Splintered Read Online Free PDF

before the officer responded. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to be asking. I’m not the lead investigator. That would be Detective Blanchfield. I can transfer your call to his office.”
    “No, it’s you I’d like to talk to,” Hutch informed him. “I got the distinct feeling that, given the type of victims we’re dealing with, there are a few in your precinct who don’t really care about solving this case.”
    Again there was a long pause before Struk responded. This time when he did, his voice was lower, as if he might have been trying to speak without being heard. “Okay. I don’t know how much I can help you, but….” There was a rustling sound, like Struk had covered the phone, before Hutch heard his muffled voice say, “Be right there.” Struk then returned his attention back to Hutch. “I can’t talk right now. How about we meet after my shift? Say, eleven thirty?”
    “Where?”
    “Apollo’s on Broad Street.”
    “I’ll be there,” Hutch assured him and ended the call.
    “Be where?” Granite asked with his brows raised.
    “I’m going to meet Struk at Apollo’s.” Hutch tilted his head and looked at his partner. “I have a feeling I’m going to learn a lot more from Sergeant Struk than we did from the rest of his fellow officers combined.”
    “You want me to come with?” Granite offered.
    “Nah, wouldn’t want to take you away from all your fun.” He smirked with a nod toward the mess around Granite.
    “Oh yeah, geo shit gets me hard as a rock,” Granite responded and grabbed his crotch.
    “You have some serious issues, my man,” Hutch chided and threw the file on the bed. “I’m going to go get a shower.”
     
     
    S TRUK LOOKED tense and nervous when Hutch slid into the booth across from him. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me,” Hutch said by way of greeting.
    “I wouldn’t thank me yet. I’m not sure how much help I can be to you.”
    “We’ll see about that.” Hutch waved over the waitress. He ordered a cup of coffee and a glass of water, then turned his attentions to Struk. “As I mentioned on the phone, I got the feeling that a couple dead faggots wasn’t high on the force’s list of priorities.”
    Once again, Struk flinched at the use of the derogatory remark, and his brow dipped slightly. “Most of the guys can…. Look, I know how it sounded, all the macho bullshit, but they’re good cops for the most part,” he muttered and picked at his napkin.
    Hutch thanked the waitress as she set down his drinks and then reached for his coffee, blowing into it before taking a tentative sip. “And do you share their sentiments about homosexuals?” Hutch asked over the rim of his mug and then took another sip.
    “Hell no,” Struk balked, sounding offended. “I don’t care how people swing. I treat everyone the same and give each and every case, no matter who is involved, one hundred percent.”
    “And how do you swing?”
    Struk’s eyes narrowed, his face turning red. “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” he snapped.
    “Oh simmer down,” Hutch said coolly and leaned back in the booth, taking his mug with him. “It was simply a question, not an accusation. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know homophobia runs rampant among law enforcement, and I’m just trying to figure out if my instincts about you are accurate.”
    Struk’s frown deepened, and he visibly stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he muttered suspiciously.
    “That regardless of who the lead investigator is, you’re the one who will be most cooperative in helping me catch who killed Akira Kimura,” Hutch informed him confidently.
    “This isn’t my case. I can lose my job for ignoring the chain of command and butting my nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
    Hutch could tell by the way Struk was bouncing his knee and his avoidance of Hutch’s gaze that the subject was bothering him. Struk might be uncomfortable with the idea, but the fact that