Good Cop Bad Cop (A James Harris Series Book 1) Read online

  The drinks arrived and neither spoke as the waiter placed them on the table. Sensing he was interrupting, he beat a hasty retreat.

  “So is that what you’re doing?” Harris asked as he took a sip from his drink. “Pursuing me?”

  Christi took a long pull from her glass of wine. She let out a sigh of relief and sank back in her chair. “Oh my God, I needed that.”

  “Don’t evade the question,” Harris spoke.

  “Look Jimmy,” Christi leaned in, her manner switched to serious. “You know you’re a story. You sell papers.”

  “You mean the unsubstantiated bullshit reporters write about me sells papers.” Harris said, doing nothing to mask his disgust.

  “Well, when you don’t give the press the time of day, they are left to fill in the blanks on their own.”

  “Fill in the blanks? That’s a nice turn of phrase.”

  “You say potato…”

  “That’s bullshit, Christi,” Harris said, becoming edgy. “I do not have an obligation to the press. I have an obligation to the people I was hired to protect and serve.”

  “Whoa, Jimmy. Why is this getting ugly?” Christi interjected. “I’m on your side. Didn’t I prove that today?”

  “I’ll let you know when I read the paper tomorrow.”

  “Now who’s talking bullshit?” Christi responded coldly. “I told you already, I would never do anything to jeopardize that girl’s safety. Never.”

  Harris searched her face for any tell. He could see that not only was she passionate about what she said, she was also sincere.

  “Okay. Sorry. You just have no idea what it’s like to be swarmed by some of those parasites with press passes.”

  “No, I get it.”

  The waiter stopped by with a basket of thick sourdough bread slices and pads of butter. He laid it in the middle of the table and then placed two plates in front of them.

  “It shouldn’t be much longer,” he said. “How are your drinks holding up?”

  “I’m fine,” Harris answered.

  “Me too,” Christi added.

  “Very good,” the waiter said as he turned and walked away.

  The two sat in silence. Harris stared down at the table as his thoughts raced. He hadn’t gotten much from Carlos. The only thing the man had been able to tell him was that his sister had been excited about a quick job and that it was a Columbian she’d been dealing with. So that narrowed it down to only several million possibilities, he thought. He tried to make sense out of this revelation. The kidnapper wasn’t torturing Emily to get money. That was not how kidnappers operated. He was trying to hurt the parents. Why, he wondered? An old enemy? Somebody that Sylvia had put away, maybe? The family member of somebody Sylvia had put away? There was too much guesswork. Too many possibilities. What is concrete, he asked himself? What do I have that’s tangible?

  “Hello?” Christi suddenly broke the spell. She smiled at Harris. “You still with me?”

  “Huh?” Jimmy realized that he’d been lost in thought. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been ignoring her.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  “Nothing,” Harris answered. “I’m just trying to piece this together.”

  “Can I help?” She asked.

  “Christi,” he said softly. “I appreciate what you did this afternoon. But I can’t involve you directly in this case. You know that.”

  “I’d say I’m already pretty involved, bud,” she said. “And I’m not asking you to give me a gun. I just might be able to help you brain storm a bit.”

  Harris stared across the table at her. He saw her determination and pluck. She might be valuable to him after all. She was a very smart woman and two heads were better than one.

  “I’m just trying to connect the dots,” he finally said.

  “So fill me in. What dots?”

  “Well, why is the kidnapper putting her through all of this?” Harris asked, leaning across the table so he could speak quietly. “Is he just trying to make sure they don’t screw around with the ransom? Is he trying to settle an old score with the D.A.? Is he just a twisted psychopath?”

  “I have no idea. I couldn’t really make any judgment without seeing the videos,” Christi said. She grabbed her wine glass and took a sip.

  Her words caused Harris to pause. He said nothing, merely studied her. Christi remained silent as well and watched as he examined her boldly. Several seconds passed and he continued brazenly looking at her, sizing her up, measuring her. When the pause became uncomfortable she fidgeted slightly. She furrowed her brow and shot him a playful grimace.

  “So serious,” she mocked.

  Finally, Harris leaned back in his chair. He nodded his head slightly. He grabbed his drink and finished it with one long pull.

  “Let’s go,” he said, pushing his chair back.

  “What?” Christi replied unsure she’d heard him correctly.

  “I said, let’s go,” he repeated.

  “Right now?”

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “Before we eat?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you at least tell me why?”

  “You know why,” Harris stood and pulled some cash from his front pocket. He peeled off three twenty dollar bills and dropped them on his empty bread plate.

  “Just like that?” Christi asked.

  “You asked. Do you really want to help?”

  “Uhhh, yeah,” she stammered.

  “You’d better be damn sure,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s painful to watch, Christi,” Harris said. He locked eyes with her to ensure she understood the seriousness of the matter. “It’s very personal, very private and very painful.”

  “Oh my God,” Christi put her hand over her mouth. “Are you really going to let me see them?”

  “Yeah,” Harris answered.

  “What if I’m lying to you and wrote about it for tomorrow’s paper?”

