Chapter 9 - The Internal Affairs Audit
The glass-walled conference room on the second floor of the Seaport building was sleek, cold, and sterile.
Arthur Vance—a balding, middle-aged man with sweat glistening on his forehead and a cheap polyester suit that looked two sizes too small—sat nervously at the end of the long mahogany table. When the door opened and Gabriel Ashford walked in, followed closely by Harper Queen, Vance leaped to his feet as if he had been struck by lightning.
“Mr. Ashford,” Vance stammered, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers. “I—I didn't expect you to join this meeting. This is a routine internal review regarding former Detective Derek Lawson.”
“Sit down, Officer Vance,” Gabriel said smoothly, taking the head of the table and gesturing for Harper to sit beside him.
Vance swallowed hard, dropping back into his chair. He pulled a thick manila envelope from his briefcase and slid it across the table toward Harper.
“Ms. Queen,” Vance began, clearing his throat nervously. “As you know, Lawson has been formally indicted on charges of domestic abuse, extortion, and evidence tampering. However... his defense counsel is attempting to file a motion claiming that his actions were provoked by marital disputes and that your allegations lack sufficient medical corroboration from the precinct clinic.”
Harper stared at the envelope. Inside were copies of her old medical records—the ones the charity clinic doctor had supposedly kept off the books. Derek’s allies in the department were trying to scrub the file to reduce his charges to a misdemeanor.
“They’re trying to bury it,” Harper whispered, anger flaring hot in her chest.
“They are trying,” Gabriel agreed quietly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, fixing Vance with a stare that made the investigator look like he wanted to dissolve into the carpet. “And what is your role in this pathetic cover-up, Vance? Are you here to deliver a settlement offer, or are you here to hand over the original unedited precinct logs?”
Vance’s face turned the color of curdled milk. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a flash drive, and placed it gingerly beside the manila envelope.
“That contains the encrypted audio recordings from the Roxbury dispatch server,” Vance confessed in a shaky whisper. “Every time Lawson bragged about fixing domestic calls, every time he used his badge to threaten informants, every order he gave to suppress complaints against his name. It’s all there.”
Harper looked at the flash drive, then up at the sweating investigator. “Why are you giving this to us?”
“Because,” Vance swallowed hard, glancing nervously at Gabriel, “I have a family, Ms. Queen. And I know what happens to cops who cross Mr. Ashford’s business interests. I’d rather retire early with my pension intact than go down with a sinking ship.”
Gabriel picked up the flash drive, tossed it lightly in his palm, and nodded once to Mrs. Morrison, who stood guard by the door.
“Escort Officer Vance out,” Gabriel instructed calmly. “And make sure he receives a first-class ticket to a very comfortable, very permanent retirement in Florida. He’s earned it.”
As Vance was led out of the room, Harper let out a long, shuddering breath. She looked at Gabriel, the realization washing over her with absolute clarity.
May you like
“You orchestrated this,” she said softly.
“I merely accelerated a timeline,” Gabriel corrected, sliding the flash drive across the table toward her. “Now, Harper... go draft the closing argument that puts Derek Lawson away for the next ten years.”
