Strength Under Fire. Dana Nussio

“Well, strangely, our conviction rate has barely risen.”

      “How can that be?”

      “That’s what state officials wanted to know when they started looking at our arrest records.”

      Instead of asking more, Ben crossed his arms and waited for the captain to explain.

      “They wanted to figure out how the drugs confiscated during traffic stops kept disappearing before trial,” Polaski continued. “How dirtbags were getting off scot-free when the arrests were clean. What they found were several discrepancies involving our evidence room. Someone’s been messing around with the evidence if not removing it altogether.”

      Someone like him? As he considered the likelihood of that, Ben started shaking his head. “What does all of this have to do with me?”

      “Do you remember what a common denominator is from elementary-school math? Well, you’re it. You signed off on the evidence chain in several of the cases in question. Investigators are still looking at the other cases, though.”

      “But my name could be found on hundreds of evidence chains.” As soon as the words were out of Ben’s mouth, the reality of them hit him squarely in the head. He’d been set up. How? Why? By whom? And again...why?

      “I can’t be the only officer who signed off on those pieces of evidence.” He wasn’t even sure why he’d said that. Even if someone had set him up, how could he wish for one of his friends to be falsely accused just so he could avoid the headache of it? That was further proof that he was no hero, if anyone had ever been fool enough to consider him one in the first place.

      “So far, you’re the only common denominator.”

      This time Ben nodded. The last thing he needed to do was make this worse. “You do know I would never do anything to help drug dealers, don’t you? Never.”

      “I know,” Polaski said simply.

      But did he know? Did any of them? Sure, they’d all spoken words of support, but were they all looking at him with the same suspicion they did a suspect in custody? Unlike in the court system where defendants were considered innocent until proven guilty, guilt was never ruled out until suspects were cleared.

      “With my dad...” he began but let his words trail away. His family’s story of addiction and tragedy was hardly news to those who’d been around the post for a while. Drugs had stolen too much from his life for him to ever see them in any way other than black-and-white.

      “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that part.” Polaski frowned. “I didn’t pick up on where the reporter was headed with her questions quickly enough. She was determined to get those juicy details out there no matter what I said.”

      “I know. It’s okay.”

      “But the other...” He touched the file again. “You understand that we’ll have to cooperate fully in this investigation, right?”

      “Of course. I wouldn’t expect any less.”

      “With as much scrutiny as police departments have been under lately, we can’t afford to allow any suspicion that we’re showing favoritism. We have to conduct this investigation completely by the book.”

      Something about the way Polaski said it made Ben shift in his seat. “You’re not saying that you’re putting me on a desk job, are you? Because, uh, I already have one of those.”

      Instead of picking up on his attempt to lighten the mood, the commander shook his head. “No. But I am going to have to put you on paid administrative leave.”

      “Leave?”

      “I need you to stay away from the post while state investigators are digging around here.”

      “But, Captain, you can’t do that.” Ben’s eyes widened just as his boss’s narrowed. “I mean if you do this, I won’t have any way to prove my innocence. Someone has set me up, and I need to figure out who. I won’t have any access to LEIN or any of the databases to investigate.”

      “I don’t want you anywhere near LEIN or anything else in this investigation.” He shook his index finger at him, losing patience. “Stay out of it. Let the system work.”

      Ben nodded, his acceptance settling heavily inside of him. He’d said the same thing to suspects who’d claimed to be innocent. Only now could he truly understand their skepticism. The system didn’t always work. Not for everyone. With the possibility of serious charges hanging over his head, could Ben afford to trust the system with his freedom?

      “Yes, sir.” He pushed forward in his seat, intending to stand.

      “Relax, Peterson.” Polaski stood first. “Think of it as a vacation. Do some things around that project house of yours.”

      “I’ll try” was all he could manage.

      “And we’ll take care of the rest.”

      It was the commander’s way of saying they would look for the truth, no matter what it was. He wouldn’t promise any more than that, and Ben would never expect him to. A fierce commitment to justice was something the two of them shared.

      “Thank you, sir.”

      Pulling open the door, he started down the hall. At least no one was still in the squad room as he made the walk of shame to the locker room and then to the parking lot. Even Delia was finally gone, which was probably good. He wasn’t prepared to see her right now, especially not with accusation in her eyes.

      He scanned the half-filled water bottles and coffee-shop cups spaced around the room, suggesting that the others had left in a hurry. As much as he appreciated his fellow officers giving him space, the empty room made him feel abandoned. He was so used to being able to count on his Brighton Post family. And now that he was in trouble and could use a little help from his friends, he no longer knew who his real friends were. He cared about these people, would lay down his life for them, but he couldn’t escape the truth that one of them had targeted him.

      Yesterday, he was surrounded by friends. Part of the only real family he’d had in years. Today he’d never felt more alone.

CHAPTER FIVE

      “WHAT ARE YOU doing here?”

      Delia tried not to bristle at the way he asked the question. She couldn’t blame him for wondering, though. Not when she was asking herself the same question as Ben Peterson stared out at her through the narrow opening of his front door. Make that frowned out at her, squinting behind his glasses.

      Okay, it was too early in the morning by ordinary standards for her to show up on anyone’s doorstep, especially his. An address she wouldn’t have known without snooping in personnel records. But it didn’t seem too early to be there when she’d been up all night repeating the reasons she should steer clear of Ben. And the logical case for keeping her nose out of his current situation altogether. She’d lost the arguments around sunrise and hadn’t been able to wait another minute to do something she would regret.

      Ben clearly wasn’t happy to see her. His hair stood at odd angles, at least to the degree possible with a cut so short. Blue flannel pajama bottoms showed beneath his navy bathrobe, and a pair of what had to be freezing bare feet peeked out from those. She definitely did not notice that he was bare-chested beneath that cinched bathrobe or wonder if that tiny tuft of chest hair at the opening was as soft as it looked. And she absolutely wasn’t imagining how he would look if that belt magically untied and how it would feel to press herself against all of that skin.

      Delia blinked. Despite the chill, her cheeks burned. She’d never had thoughts like that, and starting to have them now would be a worse idea than even coming here was. So she pushed the images away, refusing to acknowledge the warmth that had spread from her face to her neck and downward.

      “Hello, Lieutenant,” she managed and then dampened her suddenly