11
People seem to be walking on eggshells around me, seemingly aware that I’m about to snap but unsure why. Not Sergeant Williams, though. He doesn’t give two shits about my feelings or anyone else’s, and any talkback he deflects like it bounces off him and vanishes into the universe.
He hovers over my desk, crumbs raining down onto my files as he bites into another dry biscuit, crunching loudly. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, fighting the urge to pick up a pen and stab him in the neck. When he says nothing for a few minutes, my head shoots up and I stare at him. His uniform is covered in a trail of white crumbs, and a red stain marks the corner of his mouth. I can’t hide my grimace. “What?” I finally snap at him.
His mouth curls in a slow smile and he shoves another biscuit into his mouth, struggling to swallow the dry crumbs that coat his tongue. “We’ve got Izzy.”
I stare at him for a long moment, taking in his words. “Izzy?”
“Yup.”
“When?” I jump out of my seat.
“They’re bringing him in now.”
Isadore ‘Izzy’ Galanis is a piece of human trash, one we have been trying to put away for years. He’s also the reason I am no longer a detective sergeant. The problem with Izzy is that he knows how to throw his minions under the bus and keep his own hands clean. We know the guy is responsible for multiple executions of other gang members, the distribution of drugs on the streets, illegal weapons trade and assault, mainly on women who tend to be too scared and too broken by him by the time we get our hands on them. Calling him trash is an insult to trash. The difference between knowing and proving is a thick red line of paperwork and legalities.
“What did they get him on?” I round my desk and, like a group of other officers, make my way to the hallway.
“Everything.” I turn and look quizzically at Williams. “His number two turned and gave useverything. Turns out blood isn’t thicker than ass.” He bursts out into a sardonic laugh, and I raise an eyebrow still wanting more. “Izzy fucked his girl. Turns out he wasn’t into sharing.”
I have a million questions. Even though I’m no longer on the case, I worked it for three years, putting endless hours and time into it. I was just as invested as every other guy in the team, and their victory is partly mine.
I think back to the day I broke everything. Parts of me still swell with foolish, immature pride. Breaking Izzy’s nose felt worth it. Still does every now and then. Despite my punishment, despite the demotion, for a brief moment in time, that man cowered at my feet with blood dripping down his chin and onto my shoes, his eyes glistening with tears and his loyal posse of pussies watching me beat him down. He shouldn’t have said what he said about my family, and I should have known better, but it scared me, and I had to strike. It’s a survival mechanism imprinted on my DNA. He didn’t press charges; he didn’t need to. He knew he’d won and I’d be out of his way for good. He goaded me and, like an idiot, I fell for it.
A hollow angry breath leaves me as the doors to the station burst open and there he is, an arrogant smirk on his bearded face, his tattooed arms cuffed behind his back. Some of the guys clap and cheer as he’s marched across the hall and towards the interview rooms in the back. Our eyes lock, if only for a second, and he sneers. Obviously, he remembers me. How could he forget? I left a permanent reminder on his face so that whenever he looks in the mirror, he’d remember that day.
Inspector Young appears from his office and tells us to break it up, sending us back to our desks, like schoolboys in detention. I linger a moment longer, watching Izzy get dragged down the hall before the door slams behind him.
The first thing I notice each time I walk back into our offices is the faint smell of cigarette smoke and sweat. There is some kind of artificial chemical the cleaners use at night to try and hide it but it’s still there, soaked into the walls. I walk towards my desk, passing by my fellow officers; they’re whispering excitedly about the arrest. Every single man and woman in this room understands what a big deal this is. A prickle of irritation slithers under my skin, knowing a few of them will get a well-earned promotion, but I won’t be one of them. Izzy should have been my meal ticket, instead, he was my fall from grace.
Falling back into my chair, I stare at the fan overhead making lazy circles above me and pushing the hot pungent air around, when Williams re-appears. For such a large man, he treads quietly. I don’t look at him.
“We’ll be going to The Dog after work.”
I groan and scrub a hand over my face. “Not that piece-of-shit place. It’s going to be full of drunk kids.”
“And you’ll be off duty and having a drink. Seems like you could use one… or ten.” I eye him, and he stares back, unfazed. He’s not wrong. Icoulduse a few drinks, but I hate The Dog – dingy and dark with loud music upstairs and kids ten years my junior reminding me of all the things I haven’t done in years. “Come have a celebratory drink. You’ve earned it.”
I nod and reach for my phone. “I’ll call Annie.”
“Do that.” He winks and leaves me to my devices.
Once he’s gone, I dial.
“Hi.” Her voice is muted, almost fearful. She’s been timid around me again. I grit my teeth, wanting desperately not to be the man she’s afraid I’ll become.
“Hey, we got Izzy.” I don’t give her details; I never have. She can’t know much, but she knows the name and understands the impact of this arrest.
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” We’re silent for a brief moment, and I wonder how it is that a week ago she was soft and pliable and reachable, and this week I have managed to push her so far away that even talking to me is a chore for her. “The boys are going out to celebrate…”
“You should go. It will do you good to get out a bit.” She sounds almost relieved.
“Sure?”
“Of course. Try not to make too much noise when you come in.”