Debra Webb - Colby vs Colby

He met her gaze with one that cut her no slack. He understood exactly why she was here, and he didn’t like it at all. “I am very much aware of the kind of thugs who raped and murdered Anna Denali. The bastards deserved what they got, and if you’re here looking for conclusions as to whether or not Sam Johnson had anything to do with their executions then you’ve come to the wrong man.”

The detective didn’t back down. “I’m not here for your conclusions, Mr. Colby. I’m here for the truth,” she said frankly. “Sam’s name has come up in recent gangland rumblings. There’s still a contract out on him, and someone has recently decided to provide the necessary motivation to see that it’s fulfilled.”

“And,” Jim countered, “you wouldn’t mind clearing up that unsolved case sitting on the corner of your desk in the process. Isn’t that right, Detective?”

Detective Smith’s gaze held his, but he saw the faintest flicker of indecision.

“Jim,” Victoria cut through the mounting tension, “Detective Smith’s first obligation is to protect. That’s why she has come to us rather than launch an official investigation of her own.”

Jim’s attention never deviated from the detective. “Really? Or maybe your lieutenant didn’t think there was enough evidence to launch an official investigation so you’re on your own.”

Another glimmer of doubt told him he’d hit the nail on the head.

“I considered coming to you first,” Detective Smith said. “Now I’m glad I listened to my instincts. You obviously can’t see beyond your own uninformed deductions regarding a case about which you’ve heard only one totally unobjective side.”

Jim laughed softly, but there wasn’t a damned thing pleasant about it, any more than there was about the irritation churning inside him. “You would be correct, Detective.” He stood, leveled a firm stare on Victoria. “I’m quite certain you can decide what cases your agency should take without any assistance from me. This meeting is over.”

He turned his back and headed for the door. Right now was not a good time to speculate what the hell Victoria had meant calling him here, much less taking this pointless case. He’d form his conclusions when he’d cooled off and could think more rationally.

“Jim.”

Hesitating wasn’t something he would have done in the past. But there he stood at the door, making that hopeful pause…giving Victoria the benefit of the doubt. He needed her to trust him. This meeting, the detective’s presence, screamed of distrust and doubt.

“I’m taking this case,” Victoria said, “for you .”

Fury kindled, diminishing the hope and amping up his already soaring tension. He turned to face his mother. “I don’t need protecting, Victoria. I can handle anything that comes my way. You of all people should be aware of just how well I can do that.”

Victoria didn’t falter. He hadn’t expected she would. “I would like to offer a compromise.”

“What kind of compromise?” He shouldn’t stand for this…but she was his mother. Changing her mind would take nothing short of a presidential veto.

That Detective Smith kept quiet told Jim hat she and Victoria had already discussed the likelihood of this reaction and that the two had agreed on this so-called compromise. That only annoyed him all the more. Unreasonably so.

“The police aren’t going to investigate the threat to Sam,” Victoria suggested, “until someone has actually committed a crime against him, and that might be too late. I’m certain you don’t want Sam hurt any more than he already has been.”

That much was true. Jim dropped his hand away from the door. “So, you’re going to look into the case.” He didn’t need her to spell it out. The Colby Agency took cases like this all the time. But this was Jim’s associate. The case should be his. It should be handled by the Equalizers.

“Actually, one of my investigators is going to work with Detective Smith,” Victoria explained. “Detective Smith knows the territory and the facts surrounding what happened to Sam’s fiancée better than anyone. Her knowledge and contacts are crucial.”

“Why send one of your investigators?” Jim countered, determination and some amount of arrogance nudging him to push the issue. “As invaluable as Detective Smith’s knowledge of the case and her contacts might be, Sam Johnson’s would be even better. This case should be his. He’s the one with the most to lose.”

Even from across the room he noted the slight shift in his mother’s posture as she said, “He’s too close. The case is too personal for him.”

Jim resisted the impulse to laugh. “We both know that rule is only applicable in theory. It has no place in real life, otherwise Detective Smith wouldn’t be involved in this case.”

Victoria held his gaze for several seconds. Whatever she said next, she could not deny his assertion. “Perhaps you’re right. Why don’t we call in Sam and see what kind of compromise we can reach?”

Jim didn’t miss the way the detective tensed at the suggestion. Interesting. If she was on the up-and-up she had nothing to hide.

“You have a problem with that, Detective Smith?” He shifted the conversation back to the lady from L.A.

She turned fully to meet his gaze. “Absolutely not.”

“Good.” Jim looked back to Victoria then. “This is the only right way to do this. I don’t think we want to go down that other road.”

Victoria nodded once in acknowledgment of the line he’d drawn. Jim opened the door and gestured for Johnson to join him.

As he entered the room, Jim said, “Johnson, I’m sure you know Detective Smith from L.A.”

Johnson stopped in the middle of the room. His gaze collided with the detective’s.

Smith rose from her chair. “Hello, Mr. Johnson.”

The tension that rippled through Jim’s associate was more than just surprise. There was something between him and the detective. Something more than the ugly history of the homicide investigation.

“Detective Smith,” Johnson said before glancing over at Jim.

“Detective Smith has come all the way from L.A.,” Jim noted, working hard to keep the sarcasm out of his tone as he brought his associate up to speed, “because she believes there is some threat to your life.”

“There’s talk,” Smith explained, “that the Crew is planning a hit on you.”

Sam digested that information for three or four beats. “And you felt compelled to deliver that message in person?”

Definitely something between these two. Jim saw it in his associate’s posture and heard it in his voice.

Smith blinked once, twice. “I think it’s past time we got to the bottom of what really happened. That way maybe we can stop this before someone else has to die.”

“The truth is,” Johnson said with a bluntness that held everyone in the room silent, “your department couldn’t care less if I die. This isn’t about helping me, and you know it. It’s about solving a case that baffled L.A.’s finest, and I don’t mean my fiancée’s murder.”

Jim had to give Detective Smith credit, she held her ground. Her navy slacks and pale blue blouse were pristine, not a wrinkle, and her poise was nothing less than professional. When she spoke, her voice was strong and steady.

“My partner would like nothing better than to nail you, that’s true,” she admitted, “but I don’t share his theories on what really happened. What I do believe in is the truth. I think it’s time we knew what that was.” And then she made a major strategical error. “I also think you’re way overdue to stop running from the past.”

Sam Johnson executed an about-face and stalked out of the room.