Ryker (Hope City #6) - Kris Michaels Page 0,3
the remains of the house. “Be careful in there. That thing doesn’t look structurally sound.”
“This one is better than some I’ve gone through, but I’ve got my hard hat and I’ve learned to have a very soft step.”
“See, captain material.” He raised a hand in farewell and headed back to his sedan. He palmed his cell phone and called his major.
“Hello.”
“Hughes, its Ryker.”
“Hold on.” He could hear the man moving around and then the sound of a door opening and closing. “What’s up?”
“They released Desoto from jail yesterday.”
There was silence for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday, or hell, wait until morning? Why the 3 a.m. briefing?”
“We didn’t know until we called the Cascade that they had released him. They notified Fenton. Not us.”
“What? Why in the hell? Ryker, I’m not caffeinated. Spell it out for me, please.”
“Desoto’s house burned to the ground. King called the Cascade to make sure Desoto was safe. The judge reversed his no-bail order and Desoto was free by noon yesterday. The jail called the JDET commander listed on the intake forms. Fenton.”
“Oh, fuck...”
“Yeah, so now we have suspected arson, three dead. Unknown identities. About a kilo of H in the kitchen which looked like it was in the process of being cut.”
“Wait, Desoto wasn’t a dealer.”
“Right.”
“Peña. Shit. What do you need?”
“I need Fenton off my back and a coordinated effort with homicide and arson.”
“You think this was a hit.”
“I do.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, just what this city needs, a drug lord on the warpath. All right. Look, I have to brief this up the chain. Fenton’s my supervisor.”
“Roger that. I’ll be calling the Deputy Commissioner. At her request, I’m informing her of all incidents involving Fenton.”
“I’ll deny it if you tell anyone, but I’m so fucking thankful you have someone flying top cover that isn’t under Fenton’s thumb. That man has it out for you.”
“Don’t I know it.” Ryker started his car. “I’ll call you this afternoon if we have any updates.”
“Are you heading into the office?”
“Nope. Home for a shower and some sack time.”
There was a pause. “You feel okay?”
“Fine. I just need to get a few hours before I head to the office. I didn’t get any sleep before they called me.”
“Sleep in as long as you can. If anyone gives you shit, tell them I authorized it.”
Ryker snorted. “If anyone gives me shit, they’ll be eating their shoe.”
Hughes laughed. “Yeah, true. I forgot who I was talking to for a moment. I’ll work that cooperation you asked for between the departments. I’m not telling Fenton about that. I don’t need him trying to block communication on this one. Call me when you have an update.”
“Copy. Night.” He ended the call and sighed. Hughes was a damn good cop, and he’d make a fantastic colonel. Unfortunately, Fenton was a weasel and it would take a stick of dynamite and a crowbar to remove the guy from his current position. So, the rest of the organization suffered while the man acted like a tyrant. Thank God the Commissioner and just about everyone else was onto the asshole’s games. He thumbed his contacts and found the number for the Deputy Commissioner. The call lasted two minutes, but it was two minutes well spent. If Fenton could spin tonight’s events to cast a shadow on Ryker or his team, he would. Letting the Deputy Commissioner know what had transpired before Fenton could throw it in his face took a ton of pressure off his shoulders.
He drove up to his small Craftsman, turned in the driveway, and parked beside the old SUV. Letting himself inside, he locked the door behind him, stripped away the foul-smelling clothes, and put them directly into the washing machine. Quickly loaded with soap and two caps full of those good-smelling beads, he prayed the stench of the fire would come out on the first wash. He liked those jeans, and the t-shirt had been a gift.
The selector button slid to heavy wash with a flick of his thumb and he depressed the button, starting the machine. With a soft click, he shut the laundry room door behind him and padded straight into the bathroom. His little house had two bedrooms and one bathroom. It was functional and worked for him. Small enough to keep clean and big enough to have everything he needed. He showered quickly, scrubbing hard to get the smell of smoke off his body. Unfortunately, the stench seemed to be pasted inside his nose. He gave