," Keane went on. Then he rose from his seat. He walked across the length of the room and opened the door for Navy and Gray.

"Now, my detective has to get back to work," he said.

"Thanks for the save there, boss man," I said after the IAB creeps left and Keane had shut the door again.

"Yeah, well, you and your partner are heroes as far as I and every self-respecting cop in this department are concerned," Keane said, taking his seat back.

"And oh, yeah," he said. "Fuck the IAB."

I WAS COMING OUT of Keane's office when my partner called me on my cell phone.

"Have the rodents left the building?" Mike wanted to know.

"The two-footed ones at least," I said.

"Come meet me for an early lunch at the Piper's," Mike said. "My treat."

It took me twenty minutes or so to drive to the Piper's Kilt on 231st Street in Kingsbridge. The Bronx cop and district attorney hangout was much more bar than grill, but the burgers were outrageous. Ten thirty being on the early side, the restaurant part of the establishment was empty – except for my partner tucked away in the farthest corner booth.

After I sat, I clicked my waiting Diet Coke to my partner's Heineken.

"How's the face?" Mike said.

"Flesh wound, like you said, amigo," I said with a shrug. "No hearing loss either. And as a bonus, I get to wear this attractive bandage."

Mike smiled.

"What do you think IAB will say on their report?"

"I don't know," I said. "I was too busy screwing with them to get any kind of realistic gauge. Worst case, I'll probably get a reprimand for not following proper procedure with the ESU. I can't see the commissioner coming down too hard on us, considering how expedient we were in clearing this mess up for him."

"That's true," Mike said. "I forgot about that."

The waitress delivered our cheeseburgers, the buns soaked with grease.

"Bacon, too?" I said, smiling at my plate. "Mike, you shouldn't have."

"Hey, for you, partner," Mike said, lifting his bottle, "I go that extra mile."

"I want to thank you, Mike," I said after a few chomps of burger heaven. I don't know if it was my pregnancy or what, but I was suddenly famished. I hadn't tasted food this intensely since I'd quit smoking eight months ago.

"I don't remember if I did or not," I said as I popped an escaping morsel of bacon into my mouth. "Thanks for saving me out there."

"Please," Mike said, tipping his bottle in my direction. "I watch your back, you watch mine. As far as I'm concerned, the police department consists of me and you. We're like that commercial for Vegas. What happens here stays here. Which reminds me."

Mike put down his beer and lifted up some papers from the seat beside him.

Even in the dim bar light, I could see they were print-outs. The burger I was chewing seemed to transform itself instantly into ketchup-flavored matchsticks as I spotted the rows and columns of numbers.

"I found this in the fax machine yesterday," Mike said. "Phone company sent over a second copy of Scott's Local Usage Details for some reason. How do you like that? It looks just like the one that you put on my desk, except this copy has your phone number all over it."

Across the scarred table, Mike drank in his beer, and my complete astonishment.

"It's time to talk to me, partner," he said. "It's time to unburden your soul to Father Mike."

"LAUREN, C'MON," Mike whispered to me as I sat there numb and speechless. "You didn't think you could get one over on me, did you? I mean, you're good, better than good, at what we do, but we're talking about me here."

I held my Diet Coke up to my suddenly hot forehead. My God, what was I going to do now? I was busted. Busted lying to my partner. How could I have done that to him? Mike had a heart bigger than most continents. And he was my partner, my lifeline, my guardian angel on the street.

I looked down at the surface of the table, then at the dark-paneled walls of the bar, anywhere but my partner's face.

He was right, though. I had to confess. If there was anyone who I could – and should – spill my guts to, it was him. I had lied by omission and every other way, and he had killed a man because of it. Full disclosure was the least I could do for Mike.

But wait a second, I thought. No! I couldn't. If Mike got jammed up with IAB, he'd roll on me. He'd have to. He couldn't lose his job. He was divorced, but he had two kids in college. He would have to tell what he knew, and the rest of the truth would come out, too. We'd be back to square one. Paul going to prison and Brooke without any means of support. No, I thought. It would actually be even worse now. I'd probably be going to jail along with Paul!

The last thing I wanted to do to my partner was be cruel – but I didn't see any alternative as I tried to think things through.

Finally, I pulled my eyes down from the gin mill's tin ceiling and smacked them into Mike's head-on.

"Leave it alone, partner," I said.

Mike made a face like I'd just shot him with a Taser. I thought the trembling, green bottle in his big hand was going to explode. For a few moments, his mouth worked silently, like a clubbed fish's.

"L-L-Leave it alone?" he stammered finally. "You were sleeping with him, weren't you, Lauren? You were cheating with Scott Thayer, was that it? Why didn't you just tell me? I'm your partner, your friend."

"Mike," I begged him with tears forming in my eyes, "please leave it alone."

"I killed a man, Lauren!" Mike's whisper screamed at me. "There's blood on my hands."

I stood, lifted my bag.

I didn't want to threaten my partner, but I was backed into a corner. There was no other way.

"Yes, there is, Mike," I said, dropping a twenty on my uneaten fries. "You did kill a man. I was the only witness, remember? That's why you of all people have to leave it alone."