Anti-Hero | Tim Bradford

Chapter Twenty Seven - Playing

The cell was everything Morgan had expected.

The small six by eight foot cell was kept in meticulous condition. The bed was made without a crease in the cheap prison linen, a singular spare uniform folded precisely at the foot of the bed, and a small stack of books tucked onto the far corner of the tiny desk.

It was exactly what Morgan had expected from a woman like Rosalind Dyer. She craved control. She was trying to take control of Morgan's life, almost as if she was a puppet master pulling every single string.

Rosalind Dyer needed control, and Morgan was not one to be controlled.

Rosalind did well to mostly cover the fleeting shock on her face when Morgan entered the cell before making a quick and smooth recovery. "Hello Detective Bradford, what a nice surprise."

"Let's skip the formality Dyer." Morgan said, keeping her tone cool.

"If you insist." Rosalind gestured for Morgan to sit down next to her on the bed, smiling as the detective refused. "What brings you to my neck of the woods then? I don't suppose it's a social call?"

"Even if I wanted to, you're not the type to have friends... or to be able to keep them anyways."

"Snarky. I like that; but it won't get you very far. So I'll ask again, Detective. Why are you here? Because I'm quite sure that pretty husband of yours wouldn't approve."

"What he doesn't know..." Morgan let her words drift off as she walked into the room, peering around, trying to find any form of imperfection. A crack in Rosalind's armour. "I've come to ask you something."

Rosalind nodded. "Ask away. Although you may not like the answer."

It was Morgan's turn to smile as she could see Rosalind starting her infamous mind games. "Why me?"

"I'm not sure I'm following. Care to elaborate some?"

"Why me," Bradford repeated. "Out of anyone in the department, in the LAPD as a whole, and you pick me. I just don't get it."

"Don't put yourself down so much. You should think much more highly of yourself. Why wouldn't I pick you? You're clever, cunning even. And you would be good to ruin."

Morgan chuckled at this although she didn't find humour in the given answer at all. The two of them both knew that they had to keep a cool and calm facade, and her small laugh caused Rosalind's to falter.

"What's so funny, detective?"

"Nothing," Morgan continued to chuckle, although her laughs had begun to soften as her words grew more taunting. "I just thought that you would have something to gain. I mean you're the great Rosalind Dyer. You had the nation fearful for their lives, and yet the most you can do is fail to spook me. Even worse, your motivation is because I'm 'special.'  thought you would be cleverer than that."

"And who said I don't scare you?" Dyer snapped, rising from the bed, leaving behind creases from where she had sat. "I could just be having you on, playing the long game."

"What is the long game for you?"

"Freedom."

Morgan snorted this time. "Unlikely. If there was something you wanted from me, you would've made a play by now. I may not know you, but I know your type Rosalind."

Rosalind's eyes darted away as she listened to Morgan's words before they focused back on the Detective. "If you know my type," Rosalind said, moving forward, causing Morgan to take a step back, "then you would know I don't lose. Now I suppose it's time you take your leave, don't you?"

Morgan nodded, as she turned towards the cell door. "Have a good day, and thank you for our chat, it's been very...insightful."

———-

Fishing the small phone out of her pocket, Morgan quickly dialled Grey's number as she walked through the parking lot towards the nearest bus stop. She listened as the phone rang and went to voicemail.

"Grey," she said after the tone went, "it's Bradford. Call me. I've got a lead."

Pressing the end call button, Morgan continued to walk until she heard a whistle from behind her. Spinning on her heel, she was greeted by Nyla, leaning on her car.

"What are you doing here?" Morgan said, approaching the woman.

"I would ask you the same thing, but I already know. Get in." Harper snapped, moving round to the driver's side of the car. Morgan followed, slipping into the vehicle.

"Here, take my phone. Call Tim. He's going out of his mind." Harper pulled out of the car park. "He had half the department at your house earlier. Thankfully, I was one step ahead and covered for your ass. The last time I do so though."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me; call your husband before I rat on you."

Morgan just hummed as she dialed the familiar number and lifted the phone to her ear.

——

"Okay, Mogs, I love you too. Bye, bye." Tim hung up the phone, sliding it back into his trouser pocket as he walked towards Grey's office. Knocking, he entered as the Watch Commander beckoned him in.

"Harper was right, I presume." Grey said, looking up from his computer.

"Yeah, she was. Just got off the phone with Morgan. They'll be back by midday." Tim let his words drift off, the silent worry hung heavily in the air.

Grey looked at Tim with knowing eyes, holding back any form of sympathy. Officer Bradford had never appreciated it before, and he wouldn't start now. But Grey could only imagine how he was feeling. The Watch Commander knew all too well what it felt like to be shut out of Morgan's inner workings, the detective was far too independent and it would be her downfall.

"What's bothering you? Is it the trip this morning?"

"Yes-no. Maybe" Tim stuttered, taking a seat in front of the desk as Grey gestured for him to do. "It's just that we promised no more secrets and I wake up and she's gone. And it's like nothing changed. She doesn't trust me."

"Yes she does. You know she does." Grey reassured, spinning slightly in his chair. "Morgan is still on high alert. And you know her best, Tim. Put yourself in her shoes. If someone like Dyer was on the warpath for you, and Morgan was in the line of fire..."

"I would make sure she wasn't involved. Keep her away."

Grey shrugged as his point set in. "Look, I'm not saying that she was right. But she had Harper there. She wasn't alone. Besides, if she had told you, or me for that matter, what would've happened?"

"I would've stopped her. Or at least gone with her."

"Exactly. Don't be too hard on her. That's my job. She broke so many protocols, she'll be doing paperwork for today into retirement."

Tim chuckled at the thought. Thanking the Sargent, he stood and made his way out of the office and towards his boot who was waiting expectedly for him.