Gary tossed and turned that night and buried his face deep down into his pillow. He folded it around his face and punched it in frustration. He rolled over on his back and watched the shadows that cascaded across his ceiling. It was a full moon outside, so it was much brighter outside than normal, especially for it being two AM.
He traced his fingertip along the fabric of his comforter, glaring at the alarm clock on his nightstand as if it were its fault that he was suffering from insomnia. Brigatti really didn't answer his questions well, which sent his mind into overdrive. If these three cops were involved in a drug ring it could be just as dangerous as messing with the mob. As they movies said, they never forget. His stomach wrenched at the thought that he could spend the rest of his days running from the Chicago Police Department.
His eyes widened. What if Brigatti was in on it? Gary shook his head at the thought. Not her, no way. She was a damn fine cop. But then again, he was naïve enough to think that about the majority of the brother's in blue until he learned about how common police corruption was in any department across the country.
Snow began to fall on the window outside, and he ambled to the pane, glancing out at the street below. Fat flakes slammed against the glass, making him step back. The refreshing scent of moisture crept through, overtaking his senses. It had a scent of cleanliness, with a hint of asphalt and exhaust mixed in. An orange hue radiated across the floor of his loft as the streetlights reflected off of the blanket of frost that was growing deeper by the second. He traced his fingers in the condensation. He usually could tolerate snow, but with temperatures below freezing it only meant he'd have to deal with icy patches in the morning.
Grumbling under his breath, he threw his body back down in the mattress and pulled the covers over his head. 'Stop thinking so much,' he thought to himself. His body finally began to drift off and a floating sensation made him sink lower into the mounds of covers.
Before he knew it, 6:30 rolled around and his alarm clock blared with early morning traffic reports. He woke up in the same position he had dozed in, and he hurled his covers off, pressing his palm down hard on the snooze button. He would have loved to catch another nine minutes of sleep, but a bang on the door made him fully awaken and his heart pounded as he picked up the newspaper on his rug.
More weather headlines. He flipped through the pages and went straight to the local section where the last article was located.
Chicago PD Still On Lookout for Unidentified Suspect
They were now referring to whoever it was as a suspect. His mouth grew dry. There was still no mention of a name, which was bittersweet for Gary. In a way, he'd like to know for sure that it was him they were looking for, but if his name was released he knew a number of people who would turn him in. Suspect last seen on the corner of State Street. His knees weakened and he sat down on his couch, reading over the article a few more times as if it would change on him.
He glanced up at the clock. It was 6:45 so he took a quick shower and got dressed. He wasn't sure where he was headed, but knew he had to get some questions answered before this drove him insane.
The snow only caused a hindrance the next day for Chicago drivers. The majority of articles were about fender benders and slips and falls, and Gary could easily take care of them on his way to his main destinations.
Car Rear Ends Trash Truck
He took note to the car, stepping out in front of it. It came to a screeching halt about a foot away from him and the driver blared their horn. Gary just shrugged and gave a sly smile and continued on his way.
Woman Falls On Patch Of Ice, Breaks Tailbone
"Be careful, ma'am." Gary grabbed the elderly lady's arm, pulling her around the slush. "Don't want you to fall."
"Mind your own business! Who do you think you are?" She glared at him, and he continued to walk. He was so used to negative results that it no longer bothered him.
He wished more days could be slow on the news, but he could win for losing. Even though not much was going on in the line of saving people he had to deal with his personal stuff. There was no such thing as a day of rest. He stood at a crosswalk, waiting on the signal to change so he could cross the street.
The light turned green, and he moved along with the crowd of people. His shoes sloshed through the ice, and he could feel the coldness blast down to his socks. He should have worn his boots but it was too late now.
"Hey you!"
At first Gary didn't turn to look, but he felt a hand clasp hold of his bicep, and he turned to see a familiar face on an adjacent sidewalk. He tried to pull away when he recognized who it was, but the man's grip was too much.
"Where you going? We told you the other day, we just want to talk."
Gary didn't know what to say and felt the stranger pull hard on his arm. His fingertips dug through his layers of clothes, pinching his skin below. It didn't do any good to resist, so he allowed the man to lead him into an alleyway where the other two cops waited. He took note to the fact that they were all dressed in normal street clothes.
