Marked for Love

by Hannah West

  Marked For Love

  Hannah West

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Hi Reader!

  Copyright © 2019

  Marked for Love

  By Hannah West

  I miss you, Dad.

  All rights reserved.

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter One

  “How long ago was the call?” Noelle asked as she got into the car.

  “Fifteen minutes,” Riley replied grimly, sliding into the passenger side. His blue eyes were tired, Noelle noted as she entered the address into their GPS. “Still need directions?” The tiredness had faded, replaced with teasing.

  “Not all of us have the memory of an elephant,” Noelle said primly, although she was grinning.

  “Or Elsy,” Riley said with a sigh.

  Noelle snorted. She half-turned to see out the back of the police cruiser, her attention wandering from the case they had just been assigned. She had met Elsy before; she was quite a firecracker. “She doesn’t let you forget anything?”

  “Nothing,” Riley confirmed, flipping through messages on his phone. “Still love her, though.” Noelle could feel the smile curving his lips, rather than seeing it. “She is my other half, after all.” Instinctually Riley’s hand went to the mark on his wrist, ghosting over it before going back to scrolling through his phone.

  Noelle thought of the mark on her wrist, what it meant, what significance it held. Someday. Someday she would meet her other half, her perfect match. Her soul mate. Unconsciously she touched it, feeling the smooth skin under her fingertips. There was no blemish, no indication of what was there.

  “Soon,” Riley said, his voice kind. He did have the uncanny ability to read her thoughts. “You’re only twenty-nine.”

  “You were twenty,” she shot back, turning on her blinker and making a right turn.

  “They may not be eighteen yet.” Riley frowned at his phone’s screen. “They found the partner down the street, covered in blood. Might be an open and shut case for us.”

  “We still need to gather the evidence and assess the scene with fresh eyes,” Noelle said automatically. She had been working with Riley in the homicide department for the better part of four years now, and for all he could be stubborn, she respected and looked up to him. Even when he was being an idiot.

  “And sometimes I think you never listen,” he said cheerfully.

  “Sometimes you’re full of hot air,” Noelle retorted. It was easy enough to spot the crime scene; the flashing lights and bright-yellow police tape gave it away, even with the sun most of the way down. Nodding to one of the other officers as she got out of the car, she went to her trunk and made sure she had a notebook, pen, and gloves, just in case.

  “Do your thing,” Riley told her, a faint smile on his face. Sometimes homicide detectives had to work on their own, so Riley would test her by having her run crime scenes as if she was in charge and he was merely a consultant. Although she carried her own case load, she still often ran cases and decisions by the older detectives in their department. Homicide was a big deal, after all.

  “Yes, sir,” she said with a grin, proceeding to school her face into the neutral, somber expression that she still struggled at maintaining at crime scenes. Walking up to the door of the small, one-story house, she offered the crime scene tech a businesslike nod.

  “Long time no see,” Loryn said, not smiling back, although there was something warm in her eyes. In the four years that Noelle had known her, Loryn had never smiled. Some of the older officers whispered that she had forgotten how to after her soulmate had died of cancer.

  “I know,” Noelle said, signing the logbook when it was offered. They had worked on a case just last week. “Fill me in?” she asked, pulling on gloves.

  “Deceased female, early 20s, three stab wounds to the chest,” Loryn said brusquely, leading Noelle and Riley inside. “Male partner was found a block away, covered in blood spatter. He’s in the cruiser out front, ready to be taken back for questioning and processing.”

  Noelle bit back the faint prickle of tears as the body came into view. The woman was young, too skinny and covered in bruises. There was the fading yellow-green of old bruises, alongside the dark purple-blue of new. The bruises that weren’t hidden by blood, anyway. Spatter covered the walls and cupboards of the kitchen. Noelle swallowed; she had seen crime scenes many times before, but those that were from domestic violence always seemed to be the worst.

  “Good. Has the coroner okayed the body?” she asked Loryn, stepping closer to the body slumped against the bloodstained cupboard.

  “Yes. Scanned her mark and is running it through the registry,” Loryn answered.

  “They didn’t match?” Noelle asked sharply, surprised. Non-soulmate pairs were rare, particularly in modern times when technology made it so much easier to match up with your perfect match. Noelle had come from an upper middle-class family, and dating or marrying someone who wasn’t your designated soulmate just Wasn’t Done.

  “Not according to reports from the responding officer,” Loryn said grimly.

  Noelle frowned, thoughtful, and turned to watch the techs. She glanced at Riley, glad to receive a reassuring nod. “We’ll want to run both marks through the database,” Noelle said, casting around for someone who could help.

