If one of his people had failed to up-channel that shit, heads would roll.
“Colonel Fenton.”
“Fuck.” That asswipe Fenton.
“Yeah, after the bust with Clare Edelman, Fenton was acting JDET commander.” Because he’d relieved you of duty wasn’t said, but Ryker got the message, loud and clear. Brody shrugged. “This mess isn’t on us.”
“Bullshit. If I knew Desoto was out, I’d have had eyes on him. This,” he motioned to the home left in rubble, “is on all of us because HCPD failed.”
Brock shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “Sir, from what Sean McBride was saying, the fire started at the back of the house. By the time someone—our people included—noticed it from the street, the men would have already been dead. You can’t take this on, sir. Someone wanted the people in that house dead.”
“McBride has the arson?”
“Yes sir.” Brock nodded.
Ryker blinked and asked, “Wait, why are you working in Central District?” King worked in the Southern District.
Brock shrugged. “I transferred. The wife is still down south. Different offices, but same hours. It works for us. She doesn’t have me doing the caveman thing around her, and I don’t have her hovering. And, before you ask, I requested the transfer after we took a long hard look at the situation. We need to be independent so we can work. Two strong-minded people. She’s got a superb partner in Grant Couch and my partner will join me at Central when or if he ever comes back from his loan to the FBI. Until then, I’m breaking in new gold shields before they get their permanent assignment.” He nodded toward the gathering of officers at the front of the building. One was in jeans and a t-shirt with his gold badge on one hip and a gun on the other.
Ryker rubbed the back of his neck and leveled his gaze on Brock. “Okay. I’ll have my major call McBride’s captain and yours. There is a strong possibility this directly results from the Peña Cartel eliminating witnesses.” He motioned to the crime scene. “Mind if I look?”
“Not a problem. Follow me.” Brock led the way through the crime scene tape that marked cleared areas for responding personnel. Brody fell in beside him. They trailed behind Brock a bit. Brody quietly grumped, “Fucker should have told us.”
“Should have, but you know he wouldn’t.” Especially if not telling Ryker would put egg on Joint Drug Enforcement Team’s face. If he was anything, he was realistic. It had been just over three months since they had reinstated him after that dickhead Fenton had tossed him to the wolves. Cleared of any wrongdoing, he re-assumed responsibility as JDET Commander, then Fenton had received a reprimand for wasting the city’s resources, which put his ass on a powder keg with Fenton waiting to light the fuse. The man was gunning for him.
The Commissioner had started the paperwork to remove JDET from Fenton’s control and place it directly under Central Precinct’s direct supervision, but the transition was taking forever. He understood. It took time to smooth feathers. The people over Fenton were not happy, and they were fighting the move. JDET made huge busts, they were multi-jurisdictional, and that meant it funneled federal money into the division. Only that money didn’t make its way to JDET. No, Fenton kept the money the FBI and DEA sent and used it to beef up other sections under his control. That’s why they’d done an end-run around the mother fucker and were now receiving a percentage of the monies forfeited from the massive drug busts they’d made. Fenton himself had threatened him—actually, the bastard flat out told him he would ruin his career. There were no witnesses to the conversation.
He stopped beside Brock King and shook his head. “I’d prefer if we didn’t get any closer, Captain. The crime scene techs and photographers are finished with the area for now, but we’re waiting on the ME. When they’re done, I’m going back in with the crime scene techs to see if the bodies were covering any evidence. Speaking of which...” Brock motioned behind them to the large black van that was arriving. “There they are. I’ll go get them. Take your time.”
As one, both he and Brody squatted down and peered at the dead bodies. The fire had made recognition impossible. Desoto could be any of the three, or he could be in the wind.
“Peña wants Desoto dead. The fire could have been Molotov cocktails again, like at the