"Who are you and what do you want with us?" The heaviest officer spoke up, getting right in Gary's face. Gary pulled back, wincing at the man's potent breath. "You certainly screwed up, whatever the case."
Gary licked his lips, feeling the cold brush up against him. "I'm not…" He trailed off. "I don't know…"
"He's stuttering. Something is up." The youngest of the three reared back, sending his fist hard into Gary's gut, causing him to hunch over in pain from the unexpected blow to his midsection. He retched and dry heaved, thankful nothing came up. "How's that, wise guy? That refresh your memory?"
Gary braced himself on a near wall, blinking away the stars in his vision. "I don't know what you guys want from me." He was finally able to stand up straight and flinched when the same man lunged at him, but didn't follow through with his attack.
"We want to know why you are following us. How much do you know?"
"I don't know anything. I just saw a guy getting beat up and I was going to help him." He didn't even buy his own story, and he knew it was true so he knew these guys wouldn't for sure.
The heavyset man balled his fist and hit Gary across the face and his body collided with the same brick wall he had just hunched himself against. His eyesight grew black for a moment, but when he came to the three men were blurs in front of him. His cheeked throbbed and he felt warm fluid flow from it.
"You listen here. If you so much as go to anyone about what you know or have seen, your ass will be put away for good. We can plant any type of crime on you, remember that. You better sleep with one eye open." The third of the group finally chimed in and Gary put his hand up to wipe away some blood that had dripped down and soaked into his shirt. "You hear me, boy?"
Gary pursed his lips and nodded. He didn't know what else to do except not argue and get out of the alley as soon as he could. He turned to walk away and the sound of the same guy's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Not one word."
Gary winced as he lifted his shirt up in front of the mirror. A huge bruise was forming around his ribcage and he noticed the hues of yellow mixed within the black. He ran his fingertips over it, flinching at the twinge of pain that shot through his body. His face was the same story. There was a scratch on his cheekbone about an inch long, as well as some swelling.
He turned the water on, allowing the luke warm liquid to run through his hands. He splashed some on his face, savoring the calming feeling he felt. The music from the bar pounded the walls of the bathroom, making his head ache.
He turned from the sink and made his way back to the bar, preparing himself for comments and remarks about his bruised up face. Keeping his gaze downward, Gary went to the back before anyone could get a good glimpse at him, but Jerry, one of his best men, followed him.
"Hobson, what in the hell? You okay man?"
Gary grabbed an aspirin from the first aid kit and swallowed two with a swig of water. He had no idea what he was going to come up with for an excuse, so his mind worked quickly. "I'm fine. Ran into a cabinet door this morning. What a klutz."
"That looks pretty bad, Gar. You might need to have it looked at."
Gary eyed the older man. "No, it's just a scratch." He grabbed a towel, walking back out to the bar. It was getting busy, and hopefully it would draw the attention off of him and to the customers who waited impatiently for their beverages.
He was so preoccupied with work that he didn't notice Marissa at the far end, sitting alone with her club soda in hand. It needed a refill, so he strode down to her. "Marissa, you need some more?"
She nodded. "How did it go today?"
He watched the liquid fizzle up, the bubbles sending off a mist from the top of the glass. He leaned over the surface of the counter, feeling the instant surge of pain from his bruised ribs. "I uhh, it didn't go well Marissa."
"What do you mean?" Her brow creased, and she grabbed for his hand. "What happened?"
"Let's just say that the cops I saw are definitely up to something. And they think I know. They don't believe that I have no clue what they are up to." He debated on whether or not to tell her about the physical attack. She'd probably figure it out eventually from other's observations. "They smacked me around a bit, but I'm okay. I'm fine."
Her fingers tightened around his hand. "What did they do to you?"
"It's nothing Marissa. Hit me in the face as a warning." He decided to leave out the part about his ribs. No one would know about that but him. "I gotta get back to work, Marissa. I'll talk to you later."
That night he couldn't get in a comfortable position. No matter what side he laid on his body didn't cooperate. It wasn't even that hard of a blow to his body yet it caused such a hindrance. He wasn't sure how he could not sleep, he was exhausted from the night before.
