Read Online Fatal Exposure by Gail Barrett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gail Barrett
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promoted over far more deserving men. But listening to the smug man crow... “Old news, Delgado.”
“And it just got worse. The media’s on a witch hunt, claiming we’re incompetent since we haven’t brought him in.”
Parker bit down hard on a curse. Bad timing didn’t begin to describe it. Last week a prisoner named Markus Jenkins, the leader of the notorious Ridgewood gang, had mistakenly been released from the Roxbury Correctional Institution in western Maryland—then disappeared. The pressure to recapture him had been extreme. If the media had started bad-mouthing the police, the Colonel would go berserk. He’d crucify anyone who caused another problem and put his reputation at risk.
Realizing it was futile to postpone the inevitable, Parker left Delgado gloating beside his cubicle, crossed the hallway into the new building, then rode the elevator to the Colonel’s floor. The receptionist waved him through, her eyes wild as she tried to deal with the ringing phones.
“Come in,” Hugh Hoffman’s deep voice boomed out when Parker knocked on his office door.
Parker squared his shoulders and went inside. The C.I.D. chief stood at his corner window, peering through the open slats on the miniblinds. A shade under six feet tall, Hoffman was built like the lineman he used to be with a thick, stocky neck, massive shoulders and thighs, and a barrel chest padded with fat. He’d worked his way up the ranks of the police force, his unflagging work ethic and passion for fighting crime earning him widespread respect. Even Senator Riggs had recognized his potential and had begun grooming him for a future congressional run.
He turned at Parker’s approach. “Detective.” His eyes were devoid of warmth.
Stopping beside a chair, Parker braced himself for the coming storm. He didn’t have long to wait.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hoffman demanded.
Parker stiffened his spine. This didn’t bode well. He’d seen Hoffman in a lot of moods but never this livid before. “Sir?”
“Don’t act dumb. Lieutenant Lewis called me. She says you’ve been looking at the Walker girl’s file.”
“I was exploring a lead that didn’t pan out.”
Hoffman’s face turned a mottled red. A vein bulged in his florid cheek. He gripped the back of his desk chair, as if it cost him to stay in check. “Do you have any idea who that kid was? Erin Walker. Daughter of Dean Walker, head of Walker Avionics.”
Which sold weapon systems to the military, both home and abroad. Parker’s heart took a nosedive. “Big money,” he guessed.
“Big?” Incredulity rang in the Colonel’s voice. “We’re talking billions of dollars a year. And he’s a bundler for Senator Riggs, the single biggest donor to his campaign. And in case you haven’t been paying attention, the senator’s up for reelection next year.”
Parker closed his eyes. Hell. No wonder the Colonel was ticked.
“Now you listen to me,” Hoffman continued, his voice a dangerous growl. “Because I’ll only say this once. That case is closed. That girl took drugs and died—whether by accident or suicide, we’ll never know. Now leave it alone. That family doesn’t need you stirring things up after the grief that they’ve been through. And neither do I! If Walker gets a whiff of this, all hell is going to break loose. And I’ve got enough trouble right now with the media breathing down my neck.”
“I understand.”
“You’d better. I’m giving you an order, Detective. Leave that case alone. And I don’t think I need to remind you what will happen if you don’t.”
Parker’s face burned. “No, sir.” The message couldn’t be clearer. Hoffman would fire him if he disobeyed.
Hoffman held his gaze, letting his warning sink in. Then he pulled out his desk chair and sat. Parker fixed his gaze on the window, his pride still smarting as he waited to be dismissed.
But Hoffman seemed determined to make him squirm. He unwrapped a
“And it just got worse. The media’s on a witch hunt, claiming we’re incompetent since we haven’t brought him in.”
Parker bit down hard on a curse. Bad timing didn’t begin to describe it. Last week a prisoner named Markus Jenkins, the leader of the notorious Ridgewood gang, had mistakenly been released from the Roxbury Correctional Institution in western Maryland—then disappeared. The pressure to recapture him had been extreme. If the media had started bad-mouthing the police, the Colonel would go berserk. He’d crucify anyone who caused another problem and put his reputation at risk.
Realizing it was futile to postpone the inevitable, Parker left Delgado gloating beside his cubicle, crossed the hallway into the new building, then rode the elevator to the Colonel’s floor. The receptionist waved him through, her eyes wild as she tried to deal with the ringing phones.
“Come in,” Hugh Hoffman’s deep voice boomed out when Parker knocked on his office door.
Parker squared his shoulders and went inside. The C.I.D. chief stood at his corner window, peering through the open slats on the miniblinds. A shade under six feet tall, Hoffman was built like the lineman he used to be with a thick, stocky neck, massive shoulders and thighs, and a barrel chest padded with fat. He’d worked his way up the ranks of the police force, his unflagging work ethic and passion for fighting crime earning him widespread respect. Even Senator Riggs had recognized his potential and had begun grooming him for a future congressional run.
He turned at Parker’s approach. “Detective.” His eyes were devoid of warmth.
Stopping beside a chair, Parker braced himself for the coming storm. He didn’t have long to wait.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hoffman demanded.
Parker stiffened his spine. This didn’t bode well. He’d seen Hoffman in a lot of moods but never this livid before. “Sir?”
“Don’t act dumb. Lieutenant Lewis called me. She says you’ve been looking at the Walker girl’s file.”
“I was exploring a lead that didn’t pan out.”
Hoffman’s face turned a mottled red. A vein bulged in his florid cheek. He gripped the back of his desk chair, as if it cost him to stay in check. “Do you have any idea who that kid was? Erin Walker. Daughter of Dean Walker, head of Walker Avionics.”
Which sold weapon systems to the military, both home and abroad. Parker’s heart took a nosedive. “Big money,” he guessed.
“Big?” Incredulity rang in the Colonel’s voice. “We’re talking billions of dollars a year. And he’s a bundler for Senator Riggs, the single biggest donor to his campaign. And in case you haven’t been paying attention, the senator’s up for reelection next year.”
Parker closed his eyes. Hell. No wonder the Colonel was ticked.
“Now you listen to me,” Hoffman continued, his voice a dangerous growl. “Because I’ll only say this once. That case is closed. That girl took drugs and died—whether by accident or suicide, we’ll never know. Now leave it alone. That family doesn’t need you stirring things up after the grief that they’ve been through. And neither do I! If Walker gets a whiff of this, all hell is going to break loose. And I’ve got enough trouble right now with the media breathing down my neck.”
“I understand.”
“You’d better. I’m giving you an order, Detective. Leave that case alone. And I don’t think I need to remind you what will happen if you don’t.”
Parker’s face burned. “No, sir.” The message couldn’t be clearer. Hoffman would fire him if he disobeyed.
Hoffman held his gaze, letting his warning sink in. Then he pulled out his desk chair and sat. Parker fixed his gaze on the window, his pride still smarting as he waited to be dismissed.
But Hoffman seemed determined to make him squirm. He unwrapped a
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