Page 52 of Cross the Line
The bullpen stretched before us. Twice the size of 51's. Sleek workstations and state-of-the-art equipment. I led Hawley through the maze of desks with practiced confidence. My attention never stopped moving. Cataloging exits. Tracking the movement of former colleagues. Noting which faces hardened at the sight of me.
"Carlson," someone called out. Voice dripping with false warmth. "Back to grace us with your presence?"
I turned. Brightened my expression. "Detective Lyle. Still working the same desk? Some things never change."
His mouth tightened as others snickered. Small victory. Hollow satisfaction.
We continued walking. The file from Inspector Murphy clutched perhaps too tightly in my hand. Dozens of stares bored into my back. Whispers followed in our wake.
"That's him?"
"Can't believe he has the nerve to show his face here."
"Wonder how many more informants he'll get killed this time."
Hawley's jaw clenched. He remained silent. A looming presence that somehow made breathing easier. I'd nearly made it to the Drug Squad office when Detective Marsh stepped directly into our path. Her shoulder connecting with mine in a collision too deliberate to be accidental.
"Traitor," she hissed, just loud enough for those nearby to hear.
I didn't break stride. Didn't let my composure falter. "Always a pleasure, Marsh."
My knuckles whitened around the folder. The only outward sign that her words had landed. I'd expected this. Prepared for it, even. But anticipating the blow didn't make it hurt any less.
What I hadn't expected was Hawley's reaction. He shifted almost imperceptibly. His broad frame positioning itself slightly between me and the rest of the room. Not obvious enough to seem protective. Hawley was too skilled for that. But his presence settled at my back like solid weight.
The movement didn't go unnoticed. Several officers exchanged glances. Reassessing the dynamic. I'd returned with backup, it seemed. Not just any backup, but the kind that stood six-foot-something and could bench press a car.
"Your new partner?" Marsh asked. Contempt clear as she sized him up. "What happened, Carlson? They couldn't find anyone willing to work with you?"
Before I could respond, Hawley stepped forward. Neutral but somehow more intimidating for it.
"Detective Hawley. 51 Division Violent Crimes." He didn't offer his hand. Just stared down at her with those dark, unblinking eyes. "We have an appointment with Detective Sergeant Voss."
Marsh held his stare for a moment before looking away. "Down the hall. Last door on the right."
Something unexpected surged through me as we continued walking. Not quite pride. Not quite gratitude. A warmth that settled in my chest. Hawley hadn't raised his voice or made a scene. He'd simply... been there. Solid. Present. The Bear of 51, standing guard without being asked.
"Thanks." The word came out quieter than intended as we approached Voss's office.
Hawley glanced down at me. One eyebrow slightly raised. "For what? I just want to get this over with and go back to real police work."
But there was understanding in his expression that told me he knew exactly what I was thanking him for.
Detective Sergeant Voss emerged from his office just as we reached the door. His tailored suit hung perfectly from broad shoulders. His face hardened instantly when he spotted me.
"Well, if it isn't Toronto's prettiest snitch," he drawled, loud enough for the entire floor to hear. "Didn't expect to see you dare come here again."
I forced my mouth to stay curved. Though it felt brittle enough to crack. "Good to see you too, Voss. How's that promotion treating you? Still pretending to solve cases while others do the actual work?"
His mouth thinned. A nerve, hit.
"This is Detective Hawley." I continued smoothly. Gestured to the mountain of silence beside me. "My new partner."
Voss's focus flicked to Hawley, then back to me. His lips curling. "51, huh? Quite the fall from grace. Trading designer suits for piss-stained alleyways."
"At least in those alleyways, we catch actual criminals. Not just whoever looks good in a press release."
I fought the urge to beam. The Bear had claws today.