  Harris didn’t answer. He simply looked at her. He wasn’t sure why, but he really did trust her. He’d realized that she was his type of person after she’d left the house, leaving him to deal with Carlos Not many people would have done that and then remained quiet about it. They were two very different people leading two very different lives. But he liked her. And for some reason, he felt he could trust her. There hadn’t been anybody he trusted in a long time.

  The waiter arrived with their plates and look quizzically at Harris who was pushing his chair back under the table.

  “Can you put those in to go boxes, please?” Christi spoke apologetically. “Something urgent has come up.”

  “Right away,” the waiter answered and hurried off.

  “I’ll pull the car around,” Harris said. As out of character as this was for him, it felt right. He turned and walked quickly to the door.

  Good Cop Bad Cop

  45

  Lt. Danforth sat in his state issued, tan, 2008 Ford Taurus. He had tailed Harris easily from the crime scene although he hadn’t expected him to have a pretty, young escort. He salivated at the thought of how this would be received by Deputy Commissioner Dinkins. The fact that they had stopped to duck into a restaurant made it all the more scandalous. A simple phone call to internal affairs headquarters had landed him the name of the girl. According to the report, she had been interviewed and claimed that while following Harris in hopes of finding a story, she had stumbled upon the crime scene. Other than hearing gunshots, she claimed to have not witnessed anything. She had told the investigator that it was only when the ambulances and back-up units arrived that she’d had the guts to approach the house.

  This was her story but it didn’t add up. It was very curious that she had left with Harris. Plus, from the I.A. officer’s opinion, it appeared that the two knew each other. Something didn’t smell right.

  Was Harris dating her, Danforth wondered? Was she with him the entire time and covering for him? The perp had reported that she was in the hous
e and had witnessed Harris interrogating him even after he’d been shot. The young lady had denied that vehemently.

  Harris was a married man and if by some chance he was romantically involved with this pretty reporter, it might be exactly what Dinkins was looking for.

  As Danforth reflected on the possibilities, Harris suddenly exited the building alone. He headed off towards his car. A few moments later the woman exited the restaurant and stood out front. She had a brown paper bag in her hand. A startled Danforth grabbed his camera and a minute later the familiar black Camaro pulled up and the woman got into Harris’ car. The camera clicked several times. Apparently they were only there to get take-out. A sly smile crept on the cops face as he realized there was only one of two places they were going to head now, either his place or hers. This was getting better. Danforth waited until the Camaro slid past him and then eased out into traffic to follow.

  He picked up his cell phone and placed a call.

  Good Cop Bad Cop

  46

  Two of the Blumquist’s best accountants sat at their dining room table. They furiously crunched numbers and read spreadsheets. Their fingers flew over their laptops keyboard and scratch paper was being quickly filled with scribbles and notes. Sylvia and Sheldon sat silently, side by side, on the other side of the table.

  Despite what people think, most of the rich do not simply have large deposits of cash lying around. The first rule of wealth is to never let your money sit idly. Money is used to make more money. Most of the Blumquist’s assets lay in real estate or stocks, bonds and mutual funds. But it was certainly possible, albeit painstaking, for them to put together the ten million dollars at short notice.

  As the kidnapper had laid out using a terrified and tortured Emily as a mouthpiece, a phone call would be placed in just two days. At that point they would have five minutes to transfer the ten million from their Cayman account to a yet unknown bank account. The horrific video made it quite clear what would happen if they did not comply.

  “Okay,” one of the accountants spoke, removing his glasses as he began. “I’ve sold most of your ETF’s and liquidated a part of your assets in the overseas investment portfolio.”

  “And I pulled the million you requested from your Roth IRA,” piped the second accountant. “But of course, you will be hit with a large tax bill for early withdrawal.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Sheldon spoke angrily. “Can you not bring up the taxes again? Who gives a shit about the taxes?”

  Sylvia placed her hand on her husband’s leg and squeezed.

  “Sorry, sir. I just felt it was my responsibility to inform you,” the man spoke sheepishly.

  “For Christ’s sake we can roll them into next year and defer the payment for a few years. By then I will have had offsetting losses that will absorb them.”

  Sylvia turned her head and looked at her husband in disbelief.

  “What?” He responded, noting the shocked look on her face.

  Sylvia glared at him. She didn’t have to speak, her expression said it all. Pushing back from the table, she walked out of the room.

  “Really?!” Sheldon yelled after her. “This again?!”

  The two accountants exchanged their own glances. Neither of the men spoke.

  “Look,” Sheldon said as he regained his composure. “She’s obviously under a lot of strain.”

  “Completely understandable, sir,” the first accountant said. “And I completely agree with your strategy.”

  “As do I, sir” the other man quickly added.

  Sheldon ignored the ass kissing. He was used to it. “Are we there yet?”

  “Pretty much, Mr. Blumquist. All that’s required is a couple signatures and the funds will be transferred into the temporary account.”

  “Yes, sir. I believe we’re done here,” the second accountant said. “Just a few electronic signatures and that will be it.”

  “Fine, show me where.”

  The two men hurried to the other side of the table with their laptops and after a few moments, their business was complete. They packed up their notes and laptops and, bidding their client a hasty farewell, exited the house.

