A Hope City Duet - Kris Michaels Page 0,10

transmitted over the airwaves—we made sure of that—they showed up knowing Samuel Treyson was in that warehouse. I left the crime scene and drove straight to Briar Hills; it was damn early, and it’s a quick drive. There was a crowd of press outside Treyson's house. So, number one, I believe there is a leak on the force. Two, I need a warrant so anything I get from these emails and texts can be used in court and three, I need a judge not in the Treysons’ pocket. I think that may take a miracle.”

Cliff was silent for several long moments. “You have to know the Treysons might have a couple cops in their pocket.”

“Yep, figured that.” His father hadn’t seemed too surprised that Mrs. Treyson had deferred his visit. His father was a straight shooter. Crooked cops were his number one target. He ran a tight ship and had cleaned house when he took over as commissioner, but rats scurry and hide. Sooner or later the remaining vermin would expose themselves and his father would be waiting for them.

“I can get you a warrant. Judge Scottsdale isn’t impressed with wealth as her husband is independently wealthy. However, if Mrs. Treyson’s lawyers can find justifiable grounds to contest the warrant, you are back at ground zero.”

“What reasons could they possibly have to contest a warrant when all we want to do is solve his murder?”

“They could use the grounds that the information in his emails or his texts is privileged because he owns and operates a business. They could claim proprietary information. I would if I was her lawyer.”

Brock grabbed one of his foam balls and squeezed the ever loving shit out of it. “So you’re telling me that a judge would limit my ability to conduct a homicide investigation to protect proprietary business information.” Son of a bitch, just when he thought he’d seen it all.

Cliff made a noise of agreement. “Look at it from another angle. What apps does he have on his phone? Don’t list them off. But seriously, take a look at all his apps including games and the software that comes standard on the phone. I can get you a warrant for all the apps. You can go through the emails and the texts and take note of anything in particular that may assist the investigation. Should you find anything, then we go for a strategic strike and request a specific warrant for a specific email on a specific date and time.”

“That won’t fall under the doctrine of ‘fruit from the poisonous tree’?” Brock shoved the folder he was working on to the side and stared at the desk blotter. He picked up a pen and doodled around today's date.

“If we were trying Samuel Treyson for crime, then yes it would. However, he’s the victim. We need to keep that in front of everybody’s eyes. The lawyers can dance to any tune they choose, but we do have a very powerful tool.”

“Yeah, and what tool is that?” Brock looked up from his desk blotter and nodded at his partner, who was walking through the bullpen toward him. Jordan was dressed to impress even though he was coming back from a night shift spent with Vice interrogating suspects and looking for witnesses. The guy always turned heads, both male and female. That vibe his partner threw off was potent shit if the action he got was any indication.

“We have the press, which is a huge motivator. People like the Treysons live their life in the court of public opinion. If that information was leaked to the press, it could taint the public’s view of this storied family. If we hit resistance, we can use a nondisclosure guarantee to entice them to release what we need."

“You are one devious son of a bitch, Cliff.” Brock laughed as his partner sat down across from him.

“I prefer the term tactical."

"Okay, you are one tactical son of a bitch, Cliff."

“Yes, yes, I am. Give me thirty minutes then list those apps and call Judge Scottsdale. She’ll approve the warrant.” Cliff paused for several moments before he cleared his throat.

Even though his old commander couldn't see him, Brock rolled his eyes. Whatever Cliff wanted from him, he was having a difficult time putting it out there. “Just spit it out, man.”

"It's coming up on two years. I was hoping you'd be able to come with Zack and me to the cemetery. I don't know if I'll be able to drive after."

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