“I know that, but there’s little I can do.”
“Or want to,” Josh interrupted.
“Hey, that’s unfair,” Behan said. “You brought this on yourself.”
“Okay, okay, but it depends on what side of the table you’re sitting at, doesn’t it?”
“I suggest you go home and work on getting these
allegations cleared up and come back to me when they are.”
Silently, Josh fumed.
“I’ll get Jenny to escort you off the premises.” Behan reached for the phone.
“Christ, Mike. Escort me off the premises? I’m not going to do anything. Give me some credit. I’ll go, but don’t make me look like a criminal doing it.” Anguish filled his throat and Josh spoke in a hoarse whisper.
Phone in hand, Behan hesitated, but returned the phone to its receiver. “Okay, Josh. Call me when this is cleared up. I’m here for you.”
Josh got up and tottered to the door on legs that dissolved with every step. The sentiment seemed hollow to him. The son of a bitch was just doing his job and nothing more. He twisted the door handle to leave.
“Josh—is there anything you can tell me?”
Josh looked over his shoulder. Behan seemed small in his big leather chair and looked like a disobedient child waiting for punishment outside the principal’s office.
He imagined Behan swinging his legs to and fro, anxiously waiting for his name to be called. He almost
laughed.
“No, Mike. I can’t say anything. Anything I say may be used against me in a court of law.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
His ex-coworkers were ready for him the moment he left Behan’s office. The corporate grapevine must have glowed red with news of his demise. They watched
him trudge back through the halls, never once engaging him. Being gawked at by all the knowing faces
was more than he could bear. It was a relief to be back in his office where he could hide. Josh pulled open his desk drawers and removed his personal possessions.
Jenny
entered his office and immediately burst into
tears. “I’m so sorry, Josh.”
Josh went over to her and put a comforting arm
around the tall woman. “It’s okay.”
“But I knew what they were going to do. I should
have told you,” she said through the tears.
“It’s not important.” Strangely, it wasn’t. A month ago the suspension would have been the supreme downfall in his life but now it was an inconvenience, just another nail in the coffin of normality in Josh Michaels’s life. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t the end of the world.
Certain elements in his life had the ability to bring about a personal apocalypse, but losing his job wasn’t one.
Jenny regained her composure and left his office. She returned with a cardboard storage box and helped Josh pack his things. He doubted he would return.
On the drive home, he considered his downfall. He felt himself cowering under the volley of stones thrown at him. It was time he started lobbing a few rocks himself.
Who would be first?
He pulled up in front of his garage and got out of the car. At this time in the afternoon, a quiet had fallen over his street. It was a place between events, the time of day when kids were at school and parents were either at work or on their way to collect their children.
Screams, shouts and laughter from a neighborhood
school less than a mile away carried easily on the afternoon breeze.
Josh went to the passenger side of the car and clumsily removed the cardboard storage box. The box contained the possessions from his office he wanted to
keep—framed photographs, a mug from Abby with a
picture of his plane on it, an expensive Parker pen from Kate and other personal belongings.
After locking the car, he carried the file box to the front door. Awkwardly, he tried to open the door with the box in his arms. He managed it with some effort and dexterity. The door clicked open and he knocked the door ajar with his knee. Just as he stepped inside, someone called him back.
“Mr. Michaels … Mr. Joshua Michaels?” the man asked.
Josh didn’t recognize the man walking up the path toward him. He was a big man with an army-style haircut
wearing a cheap sport jacket and non-matching pants.
You’re either a cop or another reporter. Please be neither. “Yeah, I’m Josh Michaels. What can I do for you?”
“I wonder if I could have a moment of your time,
sir.” The stranger dug inside his jacket for something and produced a wallet, flashed a shield and returned it to his jacket pocket before he reached Josh. “Lieutenant Tom Jenks, Sacramento Police Department.”
Bingo, my day keeps getting better and better. He had guessed right—his visitor was a cop. Maybe he wouldn’t get his chance to fight back today. It was another banana peel he hadn’t seen until it was too late.
He nodded to the policeman.
Jenks stopped about one pace too close for Josh’s liking.
The encroachment into his personal space made
him take one step back, and he backed into the door. It shuddered open. Imperceptibly, Josh stumbled, but regained his poise.
“You’d better come in,” Josh said.
“Thank you, sir.” The detective followed Josh into his house.
Josh placed the box on the floor next to the living room doorway, then gave the lieutenant his full attention.
“What can I help you with today?”
“I would like you to accompany me, sir.”
“Where to?”
“I would prefer to show you at this point.”
“What’s it in connection with?”
Jenks sighed. “All will become clear later. If we could make a move, I would appreciate it, sir.”
Josh narrowed his eyes. Why doesn’t he just drop the cloak and dagger stuff and spit it out? It had taken this cop sixty seconds to piss him off. “Is this to do with Margaret Macey?”
“Sir, can we go? I don’t have all day.” Jenks extended an arm and showed Josh the way out from his own home.
“I’ll write my wife a note first.”
“That won’t be necessary.” He saw Josh’s frown.
“We won’t be long.”
Josh didn’t like being bullied, but he wasn’t in the police’s good books as it stood, so he didn’t see the point in antagonizing them any further. He followed Jenks out the open front door to his car, a new Chevy Malibu. They got in the Malibu and pulled away from the curb.
“Am I under arrest?” Josh asked.
“No, sir. All will become apparent very soon.”
Some of these guys really get off on their jobs. This is probably some technique for sweating the suspect. He was convinced this had something to do with either Margaret Macey or the Dixon development. The cops were just dying for him to incriminate himself. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He settled back to enjoy the ride.
After several moments of quiet, Josh noticed the car didn’t have a police radio or any other police equipment,
