Sea Castle: A Thriller (Underwater Investigation Unit) by Andrew Mayne

Author:Andrew Mayne [Mayne, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2023-02-20T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

ROGUE

“What’s this about?” I ask Jennifer Mazin as I enter the conference room at the FDLE office where she told me to meet her first thing in the morning.

“Let’s wait a few minutes for the others to get here,” she replies. Her face is aimed at her laptop, and she simply points to an empty chair at the far end of the table.

I take the seat and try not to wince from the pain. Run did a good job of patching me up, but the sting is still there. He said the bruises on my head, back, and side made me look like the loser in an MMA fight.

I’ve suffered worse. But this doesn’t feel good. The worst part is how stupid I feel.

I drank a beer and went to sleep early, then filed my report first thing after I woke up.

Mazin texted me ten minutes later, telling me to meet her here.

I was surprised she’d read it. She’d been ignoring everything else I’d sent to the working group email address for the case. In fact, everyone has pretty much been ignoring my reports.

I don’t take it personally. These cases can quickly overwhelm you with email and documents. Technically I’m working under Gwen—shudder—so informing Mazin was a courtesy.

The door opens and a man in his midforties wearing a high-end suit with a haircut to match enters the room. He gives me a long look, then nods to Mazin.

“Is Detective Gonzalez coming?” she asks.

“He’s parking.”

“Hi, I’m Sloan McPherson,” I say to the man, trying to overcome the awkward lack of introductions.

“Oh, I know who you are,” he replies.

“Care to return the favor?”

Mazin glares at me.

Screw her. This is feeling weird.

“Jase. Miami Police Department,” he answers.

The door opens and a second man enters. But not just any random man. It’s the dude in the silk shirt from last night—the guy bossing the gang members around.

“I believe you already met Detective Gonzalez,” says Jase.

Damn.

“Care to explain why you were fucking up my operation last night?” Gonzalez asks, his voice tight and angry.

“I didn’t—”

“Didn’t have a warrant? Didn’t notify Miami PD that you were going to be sticking your nose in places it doesn’t belong? Do you know how long I’ve been working undercover with that gang to build up trust? You could have got me killed. You could have got us both killed!” His voice has risen to a shout, his knuckles flat on the table like a gorilla, ready to pounce.

“Good thing we’re both professionals and know how to handle ourselves around juvenile delinquents,” I reply.

“McPherson.” Mazin’s way of telling me to back off.

I shut up to let Gonzalez talk himself down from his rage. Except he only seems to be getting angrier.

“Juvenile delinquents? Two of the ones you were talking to are killers! Things could have gotten really messy. The others were talking about killing you. I had to talk them down! Putting myself at risk!”

“I understand your point of view,” I reply.

“McPherson, this is serious. Let him talk,” says Mazin.

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