Highway Butcher – Chapter Eleven

NOT EDITED

Chapter Eleven

3:47 PM; WEST LOS ANGELES POLICE DEPARTMENT, CHIEF OF POLICE JAMAL PITMAN’S OFFICE

Jamal lifted his head at the soft knock on his open door. He raised a brow. “Oh, so when the door’s wide open, you knock.”

David offered a smile. He had the grace to almost look apologetic. Almost. “Hey, if you want to have secret meetings with Bo’s stalker, close the door all the way. I didn’t knock because I could already see him.”

“I suppose I have to give you that one.” Jamal closed the folder in front of him, hiding some of his ‘extra curriculars’ that David didn’t need to also make himself a part of, and folded his arms over his desk. “I wasn’t expecting you back in today. Is everything all right?”

David stepped into the room, closing the door with a soft click behind him. “Bo ID’d both victims. He’s had the first gal identified since shortly after she turned up dead. He was hoping Travis would get her ID’d so that he wouldn’t have to steal his thunder. He had planned on calling it in anonymously, but then, uh…”

“Everything else happened?” Jamal suggested.

“Yeah.” David fiddled with the folder in his hands for a moment before walking over to Jamal’s desk and handing it over. “He did that social media scan thing. Our first gal, he found her through her profile picture. Second victim, he found a friend that had a public account and had posted pictures of them before. The victim’s account was tagged or whatever in the description, and even though her account was private and her profile picture wasn’t of her, she had her first and last name on it. I have last known addresses for both of them, and I’m planning on bringing in the friend for an official ID of the second vic.”

Jamal flipped through the printed off papers inside the folder. “I wish I could give him an official ‘attaboy’. He’s done an amazing job here.”

“Maybe you could. I mean, I know you’re worried about… about making him worse, but even when he was looking for Kathy and Dallas, his only high points were when you’d tell him he’d done a good job.” David dropped into one of the chairs in front of Jamal’s desk. “Respectfully, I don’t know why the hell he looks up to you so much. Craves your approval so much. But he always has, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he still does.”

Jamal had his own prominent theory as to the why, but it certainly wasn’t any of David’s business. A lie was, though. “I gave him his first chance at a real job at a real station putting his degree to real work. Are you truly shocked that he sees me as a leadership figure?”

“Leadership is one thing. His feelings toward you bordered on cult worship for a while there.”

Jamal couldn’t help but chuckle. “If you didn’t believe in the rumors about what I do outside of this station, would you still say it was cult worship?”

“No. Then I’d say his relationship with you is that of an abusive, narcistic piece of shit and their victim. So like his bio dad, I guess.”

“I have half a mind to shoot you for that comparison alone.”

David offered a smile. “But you won’t. I’m Bo’s only remaining link to this station, and you need me because you need him. It’s why I get away with coming in without knocking. For insubordination. For talking to you to way I do. You’re so caught up in this… desire to get Bo back to prove you’re a better person now, and you know you need me to fulfill it.”

“My desire to have Bo at this station isn’t to prove I’m a better person. Quite franky, Quinn, I… do not give a shit what you think of me. Would I like to be forgiven? Yes. But it certainly isn’t a requirement. My desire to have Bo back at the LAPD is because I know it is the one and only place he has ever felt truly at home, and the boy deserves to have a home. If he never solves a case again. If he never attends a crime scene again. If he just sits in his office all damn day until he retires. I do not care. If he feels at home, I’m happy. You can do with that what you will.”

“Goddamn, Pitman. All of your weird little highs and lows make you the most insufferable puzzle I’ve ever tried to piece together.”

Jamal offered a shrug before holding up the folder near his head. “Tell Austen he did a damn fine job. If for any reason he were to want to tag along with you somewhere, he has my approval to. I didn’t fire him, and I haven’t filed any paperwork for him to quit. As far as any attorney or citizen is concerned, he’s still a member of the LAPD, just on leave.”

“He just got out of the hospital, Jamal.”

“Given that I was unaware of his previous suicide watch, I’d say that hasn’t stopped him before.”

A far away look passed over David’s eyes. “Yeah,” he whispered. He pushed himself back to his feet, that far away look not quite gone. “I’m gonna… head home. See what Bo wants to do. Work out my next steps from there.”

“Sounds good.”

David nodded once before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. Across the room, Franklin sighed.

“What?”

“You were unnecessarily cruel to bring up Bo’s suicide attempt. You’re very aware that it was traumatic for both of them.”

“He started it, I finished it.”

“It isn’t a competition, Jamal. You’re just pissed because he called you abusive. Which you were. For years.”

“No. I’m aware of that fact. I’m pissed that he compared me to a man who allowed his wife to abuse their son for years before selling him for drugs.”

“I highly doubt Detective Quinn is aware of that version of events.”

“Oh, you mean the real version?”

Franklin sighed, rolling his eyes. “It’s not the story Mister Austen has been told, which means it isn’t the story he tells. Detective Quinn would know an abusive past, but not how he ended up, let’s say, in need of new parents. Torturing Quinn for that is cruel by any definition. Even you have to be aware of that.”

“If he doesn’t want shit thrown back at him, he should learn to walk around this station with even an iota of respect for me.”

“You abused his best friend for years. His best friend doesn’t even want to live anymore, and at least part of that is your fault. Expecting him to respect you is…” Franklin cleared his throat. “Respecting the person who tortured your best friend to the very brink is an impossible ask. I’m sure there’s at least one part of your past that allows you to relate to that.”

Unfortunately, Jamal was more than able to relate to David’s specific distain of him. But it didn’t make it piss him off any less. David’s hatred for him was a constant reminder of how he had treated Bo—what he had done to Bo—and seeing and speaking to that reminder every Goddamn day grated on his ability to cover the mafia’s influence with the charming Pitman facade of an exterior.

“I may need to request David only speak with me via email until Bo returns. I can control myself as long as I can’t see his face.”

“That could be never. I know you don’t want to consider that possibility, but it’s still a very real one.” Jamal let out a heavy breath. “I know. I’m just… hoping and praying that it doesn’t come to that. He doesn’t even want to live any more, and he’s still been secretly working this case. Through depression and paranoia and anxiety and God only knows what else. And he’s still working it. I don’t think he can truly survive without working forensics, and if he’s not doing it at the LAPD, where he used to feel at home, then I… I don’t know that there’s going to be a world with Bo in it for much longer.”

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