Chapter 77 Controlled Environment
Rowan
The police station smells like burnt coffee and disinfectant.
Too bright. Too sterile. Too rehearsed.
The moment we step through the front doors, every pair of eyes shifts. Uniforms. Plainclothes. Dispatch behind glass. They pretend they’re not staring, but they are.
Violet walks beside me.
Not behind. Not ahead.
Beside.
Her shoulders are straight. Chin level. That same controlled composure she wears like armor. But I can feel it in the way her hand brushes mine for half a second before pulling away.
She’s bracing.
Good.
She should be.
The detective at the front desk doesn’t bother hiding his expression. Mid-forties. Buzz cut. Jaw tight.
He looks like he’s already decided he doesn’t like me.
“Internal Affairs asked us to stop by,” Devin says smoothly before I can speak.
The detective’s lip twitches. “Yeah. We’re aware.”
Of course they are.
He comes around the desk and gestures toward the back. “Follow me.”
We move down a narrow hallway. Fluorescent lights hum overhead. Doors line both sides, some cracked open just enough to show desks cluttered with files.
We pass the standard interrogation rooms.
Then he veers left.
Different corridor. Quieter.
He opens a door and gestures inside.
They tried.
Cream paint instead of gray. A slightly nicer table. Two framed prints on the wall of some generic landscape.
But the mirror on one side of the room gives it away.
Two-way glass.
Still an interrogation room.
Internal Affairs is already there.
The female investigator steps forward first. Early forties. Dark hair pulled into a low bun. Neutral expression.
“Ms. Pierce,” she says calmly. “We’d like to speak with you.”
Violet nods.
“I’ll go with her,” Camille says immediately.
The female investigator glances at her. “You can accompany her, yes.”
Good.
The male investigator gestures toward the table. “Mr. Ashcroft. Counsel.”
Devin gives me a small nod and we sit.
The door closes.
Not locked.
But it doesn’t need to be.
The male investigator takes his seat across from us and, unexpectedly, leans back.
“So,” he says lightly. “Before we start. You’ve been in this city longer than I have. Best place for coffee?”
Devin blinks.
I don’t.
He continues casually. “I’ve been trying to find something decent that doesn’t taste like it was filtered through regret.”
Devin lets out a short, polite laugh. “There’s a place on Fifth. Black Door Café.”
The investigator nods thoughtfully. “I’ll have to try that. What about food? Anything worth the cholesterol?”
He’s probing.
Testing.
Measuring tone.
I don’t answer.
I stare at the door Violet walked through.
The investigator notices.
“You alright?” he asks mildly.
I turn my head slowly to look at him.
“I don’t feel comfortable being separated from her,” I say evenly. “Considering what’s happened with Detective Calder.”
His expression shifts. Just slightly.
He nods once. “Fair.”
He stands.
Walks to the mirrored wall.
Presses a small concealed switch near the frame.
The glass flickers.
Then becomes transparent.
The other room comes into view.
Violet sits at a similar table.
Camille is beside her, animated, already talking.
The female investigator is leaning forward slightly, listening.
Violet looks tense.
Withdrawn.
Her hands are folded too tightly in front of her.
Camille, meanwhile, is filling the silence with words.
I watch the female investigator’s posture.
She’s relaxed.
Engaged.
She’s letting Camille talk.
Letting Violet observe.
“Your girlfriend’s friend is… helpful,” the investigator beside me comments quietly.
“She’s protective,” I reply.
“She’s also talking,” he says.
“Yes.”
He studies me. “And that bothers you?”
“No,” I say calmly. “It means Violet doesn’t have to.”
He nods once, like he appreciates the answer.
The female investigator in the other room asks something.
I can’t hear it.
Violet responds.
Her mouth moves slowly. Controlled. Deliberate.
I know that look.
She’s choosing every word.
“She looks scared,” the investigator says.
“She looks cautious,” I correct.
He glances at me again. “You’re very… attentive.”
I don’t look away from the glass. “I don’t miss details.”
“That’s obvious.”
He returns to his chair and sits down.
“Let’s talk about Calder,” he says finally, tone shifting.
No more coffee chatter.
I turn fully toward him.
“Yes,” I say.
“Detective Calder’s employment history doesn’t match his personnel file here,” he begins. “We’ve confirmed he used his wife’s maiden name when transferring departments. That should not have cleared.”
“No,” I agree.
He studies me carefully. “You were aware of his prior termination.”
“Recently,” I say.
“How?”
Devin answers smoothly. “We conducted a background review after Detective Calder’s repeated inappropriate contact with Ms. Pierce.”
The investigator nods. “And you uncovered his prior use of excessive force. Including a fatal incident involving a confidential informant.”
“Yes.”
He watches my face as he says it.
I don’t blink.
“We’ve reviewed that footage,” he continues. “It’s… troubling.”
That’s one word for it.
“Calder has been officially suspended pending criminal investigation,” he adds. “But we need to establish the extent of his actions here.”
“And you’re hoping Violet can provide that?” I say.
“Yes.”
My jaw tightens.
He notices.
“She’s not a suspect,” he says firmly. “She’s a witness.”
“I’m aware of the difference,” I reply.
He leans forward slightly. “Then you understand why we need her cooperation.”
“I understand procedure,” I say. “I don’t understand why she was cornered in a bathroom without backup.”
He doesn’t defend it.
That’s smart.
“Inappropriate,” he says simply. “And documented.”
My eyes flick back to the glass.
Violet shifts in her chair.
Camille reaches over and touches her arm.
The female investigator says something softer now.
“She’s handling it,” the man across from me says.
“Yes,” I reply.
“She’s stronger than she looks.”
I almost smile.
“She’s stronger than most people in this building.”
He studies me for a long moment.
“You care about her.”
It’s not a question.
Devin stiffens beside me.
I don’t react.
“She’s my employee,” I say evenly.
He tilts his head slightly. “That’s not what I meant.”
I meet his eyes.
“And yet,” I say, “it’s the only answer you’re getting.”
He exhales through his nose.
“Fair enough.”
I sit back, one ankle over the opposite knee. Relaxed posture. Controlled breathing.
“Describe your first interaction with Detective Calder,” he says.
“Public lobby,” I answer immediately. “He requested a private conversation with Ms. Pierce. She declined.”
“With you present?”
“No.”
He scribbles something down. “When did you first suspect Calder of misconduct?”
“After he inserted himself repeatedly into Ms. Pierce’s personal affairs.”
“That’s vague.”
“It’s accurate.”
He doesn’t smile.
“Specific instance,” he presses.
I can already tell that this was going to be a long day. I wonder how Violet is holding up.