Chapter Eleven: The Stone
There was a time and a place for everything in life. Some moments demanded action, while others required patience and keen observational skills. This particular instant fell into the latter category, which is why I hadn’t uttered a single word since entering the police department. Well…it was one of the reasons and maybe I had spoken a few words.
To be honest, a big part of me was still hesitant to learn anything else about my biological father. I was afraid of what this new information would do to my delicate soul. I had already inherited my mother’s neurosis, and didn’t want to even imagine what the knowledge of having a psychotic or criminal father would do to my mind.
And of course there was my irrational fear of cops. I had always felt that every single word I said in the presence of cops not only could, but would be used against me.
I blamed my grandfather’s conspiracy theories for that phobia. He disliked all types (and sizes) of law enforcement; it was like he knew something that the rest of the world didn’t.
“You know, my grandfather always thought the cops were just itching to bring us all down.”
“Ol’Damien wasn’t a normal man. You know the world isn’t out to get you, right?” Nate asked.
It was a reoccurring discussion between us, but the last time the topic had come up was right before Nate got sworn in as an officer. There was no convincing him then either, and I was forced to accept that my best friend had joined the dark side.
“So please explain why…Bunni…keeps calling…us the…black…widows…” I retorted. Nate was walking rather briskly towards the police station. He was a couple feet in front of me, and I was struggling to keep up.
“You have to admit that you Reynaldi women have a hard time holding on to your men.”
“Lies.”
“What? How can you call me a liar when the only one left standing is accident prone Russell? It just looks really suspicious, Ollie.”
“Your cop-colored glasses make it look suspicious.”
“I’m pretty sure it looks bad either way.”
“Nope, and what about you?”
“Me?” He asked.
“You’re standing, looking all healthy and stuff,” I said eyeing him up and down.
“That I am,” Nate said laughing. I suppose now that there were other suspects, there was a light at the end of his forbidden love tunnel.
“You’re welcome -”
“Shush it, we’re here,” Nate interrupted.
We were standing in front of a very large precinct; blue uniforms bustled all around us. Two rookie-looking cops walked awkwardly toward us. We tried to walk around them, thinking it was an accident, but they blocked our path.
“Detectives, please follow us. Our Captain has been waiting for you,” said the smaller one.
“I am not a cop,” I said without thinking.
Ugh.
Nate had given me a single instruction, and I had messed it up already. I was sure that he had omitted my lack of qualifications when he spoke with the captain on the phone.
“Excuse me?”
Nate sighed, “She’s a private investigator hired by the family. She actually found the new leads.”
The young officers didn’t look too convinced, but they escorted us to some dingy waiting room anyway. I stared at their retreating backs, as they locked the door behind them. Apparently our visit was a bigger deal than either Nate or I thought.
“Nate, are we in trouble?”
“I don’t know…but let me do all the talking from now on.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I really hoped that our deliberate omission concerning my qualifications hadn’t gotten us in trouble. Either way, maybe my grandfather wasn’t too far off in his theories, so I began to mentally prepare our escape routes.
“Detective Houston, Mrs. Stone, please follow me,” said the taller rookie.
“Miss.”
Gawd, I couldn’t seem to help myself today…I was totally having an ‘Elena’ type of morning.
“My apologies.”
Nate’s hands rested on my waist, walking protectively behind me. Or at least that's what other people would see, he was actually ‘secretly' pinching me every time I spoke.
We were led down several corridors, left, right, right, right, and left. The mental map I was working on told me we had just gone in a circle; I didn’t trust these men at all.
“Houston, Stone.” A prominent man, who I could only assume was the captain, welcomed us into his office.
“Captain,” Nate said as he walked past me. This time I kept my word and stayed quiet as he explained Rosswood’s open investigations, and how that had led us here.
“…we were told that your software recognized two of the men?” Nate finished.
“It’s amazing what new technology can do,” the captain answered. He was pulling out copies of the images I had found in Gray’s office.
“This man,” he said pointing to the sidekick, “is William Culler. He’s a career thief, currently serving a twenty-year sentence for kidnapping and extortion.”
That couldn’t be a coincidence…
“Would we be able to speak to him this weekend?” Nate asked.
“You may. He has agreed to talk, and I have set up a meeting for tomorrow.”
Well that was rude, the big boys were obviously not going to include me. What was I supposed to do in the meantime?
“What about the second man?”
“That’s where we run into some problems,” the captain answered. He studied me, not certain if he should speak or just ask me to leave. He probably figured that I would find out anyway, because he pulled out a set of contracts from his folder.
“It’s procedure in such delicate matters.”
“Of course,” Nate answered, as he took the contract and a pen. I immediately placed my hand on his to stop him from signing. You never sign a contract before reading it carefully, that idiot.
He actually had the balls to look amused as he waited for me to look over the contract. It took me a few minutes, but I couldn’t find any underhanded clauses. Anyway I gave him a nod of approval and we both signed.
“Henry Stone doesn’t exist…at least not the one in the photograph.”
Duh. I had figured that out already, maybe I should become the cop. I would probably get a lot more done.
“Who is he?” Nate asked calmly.
“His name is Michael Becks, and he is currently a lieutenant in NYPD’s robbery division.”
What?
Did this man just tell me my potential father was a cop? Oh no. I wondered if it was too late to make him just some loony killer. My poor grandfather was probably rolling around in his grave.
“He’s a cop?” This time Nate couldn’t keep his calm, he was clearly as shocked as I was.
“Lt. Becks has been on the force for almost thirty years. At the time of these photographs, he was a rookie on his first undercover operation…his alias at the time was Henry Stone.”
“What was he looking for? Did it involve Culler and his partner?”
“I don’t have all the information, but what I do know…I’m not at liberty to discuss.”
“We still have a murder.”
“Becks has agreed to speak with you tomorrow as well. He has access to the case files, and will share any information that seems relevant to your case.”
It didn’t look like I was going to be invited to that meeting either, but I didn’t really mind. How awkward would that be? Would he even recognize me? Probably not. To think my mother had given me an imaginary man’s last name...in hopes that her ‘true love’ would come back for her.
Somehow it seemed oddly fitting.
Nate and the captain got busy lining up both meetings, and quickly forgot I was in the room. I excused myself from the office and rookie number two escorted me out towards the lobby. I really needed the fresh air…and some time alone. I texted Nate, letting him know that I would just meet him back at the hotel for dinner.
I walked aimlessly for while, before figuring out my next step. Standing in front of a large public library, I imagined it came down to faith.
It was time to find out the identity of William Culler’s mystery friend.