  “I’ll scan the partner’s,” one of the patrol officers said.

  “Riley, you assist,” Noelle said. If the suspect was still local, it would always be best to have assistance, and it was possible Riley could gather some evidence against the suspect while doing the routine eval. She waited for his nod before giving orders to the rest of the scene techs. She would stay to supervise evidence collection, but the orders were given and the bulk of the work already done.

  “The coroner can have the body now,” the crime scene photographer said, putting aside her camera for the moment.

  “I’ll get him,” Loryn said, peeling off her gloves and leaving the room. Noelle moved closer to the body, studying the way it had fallen, the spatter surrounding it. Although they had techs who specialized in interpreting that sort of evidence, she had always felt it was best to know the basics herself.

  She bent down, peering at the upturned wrist. Half the Mark was covered in blood, likely from where she had tried to grab the knife when her partner had stabbed her, slicing the skin of her palm. A chill went down Noelle’s spine. Some unlucky person was going to wake up tomorrow with a message telling them that their other half was dead, that they would never have their happy ending.

  “The coroner was correct,” Riley announced as he entered the room, followed by Loryn and the coroner. “The Marks don’t match.”

  “The run through the database should be done in a few hours,” the coroner said, starting to prepare the body for removal.

  “Take more photos once the body is removed,” Noelle ordered. The photographer nodded. Noelle cast one lingering glance at the Mark - there was something oddly familiar about the part she could see - and then stood up. “We’ll head back to the precinct and question the partner.” She sighed. “No ID for other of them?”

  “None for her, not yet,” Loryn said. “Guy in the car is refusing to give us a name. We’ll let you know if we find anything here.”

  “Thanks,” Noelle said, nodding and leading the way from the kitchen. It gave her the heebie-jeebies to spend s
o much time surrounded by blood. She could stand it when she had to, but she preferred to think outside of the crime scene itself.

  “Good job,” Riley said with an approving smile.

  “I had a good teacher,” she replied, trying not to grin. It wasn’t proper, not at a crime scene.

  A tall, blond officer came up to Loryn, handing her a file. “We found some info on the suspect,” he said.

  “And a printer,” Loryn replied dryly.

  “Mobile unit has one,” the officer explained. Loryn nodded at him and he turned and left.

  “His name - the suspect’s - is Elias Jones, and he’s twenty seven,” she said, passing Noelle the folder. Noelle skimmed the basics.

  “I’ll put together a more detailed file when we get back to the department,” Noelle said with a nod. Computers were good and all, but like most detectives, she preferred hard-copy records. “Riley will handle the interrogation. I’ll listen in.”

  “Normally you would lead the interrogation,” Riley said, his head tilting as if he was challenging but no actual challenge in his tone.

  “Yes, but because of the situation, I felt we could start with you and I could take over part way through?” she said, feeling off-balance. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea. “Sometimes they react different to men than women.”

  Riley nodded his acceptance. “We’ll meet him there.”

  The drive back to the department was quiet. “I hate these cases,” Noelle admitted. “I’d take a drive-by shooting any day.”

  “At least we have a suspect for this one,” Riley said, sounding oddly muted.

  “I wonder if she ever knew her other half,” Noelle mused.

  “We’ll find out,” Riley pointed out.

  “I suppose,” Noelle said, doubtful. She turned into the lot and parked the cruiser. “I’ll be along to the interrogation in a bit. I want to check the status of the Marks in the database.”

  Riley glanced at her and then nodded, leading the way inside. “You know where to find us,” he said. She nodded, heading to her desk. She didn’t have enough seniority to have her own office yet.

  Turning on her computer, she pulled up the MDB, the mark database that tracked all soulmate marks. As the police, it was their job to notify the other half of their partner’s death. Checking the case number on her work phone, she typed it in, pulling up the progress report on her screen. And then she stared.

  And stared some more.

  No.

  It couldn’t be.

  She glanced down at her wrist, her eyes wide. It was identical to the one on the screen, identical to a girl named Lydia Darrow. The dead girl.

  Noelle clutched her chest, trying to quell rising panic. Was she panicking? She honestly couldn’t tell. Noelle’s mind spun. The dead girl, the abused girl, was her other half. Her soulmate, her destined one. The only chance she had at a happy ending.

  “Riley,” she said, her voice strained. She didn’t know what to do, but she knew that he would know what to do. Noelle stopped one of the other sergeants in their tracks. “I need Riley; he’s in an interrogation room.” It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on her head.

  “I’ll fetch him right away,” the detective said.

