Read Online Middle of Nowhere by Ridley Pearson - Free Book Online Page A

leaving the victim to deal with the insurance underwriter. Detectives in the Burglary unit shuffled these reports, looking for possible pattern crimes or anything of substance that might connect up with information from snitches or fences they’d squeezed. They did far less field work than their counterparts in Homicide, Special Assaults, or Organized Crime, because a single, unconnected burglary was not worth a detective’s time—the likelihood of recovering and returning the stolen property was infinitesimal. Boldt needed Shoswitz to access his unit’s case files. He would also need the man’s outright cooperation if he were to round up all the recent burglary reports from the three other precincts. Shoswitz could pull this off with a couple calls to the other houses. But his entire team had walked out with the Fluers, and he seemed bound and determined to protect them. It didn’t come as a complete surprise to Boldt—Shoswitz was a guild player through and through, even though his rank of captain and the existing management contract prevented him from following the guild’s lead.
    “Is this for you or Matthews?” Shoswitz asked sarcastically.
    Any detective was practiced in the art of changing subjects, but Shoswitz had not been in the field in years. His attempt to derail Boldt succeeded only because it stabbed for the heart.
    Boldt knew not to get sucked into this, but his mouth betrayed him. “What the hell does that mean?” he fired off indignantly.
    “She’s lead on Sanchez, not you, right?”
    “So?”
    “So who’s here asking for favors?” Shoswitz asked rhetorically. “It means what it means.”
    “Which is?” Boldt asked.
    “Lou, do I have to spell it out?”
    “You have to spell it out,” Boldt assured him. His face burned. His mouth had gone dry. Phil Shoswitz had been a friend for years—and here he was questioning Boldt’s loyalty to his wife and family.
    Shoswitz continued working that sore elbow. “You two . . . you work well together,” he said, drawing out the statement and meeting eyes with Boldt, who felt a hollow sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “She dumped that rich guy for good, I hear.”
    “There’s nothing there, Phil. Leave it alone.”
    “Of course not.”
    “You’re pissing me off here, Phil.”
    “How do you think I feel—we all feel—about your current enthusiasm for the job?”
    Politics. It hit him like cold water down the back. He had not expected Shoswitz to be so blatant in his support for Krishevski. Boldt felt stunned. Another ally down, and this one still wearing the badge, still working in the office. A friend. How many others on the job felt similarly? he wondered. How much internal sabotage was taking place in support of the Flu? “You were guild secretary for five years. I understand that, Phil.” He tried to remind the man, “But you and I—we’re not only bound by a different contract, we’re bound by friendship. We’re not guild members. Not anymore. Are we still friends?”
    Shoswitz huffed. Half a laugh. Half a groan. “This new chief shouldn’t be playing games with people’s wallets. Big mistake. Look at us,” he said, indicating himself and Boldt. “Would we be here arguing like this if it wasn’t for him?”
    “He’s new.”
    “He’s a jerk. What does someone from Philadelphia know about this town?”
    “He’s one of the best in the country. We both know that.”
    “Strange way of showing it,” Shoswitz said. “Pulling overtime. Cutting out off-duty work. It’s asinine!”
    “A stadium went over budget. You want asinine? You look at Liz’s left forearm!” Boldt fired off. “They brought this into my house, Phil. They crossed a line.”
    “Agreed,” Shoswitz said quickly. “You have no argument from me there.”
    “Don’t I?”
    “Meaning?”
    Boldt said, “Tell Krishevski to bring forward whoever’s responsible.”
    “I’m forbidden from contacting Krishevski or anyone involved in the . . .