His mind raced with the possibilities of his situation. At least now he knew for sure that they wanted him. He just wanted to know why. Maybe if he could give them some answers they'd leave him alone, but he had no idea where to even begin with making anything up. Corruption within the department could run from something as simple as charging someone with the wrong crime to planting evidence on the innocent. To make matters worse, he didn't have solid ground to go turn them in. He didn't know their names or the precinct they worked for.
What really made him sick was the matter of trust. If you couldn't trust police officials to help you out, who could you trust? What if he went to turn them in and the others were in on the same scheme? That would mean more than three would be after him. He hated to think this, but Brigatti was someone he'd have to look out for.
His phone rang and he jolted up out of bed, debating on answering it or not. It was after midnight and anger shot through his mind. He reached for the receiver, fumbling with it. "Hello?"
"You remember what we said, Hobson. Not one word to anyone. We don't care what bureau you are with. We will get you."
Gary's pulse quickened. "How do you know my name?" No matter how hard he tried, his words came out shaky.
"We are Chicago Police. We can do whatever the hell we want. What makes you think you can step in and screw all of that up? You are messing with the wrong crowd, bud. Besides, do you really know how many people are on our side? You are outnumbered."
"I don't know…" Before Gary could finish the dial tone shot through, and he stared at the phone for a long second before hanging it back up. Even if he couldn't fully trust Brigatti, she was his only chance at getting some information. He sat back against the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him. It was going to be a long night.
Gary wasn't even sure if Brigatti was going to be at work when he arrived down at the precinct, but it was worth a shot. He ducked his head and tried to keep a low profile as he walked up the front steps. It was a challenge to not look paranoid. The last thing he needed was being arrested on suspicion for some type of crime he didn't commit.
He approached the desk sergeant, his eyes downcast. "Is Detective Brigatti in?"
The sergeant took a moment to answer. "I suppose she's in her office. Can I tell her who you are?"
Gary nodded and backpedaled to the bench behind him where he sat and waited. He observed cops that were bringing in what looked like the scum of the earth. Men who looked like they had gone weeks without a shower. Women who were tattered from years of heavy drug use. People proclaiming their innocence as they tried to fight out of their handcuffs. He swallowed hard. How many of these people truly were innocent, but fell into the hands of corruption? He hated that he thought of Chicago's finest that way, but since this happened to him he couldn't help it.
"Hobson. You going to sit there all day or come back to my office?" Brigatti stood in front of him, and he wondered how long she had been standing there. "What happened to your face?"
He stood up, brushing the wound with his index finger. "That's why I'm here, actually."
"You want to report someone?" She glanced over her shoulder at him as they entered her small office. "Have a seat."
His body nestled down in the cushion. She kept a pretty clean office aside from a few stacks of paperwork. "No. I want to talk about what I asked you at McGinty's the other day."
Her eyes widened and she closed the door behind her. "About corruption within the department?"
He nodded, but didn't say anything.
"Go on." She waved her hands in front.
He licked his lips and shifted his weight. "Yesterday I got cornered by three Chicago cops. I know they are guilty of something, I just don't know what."
She smirked, and it made Gary angry. "And what makes you think they are guilty of something. That intuition you get?"
He pursed his lips. "I saw them beating on a guy in an alley. When they saw me they chased me and now they won't stop harassing me. They claim that I know too much and I better not say anything about it."
"Did you get their names? What makes you so sure they are cops?"
Gary slammed his foot against the side of the desk, unable to keep a cap on his emotions. "They were in uniforms. And no, I didn't get their names. There was a young cop, an overweight cop, and uhh…" He paused as he searched for a way to describe the third one. "A normal one." He shrugged. "He was quiet. More mysterious than the other two."
Brigatti folded her arms over her chest. "That's all you got for me. A young cop? A fat cop? And a mysterious one? Do you realize you just described over three fourths of the department?"
"I'm sorry Brigatti, but it's all I got." He kept his voice low, knowing that she couldn't help him with the little bit of information he had. He stood up. "I'm sorry I wasted your time."
Turning on his heel, he headed out of her office, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Her reaction didn't tell him much. She could be involved or not, he still wasn't sure. It was time to do this on his own like he intended to in the first place.