The White Angel Murder

3

Harlow sat at the large circular desk he’d had custom designed by a young sculptor making a name for himself in the San Diego art scene. Calls had been placed to the papers and a few blogs the day he bought it, every story emphasizing the fact that he had paid for the desk himself. The photo in the Trib had the sculptor sitting at the desk with Harlow sitting on the edge, in the foreground.

The desk was clear except for a computer, a legal pad, and a box of files. The box had been pushed to the edge of the desk, as far away from him as possible. A large white label was across the top with the name TAMI CRYSTAL JACOBS written in red permanent marker.

His phone buzzed.

“Yes?”

“Chief, Melissa Stanton here to see you.”

There was a pause before he said, “Send her in.”

His office door opened and a woman came and sat across from him. She wore tight spandex capris and a Gold’s Gym tank-top. He rose and shut the door before sitting back down.

“I’d heard you were a personal trainer now. How’s that going?” he said.

“Make more money than I ever did in a uniform.”

“I bet. How you been, Melissa?”

“I’m good. Not great, but good.”

“I got your wedding invitation.”

“Are you going to come?”

“No,” Harlow said, leaning back in his chair.

“The mayor’s going to be there. So is the Lieutenant Governor. My fiancé is in the legislature.”

Melissa saw the struggle in Harlow’s face as he realized why he had recognized the name on the invitation.

“Don’t worry, Mike. If you decide to show up I won’t think less of you.”

“Well, maybe. You know, for appearances sake.”

“Sure.”

“So,” he said, crossing his legs, “what can I do for you?”

“Jonathan called me. He said you offered him a job yesterday.”

“And?”

“And he intends to take it. Why can’t you stay the hell away from him, Mike? You don’t need him.”

“I do need him. We’re starting a new unit. I’ve got good cops here, don’t get me wrong, but they don’t have that one thing. That ability to get into the heads of these sonsabitches.”

“You nearly got him killed last time.”

A vein flared in Harlow’s neck but his face remained passive.

“I did everything I could to protect him,” he said. “Before and after.”

“Oh please. You had a fucking psychopath as one of your detectives and in all those years you never saw it? How many brutality complaints did he have? Thirty? Forty? Jonathan only rode with him for a year, it was your responsibility.”

She calmed herself and looked out the window. She could see a tree swaying slightly in the breeze.

“He talked to me about him once,” she said. “He thought something was really off about Noah and he didn’t trust him anymore. That’s why Noah shot him. He knew something wasn’t right. Jonathan put it together.”

Harlow put his elbows on the desk and made a dismissive motion with his hands. “The past is the past. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be honest with him. You don’t give a shit about giving closure to those families. This unit is for you to erase some black marks in your career for when you throw your hat in the ring for commissioner. You’re using him.”

“Nobody put a gun to his head,” he said louder than he would’ve liked. “And what do you care? You left him when he was dying in the hospital.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“So it didn’t get finalized until two years later. So what? You as good as left him in that hospital bed. You think he doesn’t talk to me?”

There was a knock at the door and Tommy poked his head in.

“Chief, got somebody here from Channel 4 wants to talk to you about the Cold Case Unit.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Melissa rose and began to walk toward the door. “If you hurt him again, I’ll make sure you’re held for it this time. I swear it.”

As she walked out Harlow stood and straightened his tie. He checked his underarms for pit stains and made sure his hair looked good in the mirror he kept in a drawer in his desk. He then walked out to the front of the station to meet the television crew.