CHAPTER 15
MY NEXT STOP was the coffee place next to the police station in Richmond. Blackwood employees tended to have a love-hate relationship with the local cops. If we believed we were on the same side, we’d go all out to support them, but there were also occasions when our interests didn’t align, and our tendency to ride rough-shod over their procedures had ruffled more than a few feathers.
I checked my watch. Officer Tenlow was running late. I ordered his usual—a cappuccino and a granola square, his pretence at being healthy—then snagged a table in the back corner, out of sight of curious eyes.
Tenlow, who his buddies at training college had immediately nicknamed Highfive, was one of the few members of local law enforcement I hadn’t managed to piss off at some point or another. I’
