Ford
IT TAKES THREE AGONISING DAYS.
No matter at how much I preach at Genevieve for patience being a virtue, mine has distinctly become extinct in the time it takes waiting for the doctors to wake Detective Barrera up. But I have to wait before he's been brief by his superiors and his wife has spent enough time with him. I called him earlier and he proposed meeting later in the evening, which meant I had to rearrange my boxing training to accommodate him. He agreed to meet with the other five guys too.
Genevieve's been working on patching up her injured relationship with her parents so we haven't had the chance to spend a lot of time together these past few days. But tonight, she's staying at the house again and she'll meet me there as soon as we're finished at the hospital. According to her, her parents are gradually accepting her decision to be with me, and even going as far as to vaguely provision dinner with everyone, no matter how stressful that situation screams to be.
She also told me of what her dad said, not quite denying there's no dirt on him in the study. It all but solidifies that those photocopies have some sort of significance behind them, and if I'd have to wager on it—I've kept this private from Genevieve for good reason—he knows without a shadow of a doubt that she discovered them taped to the underside of his desk.
It begs the question why he hasn't called her out on it.
Jeremiah nods his head at Detective Barrera's private room, having glanced through the window. "He's calling us in," he announces.
Jax steps in line with me as the other three follow, Jeremiah leading the pack. As soon as we enter, Detective Barrera watches us all as we assemble around his bed, Jeremiah and Clark closest to his head while Harris reluctantly stands next to me near his feet.
He looks like shit, frankly. His face is bruised and some of the cuts will undoubtedly leave him scarred permanently, but luckily, they're small. He can't shift his body too much, given the broken bones, but he's sitting up enough, and he reaches for the small cup of water on his tray. He winces before placing the cup back down, and I realize staggeringly that this is the most vulnerable I've seen him.
In all the years I've known him, he's always been a hard ass. This contrast is devastating.
I clear my throat. "How are you feeling, Detective?"
Detective Barrera sighs. "Alive. That's the main thing." He glances at the door. "I've asked the nurses to give us some privacy for a little while. What do you want to know, boys?"
Jeremiah's first to speak. "Who's in charge of the investigation now?"
"His name is Detective Needham. He's Red Alert. He knows everything we do." Detective Barrera shares a pointed look with me as if to say you better be keeping your end of the bargain. I nod almost imperceptibly, but he registers the acknowledgement. "He's got my notes of investigating Red Alert members back when Carson was eighteen. I've asked him to gather my notes and forward them to you, Ford. He's got a few final leads to check out on that front, but as soon as he's done—I believe we've gathered enough information—you'll have a copy of it."
"Carson's behind this, isn't he?"
"Looked like another car he'd stolen because it wasn't his Ford Expedition, but yes, it was him."
Detective Barrera goes through a few other things for us, namely the contact information for Detective Needham as none of us have him as a contact. He's already liaised with him regarding frequent communication with us for the investigation, and Detective Needham has no qualms about involving us at any point.
