He had been in situations like that before.
Wearing a wire, going undercover, putting himself in a dangerous situation with no backup close enough to swoop him out if needed. But even though there was no chance that someone could shoot him, or that the outcome might really affect him, it didn't mean that there was nothing on the line or that he didn't feel any less under pressure.
He spotted his targets in the parking lot, cleaning up their patrol car at the end of the shift like the good cops they were. There was mud around the wheels, a simple consequence of the never ending rain, and wet fallen leaves sticking to the roof in a yellow, brown and orange layer. With the rain not giving any hint to disappear any time soon, they were focusing on the inside instead: get the empty coffee cups and food container, clear the trunk from any junk they might have accumulated during the shift, make sure they got all notes and documents gathered up.
He watched them for a bit, running the script and suggestions he had received in his head while finding the right moment, then gave himself a brief mental pep-talk before making his move. Then he adjusted the collar of his trenchcoat and took a cigarette out of the pack, finding hilarious how such a bad habit he kept trying to drop would come in handy all of a sudden, and walked across the parking lot under the rain making his way to the garage.
"Hei Detective," Kevin Ford nodded over at him, laughing at the way he was searching all his pockets for something to light his cigarette with. "Missing something?"
"Yeah!" He grumbled, trying to squeeze the smoke between his lips as he spoke. "My wife is forcing me to quit and searches my pocket every day looking for cigarettes and lighter, so I keep them at my desk but I don't know what happened to my lighter."
"She's looking after you, you know." David Teller noted, all the while taking a long drag at his cigarette and releasing a circle of smoke in the air, smirking at the detective's puzzled look. "What? I'm a grown man and I don't have a nice woman worrying for me at home."
"Fair enough," Huertas huffed, then gave up and came closer to the pair. "But do you happen to have a lighter?"
The two officers laughed, one of those exaggerated laughs that only real men could share in masculine complicity, then they motioned him to come closer and Teller offered some fire to light up Huertas' cigarette.
"Oh that's good!" Patrick moaned as he took in the first drag with evident satisfaction. "You can't smoke anywhere anymore these days!"
"Tell me about it! I hear they want to ban it in here too," Ford grumbled, throwing his finished cigarette on the floor not far from a stain of what was more likely motor oil before stomping it with his foot. "I can't even smoke at my own place when my girlfriend is there."
There was a round of understanding nods and murmurs amongst the men, clearly all deeply vexed by the health patrol messing with their habit, then they kept making small talks about other silly rules around the precinct and the force in general. Nothing extraordinary, mostly small stuff like the disgusting coffee or the expensive vending machines, but Huertas could easily see how the seemingly harmless opening was making waves. Sadly, he thought that part of the reason for the easy breakthrough was the shadow of the IA investigation on himself: if Teller and Ford really were up to what Lightman suggested, there was a chance that they perceived his alleged bad reputation as some kind of badge of honour. Whatever the case, they were opening up to him with frightening ease and he wasn't surprised, not in the slightest: after all he was following a script put together by a very capable lawyer, a brilliant psychologist and a rather sharp man who knew how to break suspects.
And, as it turned out, he wasn't bad at it himself.
They didn't need to do it that way, but it came natural to gather around the speaker for the listening anyway. Loker was at the dashboard, his eyes following all the parameters creating lines and graphs on the screens: pitch, volume, speed of the speech, time of responses and more. But everybody else was sitting in front of the main desk of the lab with headphones on, each of them focused on the same noises and words coming through with crystal clarity of sounds. Torres and Zoe were listening and taking notes, although of different kinds: Ria was focused on the voices, a human backup to Loker's technological tracking which was always helpful for comparison, while the lawyer was ready to jot down anything that would help to dismantle the case against Cal. Huertas was sitting next to them, relaxed on the chair but still very much attentive to a conversation he already knew, fascinated by the level of concentration and skills around him and feeling that he had to look the part.
And then there was Gillian, leading the charge, so to speak, with her head down and her eyes closed making sure to keep the headphones steady and in place on her ears and minimise the distractions. Huertas had seen her work up close a few times, Lightman and the rest of the team as well, but never like that, and it was even more incredible to him to see her like that knowing what was behind it.
When she had called him to ask about Teller and Ford he hadn't thought much of it besides understanding that she was looking for a way out of that mess for Cal, but when she had called him again… It wasn't so much the plan she had shared, simple and yet incredibly difficult to achieve in the way they wanted: what had struck him was finding out what Cal had been doing and why, to realise he had someone on his corner without even knowing it and that, the most shocking thing about it, to see that Foster was putting his reputation and safety pretty much on the same level of importance as Lightman's. It was easy to understand why when she had suggested how he could help he had jumped on the chance to return the favour.
He was far from being bored, but he knew what was on the tape - so clearly and rather loud through the top of the line headphones - and it was a little hard for him to concentrate as much as the others. They all knew he could have spared them the time and effort, but he respected that they needed to listen to it without prejudice of expectations and hear it themselves.
Gillian especially, he believed, deserved to experience the rush or excitement and relief of the moment Teller and Ford tripped themselves de facto exonerating Cal.
It had taken him a while to get there, despite all the suggestions it wasn't easy to bring up the investigation on himself in a natural way, but when he had first mentioned it he had immediately seen the recognition on the officers' face. Gillian had told him what to look for, how to identify that moment of complicity and understanding that could turn things around: she had described to him so well that he had nearly smiled victorious when he had seen it.
It had been all downhill from there, with them finding a common enemy in the annoyance of being restricted by the rules of their job from doing what was advantageous for them. Perhaps emboldened, maybe having come to the conclusion that Huertas was 'one of them' on the dark side, they had shown solidarity when he had complained about IA looking into him and hinted that something like that could easily be taken care of with the right countermeasures. According to Gillian's profile of the two, the officers were the kind of men who were proud of their misdeeds and itched to let others know how smart they were being in working the system and framing someone else at the same time, and Huertas had reacted accordingly playing dumb, acting as if he could get a lessons or two.
When the recording got to the part where they talked about how easy it had been to frame Lightman, how they celebrated screwing with the man's life and work destroying his reputation, Huertas looked at Gillian's reaction and wondered if anybody working at the firm was able to name the expression on her face. It saddened him that she had to hear that part, but he also knew that she was about to be vindicated big time.
That was when the tape came to his favourite part and he braced for the moment.
You sure did a number on him, from what I hear, he heard himself saying. Honestly, about time someone took care of him. Him and his people have been making us look bad for years with that crazy science of theirs.
And that stupid accent of his!
The men on tape laughed together, but the people in the room barely cringed at the lame insult. The truth was that they were too focused on the fact that they already had enough to potentially exonerate Cal to care about such a childish display of disdain.
Antd the best was yet to come.
Seriously though, murder? Huertas said on the recording, trying to catch his breath after the fake laugh. How did you pull that off?
Man, that was the cherry on top! Ford yelped with a touch of hilarity, sending a cold chill down Gillian's spine with his callousness. We knew the body was there, if you catch my drift. Right when we thought Stevie was good for nothing he came in clutch to save the day!
That was when Gillian turned around, for the first time leaving her position and opening her eyes to look at him with a face lit up by hope, happiness and gratitude so clear that he didn't need to be an expert in microexpression to understand any of it.