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Chapter Two

Detective Theo Barnes lit a smoke, a rare allowance to tamp down the adrenaline. His brain buzzed as the nicotine hit all the right spots while watching a squad car containing Andrews drive away. He texted his wife, reminding her today would run long. A few cases ago he’d forgotten and caught hell for missing dinner. Rayna was sexy when she was angry, but it wasn’t worth missing sleep to stay up arguing.

Once he hit the filter, he’d oversee the bag and tag efforts at the scene and head to the Charlottesville county jail for the interrogation. Raids of Andrews’ home and Senate office were executed simultaneously. The limitations of being in one place at a time drove him nuts. He inherently trusted his team of Virginia State Troopers. Just not as much as himself.

He had always been this way. Those aware of his origins don’t blame him. His unyielding dedication compounded as he aged, particularly in the four years since he’d taken over the Internet Sex Crimes Division. Convictions hang on the smallest detail. Considering how far he’d stuck his neck out, he’d be hip deep in every aspect of the investigation until prison doors slammed shut on Senator Andrews.

“You ever think about the irony of a sex crimes investigator who needs a cigarette after every bust?” said the blonde as she approached. Among many contributions, Shannon Williamson served as Barnes’ lure for the stings.

“Funny. Here I was concerned about Rayna raking me over the coals and you gotta toss in some Freudian shit to boot.” Defiantly, Barnes took one last deep drag and flicked the butt into the motel parking lot.

Barnes knew he’d hit the jackpot having her on the squad. A rising star at the FBI out of college, promoted early and often, she’d made it as a profiler. Then came her father’s stroke. Her mom passed on when she was in elementary school. With no caregiver, she came home to Charlottesville, signing on with the Troopers once he’d recovered.

“Deep psychological analysis of your soul is why you pay me so large.” She glanced up at him. “No matter how many times we do this, I’m always surprised at how much they cry. Between you and me, it’s my favorite part with these scumbags.”

“He thought you were fourteen and he got me instead. Your pigtails in those pictures sold it. Sorry you’re always the worm on the hook for these, but, well—” He shrugged.

“I’m thirty-five but look like jailbait. I don’t mind. I like the field action. But you’ll need to recruit a new carrot for these sickos. I won’t fit what they’re looking for much longer.”

Her hand rested on her stomach as she exaggerated a baby bump.

“Really? That’s great! You and Rick must be over the moon.”

“It’s a seesaw between thrilled and freaking out. Need you to keep me

level since you’re the parenting expert. I do wonder about the world I’m bringing the kid into.”

“One with another predator off the street. And as far as parenting goes, Rayna does the heavy lifting with the boys. I come off the bench to give her a breather. When are you due?”

“Thanksgiving. You’ve got me six more months, but don’t go giving my job away. I’m coming back.”

“Don’t know what I’d do without you anyways. Let’s make sure everything is tight as a drum. I can’t wait to sit across the table from this asshole.”

doesn’t allow time for anyone else’s agenda. I’m not about to change.”

“Fine,” passing on a losing battle. “What’s our next move? I only heard Holland’s side. You solid on what we did today?”

“Andrews is a pervert. We’ve got enough, but tonight’s a paper night. Prescott’s coming and we make sure it’s watertight.”

Shannon frowned and rubbed her temples. “Holland wants to show everyone he’s got his thumb on us. I don’t care that he takes credit sometimes, but this is taking away from the real work. Damn him.”

A sly smile materialized. “Now who needs to play nice?”

“Shut up. I’m not the one with four reprimands for insubordination. You think Andrews will spill? It’s a long time since you didn’t get the confession right away.”

“It’s not insubordination when I’m right. Andrews dropped a few names, but I think they’re bullshit. He’d stick his hand in a pit of rattlesnakes to draw a get out of jail free card.” He paused. “A night or two in a cell will do it.”

But Barnes didn’t believe that. Three cigarettes and creeping concerns consumed his trip to the Barracks. He couldn’t shake the idea there was something rotten about this case, and not just around the edges. Andrews’ arrogance held court in his mind. What’s up your sleeve, you sick son of a bitch? What do you know about what’s coming my way I don’t?

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A policy expert and political operative for some of Washington’s most influential power brokers, Matthew Lavoie has spent his career evaluating the how and why of American political and cultural movements and observing some of the biggest shifts in American and geopolitical history. MAIN STREET FRINGE is his debut novel. He is a member of International Thriller Writers and Mystery Writers of America.

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