mustache Tom Selleck would envy, plus a smile that could disarm a small army, or a seething handful of Hope City politicos.
“If I die of diabetes, at least I won’t have to suffer through this case.” Brock rolled his head and popped his neck. "Did you see the swarm outside or were you able to avoid them?"
"Dealing with the press is in my job description." His father gave him a quick smile. "Did you make it through the crush unscathed?"
"I kept my head down and said nothing. I mean, hello, we just caught this case. Do I have any suspects? Ah… yeah, the entire city at this fucking point. What a shit storm." He shook his head and examined his cup. "Dad, I gotta ask, why didn’t you pull it from me and put someone from the Briar Hill district on the case? With you being the Commissioner of Police and I your son, the press is going to make something of me being the lead detective. Hell, I don't have the Briar Hill detectives’ connections or their… tact, to handle the fake ass people over on your side of town."
His father looked over his shoulder and nudged the door shut with his foot. “Fisher and Jeremiah will be available to you should you need their assistance, but this is your case. It was your call. It's your case; you follow it through to the end. Besides, it’ll be good for you. You can play nice; I know you can.” There was determination in his father’s eyes.
When his old man accepted the job as police commissioner, the entire force had been riddled with corruption. When the press realized that both he and his brother Brody were on the force too, the headlines read, 'Corruption Sweep Nets Nepotism Boon.'
“I’m gonna ruffle feathers, Pops. Hell, I might end up killing a golden goose or two in the process.” Brock took another gulp of his life sustaining hot bean juice. God did a good thing the day he poofed the coffee bean into existence.
“I have a feeling there are one or two geese over in Briar Hill this city could do without. Just make sure you color within the lines. I need you to sort this case as quickly as possible. Pressure is coming from way up. I've had seventeen calls already this morning from the governor on down. You and Jordan are a formidable team. If you need to sluff off the other case files on your desk, do it. Lieutenant Davidson already knows this one has priority.” His father walked across the room to the coffee pot and poured himself a Styrofoam cup full.
Jordan Whitt, his more charming and more socially acceptable partner, was the counter point on his compass. Where he was sharp edges, blunt conversation, and couldn’t be bothered with social niceties, his partner was polite, disarming, and could get people to talk to him. Which sucked. Well, not really. Jordan handled all the non-hostile witness interactions. Jordan was the pretty boy who could sweet-talk a fucking snake out of a tree. He had a resting bitch face that scared women and children, but they had a great system in place. He was damn good at becoming a statue when people were talking to Jordan. His height and bulk tended to intimidate just about everyone, so if imitating a piece of granite advanced their investigations, he froze and let Jordan work.
However, he conducted all suspect interviews. It wasn’t a case of good cop-bad cop. Brock’s military training and experience made him damn good at reading people and he had a built-in lie detector that rarely failed him. He'd keep hammering away until he got to the truth. His techniques were… inventive and sometimes skimmed the lines of legal, but never crossed them.
"Jordan is supposed to be loaned to the Feds for the task force they're building."
"Shit, that's right. The Grappelli disaster."
"Unfortunately, he's the expert on the fucker."
His partner had worked undercover for two years getting close to the guy before he busted him. Too bad the Feds couldn't keep the slimy son of a bitch in custody. Now that murderous bastard was on the loose, and the Feds were pulling his partner back into the mess. As it stood now, the finger pointing and hysterics at the Federal level were the only thing keeping his partner in Hope City. When they fucking pulled their heads out of their asses, Jordan would be gone, and God only knew how long