Fighting Conviction by Greer Rivers
Chapter Nineteen
The euphoria jolted through Neal’s body like a wave of cool saltwater over paper cuts. He was still getting used to the new stuff. The first time he’d used, he’d bled like a gunshot wound. Since then, he’d perfected his methods. It was a different, shorter high than he was used to, but at least it kept him functional between hits. He liked the peace and quiet, too.
Going to the park two days ago had been a bad call he’d regretted every hour since. He’d never wanted to take his addiction this far, but fuck did the ice flowing in his bloodstream make the guilt burn a little less.
He pulled out his cigarette lighter and alternated between flicking it and twirling it in his fingers as he sifted through the files in front of him on his kitchen table.
What he had could damn the entire city. So many people would be ruined with the black-and-white words in front of him and he felt the weight of his responsibilities even with the drugs coursing through his veins.
That brat blonde in the tree was another worry. The look on her face of pure confusion and fear had convinced him she didn’t know who he was, but the uncertainty of having another person out there who knew his business ate at him like the ulcer in his stomach.
“Dammit, Cici. What am I supposed to do with all this.”
“Do the best you can, baby. I believe in you.”
The words sounded odd in his head. He hadn’t heard them in so long they’d become a foreign language.
“I’m tryin’ Cees. I’m tryin’.”
He rubbed his chest, trying to make the pain go away. It wouldn’t. He knew that. The doctors could say it was his bad diet, vices, and poor health. But he knew the score. His heart was ripped in two when Cici left him. Despite his best efforts, misery tore at the peace he’d tried to sew into himself. The needle on his side table wasn’t doing the job anymore.
Time passed, but he wasn’t sure how much. He only knew that it did from the shifting shadows on the green carpet. He’d forgotten to close the blinds all the way again. That shit was gonna get him in trouble with a nosy neighbor someday. Not that anyone in the old neighborhood bothered him. He was given an extra stipend to help control crime and everyone knew he was a cop so they left him alone.
A harsh shrill of a phone grated against his nerves. He dug into his holster, only to realize his cell was already in his hand. He lifted it up to his ear with disjointed movements, as if someone else was controlling his arm.
“Burgess.”
“Do not ‘Burgess’ me. You fucking called me, durak. What is wrong with you?”
Neal bristled at the accusation and sat up in his threadbare chair. He’d had it since the day he and Cici had moved into the house. “I’m fine. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about but get to the point.”
“Calm down, Neal. You need him. Make sure he feels like he needs you too.”
Neal inhaled Cici’s words deeply only to exhale on a cough. After his fit, he realized the phone was nearly silent on the other line.
“Hello?” he asked, half expecting to have to call back.
“Speak to me like that again Burgess, and you are fucking done. Do you hear me?”
Neal shivered at the panic shooting down his spine and he gulped on impulse. “Y-yes, sir.” The manufactured respect soaking his words made him want to vomit. But Cici was right. Neal had to make sure the boss felt like he needed him.
A frustrated sigh pushed through the earpiece. “Do you have anything new?”
“No.” Neal fumbled with his excuse. He had no recollection of calling the boss, but it must’ve been for some reason. “I-I was checkin’ in. Seein’ if there’s anything y’all need from me for the, uh, the party.” Neal twisted the empty medicine bottle that still stayed with him. There hadn’t been Zannies inside in a couple of weeks. Now it was where he hid whatever his dealer could offer. For once, Neal was thankful meth was so pervasive in the rural south.
“We have a good lineup of product to choose from—” Neal winced. “Have you gone through the list of applicants? Their backgrounds? We need that information. Another disaster like last year and all of us are through. You need to make sure these ones will not be missed. Obviously the contact we had last time was unreliable so we are depending on you.”
Neal flicked the lighter and watched the flame. Who was the contact last year? He put that on his mental list of things to look into. It was getting rather long, but hopefully he had time.
“I asked you a fucking question. When I ask a question, I expect a fucking answer you fucking idiot.”
“I-I haven’t finished it yet. But I’ll get to it, I swear.”
The man on the other end sounded like he was cursing in his language. “Burgess, if you fuck this up, it will be your ass up for the next auction. If you think what these buyers do to women is bad, you do not want to know what they will do with a useless, fat, old junkie. These men have fucking islands. I would hate to imagine what they do with all the product they collect. I am sure they get creative, though.”
Neal gulped, nearly choking on fear. “I understand.”
“Good. And by the time of the party, I would bet money the BlackStone group figures something out. But have someone to help make sure we can get past them this time. I am getting pressure from the boss to change the location, drop, and time, but I think we have planned better this year and there is more involved here than the Ashland County operation.”
Sweat pricked his brow as the information burned his conscience. Helping a human trafficking operation went against everything he ever stood for, but he was in too deep. And he needed them. At least he was shoring up ammo to fire back if he ever needed to. Police raids had taught him it was always good to have a backup plan.
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Keep using your excellent investigative skills.” The man on the other side laughed harshly and Neal’s face scrunched up in confusion.
Why is he laughing?
“I-I can do that. But is there not anything else you want me to do? I mean, for the scholarship party?”
“Get us that fucking information like I asked you weeks ago, you idiot. Why have you not—” The man sighed and groaned. There was an awful long pause before the Russian spoke again in an almost cordial tone. “You know what? I have an idea. Follow through on getting us that information and I’ll have Vlad ready an exchange for you. How about that? I understand you have changed your drug of choice? We can get that for you. High grade too. Better than what our own dealers have.”
Neal’s fingers twitched on his lighter as he glanced around for the spoon and dwindling baggy he’d just used. He hated giving up the background information of potential victims, but maybe nothing bad would even happen. Maybe if they got the information, they’d see the women weren’t good fits for the operation. Maybe he could even alter the information to make that happen.
He searched the side table next to him. The bag had somehow gotten lost in the tissues and newspapers he’d strewn about. Lately every time he got home he laid whatever he was carrying on a random side table or on the ground, needing to get to his chair as soon as possible to light up and get his fix.
The place was a mess. Even worse than usual. Cici would have a fit. He fingered the small, almost empty plastic next to him. He had no choice. The evidence room was out of the question. For some reason they’d made policy harder recently to get inside without a reason, a monitoring officer, or an evidence deposit.
The man on the other end went silent and Neal once again grew scared he’d accidentally hung up.
“I have to get off the phone, I cannot sit here on the other side while you jerk off doing what the hell you do in your own time. I need an answer, Burgess. If I cannot depend on you, then—”
“Alright… I’ll get the information. Backgrounds, next of kin, and homelife, right?”
“Yes, those things and anything else you might find of importance. I cannot stress to you enough how crucial this is. We need to get this to the buyers as soon as possible for their perusal.” Sweat ran down Neal’s face and he wiped it off with the back of his hand before drying it on the upholstery. “If you fuck this up, you know what you will be to me? A loose end. Do you know what happens to loose ends in my world, Burgess?”
“U-um… no, sir?” And I don’t want to know.
“They get cut.”
