Cheryl Bradshaw: Sinnerman

“Look,” he said into his phone. “I don’t care what you have to do—I want answers and I want them now. Call me back when you’ve got something, and until you do, there’s no reason to have this conversation, you got me!”

He slammed the phone down, took a deep breath in and let out an exasperated sigh and then shoved the mess of papers to the side of his desk and curved his body forward over it. I hesitated. He wasn’t in the best mood, and the last thing I wanted was to make it worse, but there was no getting around it.

“Do you have a few minutes?” I said.

His eyes darted in my direction.

“You wanna know something, kiddo?” he said, “I knew you’d pop up in my office today. And here you are.”

I stretched my hand inside my bag and felt the slip of paper. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Nick who had discovered I was back in the station and perched inside the chief’s office. He shot up out of his chair like he was a pilot aboard Apollo 13 and had just been cleared for takeoff and sprinted for the door.

“Listen,” I said to the chief, in a hushed tone, “I need to talk to you about something—alone. It’s important.”

The chief, who by this time had also observed Nick’s speedy approach, shook his head and ran one of his hands through his overgrown mustache.

“I’m not the playground monitor,” he said, “and this isn’t preschool, Sloane. If you two are having problems, you need to sort that out on your own.”

“Please,” I said.

It was the only word I could get out before Nick landed at the door and opened it and shuffled in. He glared at me and then the chief.

“What’s she doing in here with you?” Nick said.

“You ever heard of knocking, Calhoun?” the chief said. “Last time I checked this was my office.”

“And she’s my business.”

In all the years that I’d known the chief, I’d never seen his body move at the rate it did in that moment. It was like seeing a scene from a movie play out in fast forward. He nabbed Nick’s arm and with one push, forced him out the door he’d just come through.

“I’ll be right back,” the chief said over his shoulder.

And with that, the two of them walked in a brisk manner down the hall and out of sight. A few minutes later, the chief returned, but Nick was nowhere in sight.

“Everything alright?” I said.

“It is now that I’ve given the boy the rest of the day off.”

“Sorry about that.”

The chief pulled out the chair behind his desk and lowered himself into it.

“That boyfriend of yours is quite the hothead sometimes,” he said. “I thought he had more respect for you than that.”

“He’s just been on edge. It’s complicated,” I said.

With Nick off the premises, I pulled my hand back out of my bag and dispensed the note onto the chief’s desk and said, “The reason why I’m here is because of this.”

He snatched it up and scrutinized both sides and then shrugged.

“What’s this supposed to be then?”

“Read it,” I said.

He unfolded it, read it in silence, and then looked over at the unadorned wall to the right and repeated the words on the paper several times out loud.

“Is this what I think it is?”

I nodded.

“You can add he reads the local paper to his profile,” I said.

“When did you get this, and how?”

“About fifteen minutes ago I went to leave the station and it was under the windshield on my car,” I said.

“In my parking lot?”

I nodded.

The chief opened his desk drawer and pulled out a piece of plastic and deposited the note inside.

“The nerve of this guy,” he said. “Unbelievable.”

He turned toward me.

“And you,” he said. “What the hell were you thinking with that newspaper article anyway?”

“At the time all that mattered to me was getting his attention.”

He placed his fingers on the pressure points of both sides of his forehead and squeezed.

“Well, you succeeded.”

“Has he made contact with Coop yet?” I said.

The chief placed his finger on the center of the plastic that held the note.

“This is the first we’ve heard from him since the murders started up again.”

“That’s about what I expected,” I said.

He squinted his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just not shocked he hasn’t contacted him, that’s all,” I said.

“Should I be concerned about what you’re not saying with that statement?”

“Let me ask you a question,” I said.

He shrugged.

“Shoot.”

“That phone call you were on just now—were you trying to find out who leaked the news to the press?” I said.

“Why does that matter to you?”

“Because no one in this office betrayed you if that’s what you think happened,” I said.

“And you know this because…?”

“Call it female intuition,” I said. “I’ve spent enough time thinking about this guy and how he works.”

“Yeah well, you’re not the only one.” He sat quiet for a time and then said, “Let’s say I believe your theory, and I’m not saying I do—but if it didn’t come from my men, who then?”

I pointed to the pink slip of paper.

“He did it.”

“Sinnerman?”

I nodded.

“It’s important to him that the press gets the information right, and he wants everyone to know what happened. If you won’t release it, he’ll do it himself. It’s that simple.”

“You know I can’t keep this note from Nick,” he said. “My entire department will be privy to it before long.”

“I know,” I said. “I just didn’t want to be here when Nick found out whose car that thing was left on. I have enough to deal with right now.”

“Are things that bad between you two?”

I stood up and pushed my chair in.

“To be honest, I don’t know what they are anymore,” I said.

“Well, it looks like this Sinnerman jerk off, or whatever he’s calling himself these days, is back to his old ways,” the chief said. He picked up the plastic bag that contained the note and jiggled it in the air. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“We’ve just increased our chances of catching him?” I said.

He shook his head.

“It means I can’t have you out there on your own.”

“Why not? I’ll be fine. I always have—this isn’t any different.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Sloane. I’ll assign a detail to keep an eye on you from here on out. And before you open your mouth in protest, you should know it isn’t up for debate. I’m putting one of my best guys on you, and that’s final.”

CHAPTER 8

Maddie and I sat on a bench at Rotary Park. She half-listened to what I had to say and the rest of the time peered over her shoulder. When she couldn’t keep quiet any longer she said, “Who’s the hottie at four o’clock?”

“I’ve named him.”

“What?”

I nodded.

“Taye Diggs,” I said.

He shared the height of the real Taye Diggs, but had twice the muscle—maybe even three times.

“You don’t know his real name?” she said.

“All I’ve been able to get out of him so far is that he’s been assigned to me. I tried to strike up a rapport, but he wasn’t interested. I dare you to say something to him and we’ll see if he grunts at you too.”

“A guy who doesn’t want to spend all day playing mad gab with a woman—whoever heard of such a thing?” she said.

We both laughed.

“Well sweetie, I hope this is what you wanted,” she said, “because there’s no going back now.”

“It’s not so bad,” I said. “So I have a muscular shadow for a while. It could be worse.”