Con Artist Legacy

Chapter Eleven: The Stone

Chapter Eleven: The Stone

There was a time and a place for everything in life. Some moments demanded action, while others required patience and keen observational skills. This particular instant fell into the latter category, which is why I hadn’t uttered a single word since entering the police department. Well…it was one of the reasons and maybe I had spoken a few words.  

To be honest, a big part of me was still hesitant to learn anything else about my biological father. I was afraid of what this new information would do to my delicate soul. I had already inherited my mother’s neurosis, and didn’t want to even imagine what the knowledge of having a psychotic or criminal father would do to my mind.

And of course there was my irrational fear of cops. I had always felt that every single word I said in the presence of cops not only could, but would be used against me.

I blamed my grandfather’s conspiracy theories for that phobia. He disliked all types (and sizes) of law enforcement; it was like he knew something that the rest of the world didn’t.

“You know, my grandfather always thought the cops were just itching to bring us all down.”

“Ol’Damien wasn’t a normal man. You know the world isn’t out to get you, right?” Nate asked.

It was a reoccurring discussion between us, but the last time the topic had come up was right before Nate got sworn in as an officer. There was no convincing him then either, and I was forced to accept that my best friend had joined the dark side.  

“So please explain why…Bunni…keeps calling…us the…black…widows…” I retorted. Nate was walking rather briskly towards the police station. He was a couple feet in front of me, and I was struggling to keep up.  

“You have to admit that you Reynaldi women have a hard time holding on to your men.”

“Lies.”

“What? How can you call me a liar when the only one left standing is accident prone Russell? It just looks really suspicious, Ollie.”

“Your cop-colored glasses make it look suspicious.”

“I’m pretty sure it looks bad either way.”

“Nope, and what about you?”

“Me?” He asked.

“You’re standing, looking all healthy and stuff,” I said eyeing him up and down.

“That I am,” Nate said laughing. I suppose now that there were other suspects, there was a light at the end of his forbidden love tunnel.

“You’re welcome -”

“Shush it, we’re here,” Nate interrupted.

We were standing in front of a very large precinct; blue uniforms bustled all around us. Two rookie-looking cops walked awkwardly toward us. We tried to walk around them, thinking it was an accident, but they blocked our path.

“Detectives, please follow us. Our Captain has been waiting for you,” said the smaller one.  

“I am not a cop,” I said without thinking.

Ugh.

Nate had given me a single instruction, and I had messed it up already. I was sure that he had omitted my lack of qualifications when he spoke with the captain on the phone.

“Excuse me?”

Nate sighed, “She’s a private investigator hired by the family. She actually found the new leads.”