Shadows Redeemed (Garrison Security Innovations #4)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THE STENCH OF STALE coffee and bureaucracy assaulted Sage’s nostrils as she strode into the New Orleans Police Department. The cacophony of ringing phones, shuffling papers, and muttered curses formed a discordant symphony that grated on her nerves. She ran a hand through her fiery red hair, suppressing the urge to turn tail and bolt as she remembered how much she hated this part of her former job. Coming here brought up too many sour memories.

Dane led the way with his usual air of calm authority, and Elvis brought up the rear, leaving her sandwiched between them, a slice of determination in a sandwich of anxiety. The last time she’d walked these halls, it had been to bail Jacob out of trouble, and now she was back to do the exact same thing. The irony wasn’t lost on her. She’d stuck her neck out for Jacob before, and now it looked like he might have made her efforts a complete waste of time. She knew Parker believed his brother, but he didn’t know what she knew. Didn’t know that last time, Jacob fudged the evidence. That left her doubting everything this time around, so why was she even there? Good question.

As they approached the detectives’ bullpen, the smell of burnt coffee intensified, mingling with the acrid odor of cheap cigars and flop sweat. Sage wrinkled her nose, wishing she could breathe through her ears instead. She recognized the two men immediately and when Blake Nealey looked up from his desk, his expression soured like milk left out in the Louisiana sun. Apparently, he recognized her as well, and by the look on his face, his memories were just as bad as hers.

He leaned back in his chair, tossing his pen onto his desk. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Silver Investigations. I had heard you were in town, and I can probably surmise why. Back to defend the indefensible?”

His partner, Sullivan, swiveled in his chair, a smirk plastered across his face. “Didn’t expect to see you darken our doorstep again, Red. Thought you’d learned your lesson about backing lost causes the last time around. Even heard you left the Big Easy, and your brothers took over the business.”

Sage bit the inside of her cheek, tasting blood. The urge to unleash a verbal tirade bubbled up inside of her, but Dane’s steady hand on her shoulder kept her grounded.

“Detectives,” Dane said, his voice level and professional as he took over the conversation. “We’re here to discuss the case against Jacob Franklin. He’s one of yours, but from what we gather, you think he’s gone rogue.”

Blake’s chair creaked as he leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. “Rogue my ass. He’s gone dirty. He may have been a decorated officer at one time, but now he’s in bed with the Broussards. If he thinks he can put a bullet in his handler’s brain and walk away scot-free, he’s crazy.”

The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed incessantly, casting harsh shadows across Blake’s face. Sage noticed the bags under his eyes, the five o’clock shadow that spoke of long nights and longer days. Part of her wanted to feel sympathy for the man, but the arrogant gleam in his eyes quashed that impulse almost as fast as it had risen. That, and the memories of what an ass he had been the last time their paths crossed.

Sullivan stood, stretching like a cat waking from a nap. “Why don’t we take this somewhere more… private?” He gestured toward an interrogation room down the hall.

Elvis saw where the man pointed and turned to Dane, one brow cocked. Dane merely smirked. “Lead the way.”

As they filed into the cramped space, Sage couldn’t shake the feeling of being herded like cattle to the slaughter. The interrogation room smelled of fear and desperation, with a hint of vomit that no amount of industrial cleaner could quite mask.

Dane took point, standing behind one of the uncomfortable metal chairs with the ease of a man used to high-pressure situations. Sage and Elvis flanked him, a united front against the two detectives who slouched against the far wall.

“You don’t want to sit down?” Blake asked, his brows raised.

Dane crossed his arms over his chest. “No. We’re good. But please, feel free to take a seat yourself.” When neither detective moved, he continued. “Now, what can you tell me about the case you have against Jacob?”

Sullivan scoffed. “And what makes you think we’re going to tell you anything? This is a police matter. Just who the hell are you?”

Dane didn’t flinch. “My name’s Dane Garrison. I own Garrison Security Innovations in Biloxi, and we handle a lot of government cases, as well as some big CEO assignments. Parker Franklin is our client, and we’re here to get him the answers he needs.”

“This isn’t Biloxi,” Blake said. “You have no power here.”

Dane chuckled as he pointed around the room. “And you have no power here.” He crossed his arms over his chest once more, staring at the detectives. “I know why you brought us in here. You hoped to intimidate us. But SEALs don’t intimidate. You should have done your homework on us first.”

“Let’s cut the bullshit,” Blake said, his tone sharp enough to draw blood. “We know Jacob’s dirty. The only question is how deep this rabbit hole goes. So, why don’t you tell us what you know, and maybe—just maybe—we can work something out.”

Sage’s fingers curled into fists, her nails biting into her palms. She’d been down this road before, watching these same detectives try to railroad Jacob. The sense of déjà vu was so strong it made her head spin, but she refused to give in to it.

Dane remained calm, a stark contrast to the tension crackling in the air. “We’re here to cooperate, Detectives. But it’s a two-way street. We’ll share information when you share information. Why don’t we start with what evidence you have linking Jacob to the Broussards or his handler’s murder?”

Sullivan’s laugh was as dry as week-old bread, and it grated on Sage’s nerves. “Evidence? Sweetheart, we’ve got enough to bury your boy ten times over. The question is, are you going to help us nail his coffin shut, or are you going to obstruct justice… again?”

The pointed look he gave Sage made her blood boil. She leaned forward, green eyes flashing. “Listen here, you pompous prick. Last time I checked, ‘innocent until proven guilty’ wasn’t just a cute saying. So how about you show us this mountain of evidence you claim to have instead of blowing smoke up our asses?”

“Sage,” Dane warned, but there was a hint of approval in his tone as well.

Blake pushed off the wall, looming closer to the table. “Watch your mouth, Red. You’re in our house now.”

