Page 11 of Captive

Angie

Ipassacross two lanes and hit the off-ramp at full speed. I park in my spot, the one marked with a yellow sign that reads Det. Tennyson. I climb out of the car, telling myself not to take no for an answer. This is just what I need, I tell myself over and over. It's time for a change. Maddox wants a new partner, then he can fucking haveone.

I walk briskly through the building, keeping my head down to let others know I don't want to chat and I especially don't want to talk about the exciting Madiffany news. I've made my own name up for the duo and decide it works just fine. I'm bracing for a big fight with Captain Clark, but I'm determined not to backdown.

Two pieces of luck in an otherwise unlucky day—Maddox is nowhere in sight and Clark's door is open. He has a policy that if his door is open, you can walk in as long as you knock once before entering. I hear his deep, baritone voice a few feet before I reach the blinds on his office window. I can see him clearly, but the person he's talking to is tucked too far into the corner of the office. It seems strange considering there are two empty chairs directly in front of the captain's desk. A shot of adrenaline jolts through me as I consider the possibility that the corner visitor is Maddox, but I push that ridiculous thought away. Maddox is more of a walk in and sit on the edge of the desk sort of visitor. I knock on the opendoor.

"Actually, Tennyson, I'm in aconversation."

"Jeez, it stinks in here." The smell of sweat, grease and bitter grime has permeated every inch of the office. I lift the collar of my t-shirt up over my nose and blink the odor away from myeyes.

"That's why the door is open. It's my new air freshener called 'dirty ass'. Otherwise known as Detective Olson." Clark motions to the visitor tucked in thecorner.

Detective Olson is sitting on a metal chair. He's normally a semi-sloppy guy who always looks as if his shirt and pants were just pulled out of a wet laundry basket, but today he's taken the grunge look to a whole new level. He has on a ripped, grease stained overcoat that makes him look vaguely like a creepy flasher. His bare toes can be seen through the tips of his filthy worn shoes, and he is wearing a pair of pants that look as if they are wearing everything Olson has had for lunch for the last three months. The pervasive, pungent smell polluting the captain's office seems to be rolling off Olson in waves. But it doesn't stop him from gobbling up a submarine sandwich. Bits of lettuce tumble to the floor in front of his wornshoes.

"Christ, Olson," Clark growls, "I'm going to have to have a ten person cleaning crew come through here after you're gone. What is it you want, Tennyson? If it isn't obvious, Olson just got off an undercover assignment and we'redebriefing."

"Yes, it's comically obvious." Before he can order me out, I sit in one of the empty chairs. "I want in on the Lace Underground investigation. Send meundercover."

Olson scoffs hard enough to spit sandwich from his mouth. Clark yanks a tissue from the box on his desk and makes a pathetic attempt at sailing it toward Olson. The tissue doesn't make it a foot before floating gracefully to the floor like a supple leaf from atree.

I turn to Olson. "Just vacuum that sandwich, Pig Pen. You don't even know what we're talkingabout."

He scoffs again but has the forethought to cover his mouthfirst.

"Olson knows more about the Lace Underground than anyone else on the outside, which isn't saying much," Clark says. "I'm not sending you undercover on it. Way too dangerous. No one knows exactly what's going on in this secret society, but whatever it is, it ain't wholesome or legal. There are at least ten girls missing and those are only the ones where someone cared enough to reportit."

I scoot the chair around to talk straight to Olson. The unsavory fragrance wafts my direction. I swallow to get the bitter taste out of my throat, but it only intensifies the odor. "If Freestone is luring rich men into his society, what's with the trashy sex perv coat and the sweet smell of Olson's shower-freebody?"

Clark gets up to close the door. "I know I'm going to regret this." He swings it shut and returns to his chair. He takes out a peppermint to suck on, apparently hoping it will mask some of the odor. I have serious doubts about that theory and turn down the offeredmint.

"Like I said, it's too dangerous." The mint clacks against his teeth as he pushes it against his cheek to talk. "I could have sent Olson in undercover as some rich asshole looking for whatever kinky good time Freestone is offering, but I decided it was too dangerous. Even for Olson. Besides, this undercover gig suits him better. We all know he's a slob." He laughs at his comment. Olson is unfazed and too focused on hissandwich.

Clark gets serious again with a throat clear. "So I'm certainly not going to send a wom—" He stops abruptly, knowing he just stepped on my favorite button. "I'm not sacrificing any of my detectives, man or woman," he amendsquickly.

"Anyhow"—Olson swallows his mouthful before continuing after a warning scowl from Clark not to talk with it full—"Freestone is looking for wild, pretty younggirls."

I blink at Olson a few seconds without a word to let him figure out hismisstep.

"Not that you aren't pretty, Ten." Olson nearly chokes on his own tongue, tripping to get over it. "I mean everyone around herethinks—"

"Shut the fuck up, Olson, before you bury yourself deeper," Clarkbarks.

I skewer Olson with my gaze for another moment before turning back to Clark. "I want this, Captain. I can do it. How much do you know? How can I get in as one of the girls in theUnderground?"

Clark crunches down hard on the mint and winces as he rubs his cheek. "Think I've got a cavity. Look, Tennyson, as much as I want to bring Freestone's operation down, I'm just not willing to risk it. You and Maddox are carving a big notch in the drug problem around the city, and that's where I want you tostay."

"Except that Maddox wants a newpartner."

Clark's face smoothed. "You know aboutthat?"

"I was sitting at his desk today, icing my leg." I let that fact sink in a second. He shifts his jaw side to side in remorse over his wide open for all to see memo to Maddox. "Ever hear of email, Captain? But that's old news." I sit forward and look him straight in the eyes. We have a good relationship, but occasionally, he slips into his father figure character with me. I'm not having it this time. "Look, I'll go in, but I won't stay long. If things get sticky I'll find a quick way out. Either way, I'll find out enough about the location of the sketchy secret club. I'll bring it back to you. Then you can send in the cavalry or whoever to stop Freestone. It's a win-win."

"Unless it's a lose-lose." Olson gets up and shifts to the chair next to me. Instinctively, I scoot my chair away from him. Clark rolls his chair back so fast it hits the file cabinet behindhim.

Olson isn't the slightest bit bothered by the fact that we're shoving furniture around to stay out of his circle of stink. "My miserable weeks undercover bore little fruit. All I know is the girls are suddenly gone one night. Then they're back the next morning. I asked around to some of the other street people to see if they knew what was going on and they freaked out. No one wants to answer or have anything to do withit."

I look up and down at his over-the-top disguise. "Maybe that's because you look like a fucking flasher or stalker instead of a homelessguy."

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