BLUE BLOOD RUNS COLD (A Michael Ross Novel Book 1) by M.A Wallace

Mountain Dew out of a straw. He burped, then patted his stomach. He said, “Now I know why I gave up on soda. So okay, the police chief here, man by the name of Theodore Kenny, was very helpful and forthcoming. He told me a lot about Mr. Bailey. Apparently he'd had several reprimands in his record for excessive use of his force. One such incident happened when he'd been asked to unlock a student's car. The student didn't have a parking decal on his car. It must have been a bad day for Bailey, because he smashed the car's window in with his fist. Had to have stitches after. He was placed on a fifteen-day administrative leave while the university paid for the repair costs to the vehicle. Chief Metzger also said that before coming to work here, Bailey had resigned from the Hampden Police Department, apparently some kind of excessive force there, too. The guy was a loose cannon. Every now and then he would just go off.”
                  “Did the chief say anything about anyone who might have had a vendetta against Bailey?”
                  “Yeah, I did ask that. The chief said anyone and everyone hates cops these days. You see a cop in Ferguson or Baltimore or New York shooting a guy in the back, kicking a woman in the face, beating up an old lady, maybe it's easy to think that all cops are bad. They don't count on guys like us, ground-pounders going out there every day trying to do our best. I mean, what's the world coming to anymore when the people who are supposed to inspire trust instead inspire suspicion and fear?”
                  Billy held up a hand. Then he continued, “Okay, okay, I know. You don't have to tell me. I know that look on your face. Stop beating around the bush. All right, just the facts. The facts are these. Officer Bailey kept a list of names in a notebook. There's no title to it, just a long list of names. The chief says it was found this morning when Bailey's locker was being cleaned out. You want to take a guess whose name was on it?”
                  Michael didn't have to guess. He said, “Shannon Moore.”
                  “Bingo. What happened between Bailey and Moore was a revenge thing for Bailey. What caused him to have a grudge, I don't know. Only it seems that one existed, and that's why he assaulted her yesterday.”
                  “So there may have been a history of personal animosity between those two, right? And maybe yesterday was the culmination of something that had been building up for a while.”
                  “That’s what I was thinking, too. But we can't prove any of it, not with a notebook alone. All we've got is a supposition.”
                  He then remembered why his partner had gone out to the police station in the first place. He said, “Did the chief tell you anything about why Bailey was out there so late at night?”
                  “Nada, he's in the dark as much as anyone. Bailey wasn't on the duty roster until next Monday. He had no reason to be on campus, much less in uniform with all his gear.”
                  “So what we're saying is, a cop on campus took it into his head to get some extra overtime duty without being paid for it. For what purpose, only he knew. Do they have a sign-out log for each piece of equipment? Sign out your gun, your flashlight, your spray can, your belt, that sort of thing?”
                  Billy sighed. “I asked that, too. First thing that came into my head. No, they don't have a sign-out system. They've never had a problem with theft, or property going missing. Never.”
                  Michael laid back in his seat, thinking. He said, “You know, when I first got into the force—this was a few months after leaving the service—my instructor gave a welcoming speech to the class. He said some of us are born to be officers, some of us look at it as just as job. A