  Sheldon walked out of the dining room. Entering the living room, he walked towards the bar and grabbed a bottle of forty year old Glenfiddich Single Malt Scotch Whisky. Only six hundred bottles are released per year and each bottle retailed at close to four thousand dollars. This bottle was a present from a real estate developer who had made a few million dollars partnering with Sheldon on a deal a year ago. Sheldon poured two fingers into a Waterford Crystal tumbler. He stared at the brownish amber liquid and thought of another partner he had some years back.

  It’s not possible, he thought. He sipped at the scotch and felt its numbing warmth spread downward. Sheldon shook his head as he tried to dispel the thought. It simple wasn’t possible.

  Good Cop Bad Cop

  47

  Christi sat wide eyed in horror. She had both hands covering her mouth in revulsion as she watched the rape of Emily Blumquist. Harris noticed her reaction but said nothing. His purpose was two-fold. He needed to watch the videos again because something was nagging at him, some connection he hadn’t made. He also wanted Christi to see them because he knew he would then have a rock solid ally.

  “Daddy, help me…”Came the horrible sobs from Emily as she endured a brutality most people will never know. Over and over again she cried for her father.

  Christi looked at Harris who sat in silence, gritting his teeth with controlled fury. Then she lost the battle of emotion and tears flooded down her face as she began to sob uncontrollably. Harris used the remote and paused the video. He placed a gentle hand on the reporters shoulder and let her get it all out.

  “I’m-I’m sorry,” she finally stammered as she tried to regain her composure. “That was very difficult to…” She stopped short, ashamed to admit that it was hard to watch when Emily had actually experienced it firsthand.

  “No, you’re right,” Harris replied softly. “It is very disturbing.”

  “Why-why is she covered with flowers?” Christi sobbed.

  “I don’t know,” Harris answered.

  “What right do I have to cry when she actually…” Fresh tears fell again and Christi’s nose ran.

  Harris reached over to a side table and grabbed a box of Kleenex which he then extended to her. Christi grabbed the box, quickly ripped a tissue out and wiped her face.

  “You don’t have to feel guilty, your reaction is completely normal,” Harris reassured her. He paused and then added. “You don’t have to watch the second one.”

  Christi dabbed at her eyes and then blew her nose. She looked into Harris’ face and took a deep cleansing breath.

  “No, I have to. I have to know. Not as a reporter, but as a human being. Can you understand?”

  Harris nodded, looking straight into her eyes. “Of course.”

  The detective stood and walked over to the DVD player. He pushed the eject button and a drawer popped out of the machine. Harris quickly fished the first DVD from the housing unit and placed a second one in. He pushed the drawer and it slid back into the machine.

  He walked back to the couch.

  “Ready?”

  Again, Christi drew a deep breath. She held it for a second and then exhaled. She nodded.

  Harris hit play and again the two sat in silence as a captive Emily read the kidnappers demands and then felt the torture of electrocution. Christi chewed her lip as she watched. Harris noticed that she did not cry this time. Instead, he saw a flame spring to life behind her eyes. He could see that she had moved from revulsion and sorrow to a place that was hotter and much more visceral. She felt raw fury.

  The short video ended and Harris hit the power button on the remote. The DVD player shut down.

  Harris walked back to the couch and remained standing. She rose to face him and the two locked eyes and felt a bond. They were in this together now. He knew that he could ask her anything.
Harris studied the young lady. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face puffy from crying. She had a tangle of blonde hair that had escaped her pony tail holder and fell across her face. He reached up and brushed the locks behind her ear and she took a quick breath as he touched her face. She reached over and gently took hold of his hand. Looking into her eyes, Harris felt his own pulse quicken.

  Christi leaned forward, her mouth parting slightly. Their lips touched and Harris placed a gentle hand upon her cheek as they kissed. It was a soft kiss that became more urgent as they continued. She stepped closer and placed her hand around Harris’ waist, dragging her fingernails gently across his back through his shirt.

  Harris, on the verge of losing control, took a sudden step back, shattering the moment.

  Christi looked at him, eyes wide, begging an unasked question.

  “I can’t,” he said softly and apologetically.

  “I’m sorry,” Christi stammered, her face turning red. “That was stupid.”

  She turned away and Harris grabbed her shoulders and turned her back to face him.

  “No, it was my fault. Please don’t be upset.”

  “I’m-I’m just feeling very emotional right now,” she explained.

  “Stop. I feel it too, Christi. I really do.”

  She looked at him without commenting further.

  “And believe me, you have no idea how badly I want to.”

  “Don’t,” she said.

  “Christi,” Harris continued. “I’m married. And I still love my wife.”

  “It’s okay, I was foolish.”

  “No. It was me. I’m sorry.”

  “Can we just forget this?” Christi asked.

  “I don’t want to forget it,” Harris soothed. “It was nice. But…I just can’t.”

  Harris stepped forward and hugged her. She hesitated momentarily and then returned the embrace.

  He stepped back.

  “Now where were we?” She asked. She smiled an uneasy smile.