Hot Steel

I got out, bloodied from a superficial cut on my face. My thigh was throbbing with pain.

"What the fuck happened?"

"Gimme a drink," I muttered, limping towards her house.

I entered her house, which had a small foyer and then the living room. I sat down on a leather club chair and splayed my legs out, exhausted

Steph pulled up an ottoman and sat right across from me, expecting to hear the story. I lifted up my butt and dropped my pants. I pointed the ugly red blistered skin on the inside of my thigh. She drew back in revulsion.

"Drink," I said, repeating myself.

She raced out of the room and came back with a bottle of vodka and two highball glasses. She had rocks in her glass and poured us each a generous shot.

I downed the third shot of vodka before I started talking. I told her about the sabotage in the evidence room, the planting of false information to make it look as if Steph tipped off the drug dealer, and then Rachel's frame job, likely done by Chuck as well. She listened impassively as I spelled out the corruption of one of her subordinates.

I concluded with Chuck's warning that he was just a foot soldier and there were others, higher in the department, that issued his orders. When I finished I looked at her.

"I'm not one of them," she said emphatically.

"I want to think that to be true," I said hopefully. There wasn't any reason that both Steph and Chuck were in on it.

"It is true."

"Why?" I finally asked, wanting for it to be spelled out.

"Because I could have dropped you when you came into my house." She pulled the gun out that she had tucked into the back of her pants. "I wasn't sure of you either."

Something else had been nagging me. Why was she ambivalent about me helping Rachel? "What about Rachel? Why weren't you more supportive of my efforts to clear her name?"

Her eyes dipped down just a bit. Then the answer flashed through my mind. "You were jealous?"

Her defenses were raised but her denial was half-hearted. "No ... no ..."

"Steph?"

"She's so pretty ..."

I pulled her close to me and kissed her on the lips. "I don't blame you. But I'm not interested in her. I'm interested in you." I slipped my hand inside her blouse and cupped her breast. "Very interested."

* * *

I was standing next to Steph outside the front of the station. There were two black and whites, engines idling, light bars flashing, parked diagonally in front of us. Their exhaust fumes billowed and obscured the rows of parked police cars behind them. We were both drinking coffee, and I pulled the edges of my unzipped jacket closer together in the morning chill. We watched as Hightower limped as he was escorted by two uniformed officers out the front door. His hands were cuffed in front of him and his head was hanging down. He caught sight of Steph and me and raised up and turned his head.

"See you in Hell, bitch." I could see spit fly out of his mouth as he said it. His face was pure ugly.

I laughed at him. "You first."