Terry reached out and cuffed him on the arm. “Yeah, but does she know?”
Ryker chuckled. “I haven’t said the words, but I think she knows.”
Terry looked at him and shook his head.
“What?”
“My mom, you’ve met her, right?”
“Yes, I have. She’s amazing.” A take-no-shit-from-anyone kind of amazing with a stare that could make you feel you were ten years old.
“Yeah, that’s one word for her. Anyway, my mom taught me two things about women. The first, never assume a woman can read your mind. She can’t and, not only that, evidently, according to what my momma drilled into me, she doesn’t want to.”
Ryker chuckled. “Ah, huh. Noted. What’s the second rule?”
“A lady is always right, even when she isn’t.” Terry arched a single eyebrow. “Didn’t your momma ever tell you these things?”
Ryker huffed and shook his head. “My mother was busy raising four other boys. I got my education through the school of hard knocks.”
“Oh, don’t you think my momma didn’t knock me around. She did. I still have a bruise on my ass from the last whipping I got with that wooden spoon.”
Ryker burst out laughing. “Yeah, when was that?”
“I’m thirty-nine, so thirty years ago.” Terry’s laughter melded with his.
“I see the captain and lieutenant of my Joint Drug Enforcement Team are hard at work.”
Ryker turned his attention toward the door. The mirth of the moment dried into nothing. “Colonel Fenton.” He and Terry stood. “How may I be of assistance?”
“You can explain to me how Desoto died.” The man’s face was beet red and a vein bulged on his large, bald head.
“As of this moment, we are uncertain Desoto is dead, sir.” He crossed his arms and waited.
Fenton blinked and his mouth fell open before he snapped it shut. “I received notification that his house burned down and he and two others were dead.”
“You did? From who? I know the reports we sent forward were that we had three unidentifiable bodies and pending forensic identification they would be John Doe one, two, and three.”
“It was your responsibility to bring the Edelman case to court. With Desoto dead, you have nothing.”
“Not exactly accurate either, sir,” he interjected. “We have the Edelmans' testimony, video of the events of the night, physical evidence in the form of letters Desoto wrote to Clare Edelman, and the crates of pressed Gray Death that we removed from her greenhouse. The DA believes we can still go forward with the case.”
“There is no way to pin this to Peña without Desoto’s testimony.”
“I believe the DA is aware of that, too.” Cliff Sands was trying to get Clare Edelman to roll on Rubio, which would put them one step closer to Peña. He wasn’t sure if his superior had any idea about the connection between Rubio, Desoto, and Clare Edelman, and he would not put that information in front of his glory-mongering boss.
“This team is a miscreant-filled mess. Your mismanagement of the Edelman case borders on criminal. I’m watching you, Terrell. You breathe in the wrong direction and I’ll dismantle this team. You may have friends in high places, but mine are higher.”
Ryker arched an eyebrow. Fenton wasn’t the only one who could throw out threats. “Yes sir, and sir, may I ask why you didn’t inform anyone that Desoto made bail yesterday?”
The man squared his shoulders. “Are you suggesting I failed to pass on information that would have prevented the events of last night?”
Ryker stood his ground with Terrence right beside him. “No sir, I asked why the information didn’t come to us.”
“I didn’t receive any information about Desoto until Major Dewitt contacted me last night to inform me of yet another fiasco.”
“My detectives must have misunderstood what the Deputy told them.”
Fenton sneered. “That seems to be the standard for this team. I’m watching closely, Captain.”
“Duly noted, sir.”
The man spun on his heel and stomped out of the room. Terrence released a huff of air, his shoulders lowering a bit. “Motherfucker is a snake.”
“He is. Get with King. I need the name of the jailor he spoke with, and I need a copy of the paperwork showing Fenton received the notification. Make it happen before Fenton can cover his tracks.”
“On it, and Ryker, don’t let this guy get to you. The commissioner has your back and every person out there would go to the mat for you.” Terry dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder before he power-walked from the conference room. Ryker dropped into the chair and drew a deep breath while he stared at the fake wood grain of the table. It was one thing for Fenton to be gunning for him, but the people on his team were outstanding. When the asshole called them miscreants, a red flag had waved in front of his eyes. He should have said nothing. He should have taken the verbal barb and let it wash over him like the rest of the shit Fenton said, but damn it, he would not let that man take aim at his team.
He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the clock. There were options. Options he didn’t want to think about, but if push came to shove and his people were in Fenton’s direct line of fire, he could punch out. An early retirement would remove Fenton’s bullseye from the team. He could find work somewhere. He had friends; hell, he could beg his half-brother for a temporary job. His gut rolled at that thought. Humbling himself to his half-brother would be a last resort. Fuck, retiring and giving up the fight would be the last thing he’d imagine happening, but after months and months of Fenton’s accusations and attacks, it was a course of action he’d be smart to consider. A call to HR would start the rumor mills, but he could pull most of the documentation from HR’s website.
“Cap, Rayburn and Watson just brought in Mouse.” Patel’s voice from the doorway snapped him from his defeatist thoughts.
“Copy that. What interview room is she in?”
“Three.