“Then act like proper fucking hosts and answer the damn question,” Sage shot back.

“And watch your mouth, hound dog,” Elvis added with a low growl as he glared at Blake. “That’s no way to talk to a lady.”

For the next hour, the room became a battlefield of wills. Questions flew like bullets, accusations exploded like grenades, and the tension thickened the air until Sage felt like she was drowning in it. Through it all, Dane maintained his composure, parrying the detectives’ verbal jabs with the skill of a master fencer.

But as the verbal sparring match wore on, Sage couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Blake and Sullivan’s questions seemed rehearsed, their responses to Dane’s questions too polished. It was as if they were following a script, one designed to lead them down a specific path. They knew her team would come knocking and had prepared for it, which meant nothing they said could be trusted. Not that she trusted them to begin with.

As they finally emerged from the interrogation room, Sage felt like she’d gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer. The precinct’s noise washed over her—phones ringing, printers whirring, officers shouting across the bullpen. It all blended into a dissonance that matched the chaos in her mind, threatening to overwhelm her.

Outside, the humid New Orleans air hit them like a wet blanket. Sage sucked in a deep breath, trying to clear the stench of the precinct from her lungs.

“Well, that was about as pleasant as a colonoscopy,” Elvis muttered, running his hand through his hair as they crossed the parking lot to Dane’s car.

Sage turned to Dane, her eyes blazing. “Something’s not right there. Those detectives… they’re not just looking to solve a case. They want to bury Jacob, evidence be damned.”

“What evidence?” Elvis scoffed. “They never produced even a hill, nevertheless the mountain they claimed to have on him.”

Dane nodded, his expression grave. “I picked up on that, too. They seemed awfully eager to pin everything on Jacob without exploring other angles. I wish we could get our hands on his handler’s notes. There could be something there to guide us.”

“I’m sure those things are long gone. And it’s like they’ve already decided our man’s guilty.” Elvis bounced his gaze between the others. “Makes you wonder what they’re not telling us.”

Dane paused at the driver’s door. “Or like someone they’re making guilty.” He leaned on the car. “Look at this in a different way. What if they know he’s innocent, but need to make it look like he’s not? What if they’re working for the Broussards?”

As if on cue, Dane’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, gave a curt nod, and then answered it, setting it on the roof of his car after hitting the speaker button. “What do you have for us?”

Blaze’s voice crackled through the speaker, excitement clear in his tone. “You guys won’t believe this. I’ve been digging into your detectives’ financials—don’t ask how, it’s better if you don’t know—and I found some seriously sketchy shit.”

Dean leaned in, his interest obviously piqued. “Define ‘sketchy’.”

“We’re talking unexplained deposits, offshore accounts, the works. I had to do some creative digging to find it all, but it’s there. And that’s not all. Melinda dug into their case files just to see if these guys actually did their jobs. I’m telling you, these detectives have a habit of cutting corners, losing evidence, witnesses suddenly changing their stories. It’s a pattern, and it stinks worse than week-old gumbo.”

Sage felt her brows rise. “You eat gumbo?”

“No way, but you get what I’m saying. I’m surprised no one’s picked up on this before.”

Sage felt a chill run down her spine, despite the oppressive heat. “So they’re dirty.”

“Dirtier than the French Quarter after Mardi Gras,” Blaze confirmed.

“Where the hell have you come up with all these new phrases?” She bounced her gaze back and forth between Dane and Elvis, her brows pinched.

“I Googled them. Just wanted to fit in.” She could almost hear the pride in his voice. “Anyway, whatever’s going on with Jacob, I’d bet my last moon pie that your detectives are in it up to their necks.”

As Blaze continued to rattle off details, Sage’s mind raced. The pieces were falling into place—the detectives’ eagerness to pin everything on Jacob, their rehearsed responses, the feeling that they were hiding something. It all pointed to a conspiracy far larger and more insidious than they’d initially suspected.

“Holy shit,” Elvis breathed, voicing what they were all thinking.

Dane’s expression hardened, his jaw set in a determined line. “All right, it looks like we’ve stumbled into something bigger than we expected. The question is, did Jacob know about this?” He gave Sage a pointed look, but she could only shrug. Sighing, Dane gave her a curt nod. “Blaze, dig deeper. Find out everything you can about these two and what they’ve been doing over the past year. Leave no stone unturned.”

“You got it,” Blaze assured him before ending the call.

Sage felt a familiar fire ignite in her belly—the same pasion that drove her to become a PI in the first place. “So, what’s our next move? We can’t just sit on this information.”

Dane’s eyes met hers, and she saw the same determination reflected there. “You know the rules—once we start a case, we finish it no matter what. So, we’ll keep digging. If Blake and his partner are dirty, it means the entire investigation into Jacob could be compromised. We need to find out who they’re working for and why they’re so intent on framing Jacob.”

“And if the Broussards are involved?” Elvis asked, voicing the concern they all shared.

“Then we’ve stumbled into a hornet’s nest,” Dane replied grimly. “But we’ve come too far to back down now. We’ve dealt with corrupt officials before. As well as crime families. We can handle this.”

Sage nodded, as she clamped down on her resolve. This wasn’t just about clearing Jacob’s name anymore. It was about exposing corruption in the NOPD, seeking justice, and maybe—just maybe—making a dent in the Broussards’ stranglehold on New Orleans.

She stared over her shoulder at the police department building. The imposing structure loomed behind them, its windows reflecting the late afternoon sun like a thousand accusing eyes. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d just declared war on forces far more powerful and insidious than they’d initially believed.

As she turned and opened the car door, she felt a surge of determination. Luckily, the best team in the world surrounded her. They were in this together, come hell or high water. And in New Orleans, there was always plenty of both to go around.