Shadows Ablaze

Chapter 23- Jaxon

Zieb's black boots have claimed the surface of his desk as he lounges back in his chair. Today has been silent. The streets are quiet, a body floating down it occasionally, which is odd considering that the weather feels more forgiving than it has for the last couple weeks. It's a nice reprieve compared to what we've been getting lately. The waves of heat rising from the gray cement beg to differ with the statement, but their presence went unnoticed by me, so I imagine it's the same with others.

The white board along the far wall continues to track the number of seizure reports and deaths. It's been a week since we started prioritize the tracking, but we've had Tarrik in our custody for the past four days. Despite the drug operation only having one dealer to run it, the reports of deaths and seizures continue to rise. Six names are written in red now, while another twenty-five are in blue.

I flip the page of the code of conduct book I'm holding. I'm not really reading it, I just want something to do. "Zieb," I break the silence, placing the book on the desk in front of me. "Why did you pick me for this position?" The question is one I've thought about before, but after the conversation this morning with Bear, I'm curious.

"You had good answers."

I cross my arms over my chest and raise an eyebrow at him.

Zieb chuckles. "Yeah, okay, they were mediocre responses," he admits.

"Then why? Why choose such an average kid?" It makes no sense.

"I didn't say you were average. I said your answers were." He sighs and offers a shrug. "You reminded me of myself."

I can't see why that would be. "Yeah? Were you an orphan too?" I bark out a laugh, thinking of the Justice Haven field trip to the police station a month ago.

It's meant to be a joke, but Zieb doesn't treat it like one. Something flashes in his eyes as he watches me. "It had more to do with your desire to do something. To make change."

That doesn't answer my question, but I don't press further. "Any more information out of Tarrik?" I ask, changing the subject to something less touchy.

Zieb shrugs. "Nothing of interest. He's holding back on us." There's a moment of silence. "He seemed to know you. That night of the raid."

The statement catches me off guard, even though it shouldn't. I knew this would come up eventually. I don't say anything, not sure what there is to say. Not sure whether I want to throw myself under the bus and get run over. I met Tarrik when I was in a different place in my life. At least, that's what I tell myself. But have I really changed all that much? Is this the life I intended for myself? Has this path provided me a different perspective? Am I a better person because I'm a cop? Or am I just a snitch?

The questions hang in the air around me. I beg them not to drift to Zieb. Not to tell him all of my dark secrets. He would never understand. I'm an orphan. I am little more than the dirt we walk on. I was desperate and would have done anything for a couple cheap coins to put a roof over my head when I turn eighteen. Is it really only a month until my birthday? One month until I leave the orphanage and face the world on my own. I almost laugh, I've been on my own for a while, this won't be much different.

Zieb's voice seems to roar through the office as he speaks. "That was a question, Debul. You're supposed to answer it." He huffs an annoyed breath. "Let me rephrase." He adjusts himself in the chair, placing his feet firmly on the ground and leaning forward, forearms crossed against the desk's wooden face. "How does a drug dealer know you? Did you buy? Were you friends back in the day?" he prompts.

I keep my expression neutral, not willing to let it crack. Zieb and I have grown closer since I got the job, but I'm still not sure he'd be loyal in keeping my secret if I were to tell him. Why would he be? He has no motive to. So I dig a hole in the back of my mind, pushing the secret so far down into it that no amount of shoveling will ever uncover it. Not unless I allow it to be set free... and I'm not sure that's something I'll ever do.