  “Thanks.” Noelle watched the other cop scurry off. She glanced down at her wrist, the Mark there. Maybe she was being silly. Then there was a beep on the computer and she looked up. There was her picture on the side of the screen, Lydia’s on the other, and between them was their Mark, the unique brand that they and only they were born with.

  Riley appeared in front of her. “What do you need?” he asked, serious.

  Noelle glanced at the screen. That plus her expression was apparently enough to cue him in.

  He stepped forward, his eyes going wide at the sight of the pictures on the screen. “She was yours?”

  “Yeah,” Noelle said miserably. It hadn’t been explicitly covered in conflict of interest, but really, Noelle couldn’t think of any way in which their current situation wasn’t a potential breach of confidentiality. The lawyers would have a field day.

  “Guess you won’t be helping with the interrogation,” Riley said mildly. “You’ll have to alert our supervisor.”

  Noelle’s heart sank. “Not him.”

  “Yeah, him.” Riley was firm. “Now.”

  Noelle glared at him, closing out of the MDB software and locking the computer. “I’ll need your backup.”

  “I’ll pass the case to Caryn and Saoran,” Riley said. “Hang tight and I’ll be right back.”

  She eyed him. “Have you been practicing slang?”

  “Quiet, you.” He walked purposefully into the office on the other side of the department. She watched him go, turning away when he disappeared inside.

  It was not nearly long enough before he popped back out. “Oy!” he called. Noelle looked up. He beckoned her with a couple fingers.

  She swallowed thickly and headed in his direction. Head detective Ty Smith was sitting at his desk, fingers steepled under his chin. “Sit,” he said.

  “Yes, sir.” Noelle sat, glancing at Riley before turning back to Ty. She wanted to fidget but she couldn’t; she had to be strong and professional. One of the few women on the police force, she didn’t want to show any weakness.

  “Detective Riley has informed me of the situation,” Ty said, his face betraying nothing of what he thought. “Statements will be gathered from you and others to demonstrate that you had no idea that the victim was bound to you in any way until the conclusion of the MDB search.” He took a breath. “Neither you nor Riley will work on the case any further.”

  “Yes, sir,” Noelle said, nodding along with Riley.

  Ty looked at her, his eyes softening for a brief moment. “Take the week off,” he told Noelle kindly.

  “Sir?” Noelle asked, puzzled.

  “You didn’t know her at all?” he asked, a wistful sadness making him sound almost human.

  “No, sir.” Noelle shook her head.

  “A pity.” Ty sighed. “Riley, I’ll see you tomorrow. Noelle, come back on Monday.” He caught her stricken expression. “It’s paid time off, don’t worry.” He smiled faintly. “You’re both dismissed.”

  Both Noelle and Riley nodded and then left. Numbness made her chilly, despite the fact the department was warm. Riley walked her to her desk and watched her gather her stuff. “If you need me, call,” he said sternly.

  Noelle studied him for a moment, then nodded. She felt oddly numb and couldn’t pinpoint why. “I will,” she promised. “Take care of yourself.”

  Riley gave her a strange look. “I should be saying that to you,” he said, his eyes raking over her. “Go home,” he said, patting her shoulder.

  Defeated, Noelle nodded and disappeared out the door, stopping to turn and stare at the building behind her. Was she going to get in more trouble? What would her coworkers say? Walking to her car, Noelle frowned at the street lights. It was almost midnight, an early end to her shift. What would she do? She wasn’t even tired.

  Noelle had preferred nights since she started working at the department six years before, even choosing them as her top preference when she was promoted to homicide a couple years ago. It didn’t help she was a thousand miles away from home, and outside of the department, hadn’t really developed a social life.

  She slid in behind the wheel, turning on her car and then the radio. She was too keyed up to go home, and since she was dressed in plain clothes, she could easily go to a bar or something. Noelle tapped her fingers on her steering wheel in time to the music, her mind churning. A bar, she decided. Some alcohol and the busy atmosphere would help calm her.

  Bars weren’t normally her thing, especially not by herself. There was too much of a risk of being hit on. Noelle’s stomach twisted. Her soulmate, the one she had been saving herself for, was dead. What did it matter if she picked someone up and took them home? What did anything matter, anymore?

  Noelle pushed the thought
out of her mind, backing out of her parking spot and driving carefully. There was a little bar, not far from her apartment. It would be crowded enough for her purposes at this time of night, mostly with young college kids partying until the sun rose. Parking, Noelle slid out of the car. She started the quick walk to the bar. It was only about a twenty minute walk, and she lived in a decent part of town and she wouldn’t have to worry, walking home.

  She pushed open the doors to the bar and walked inside. The loud, pounding music hit her like a brick wall, and she smiled faintly. It had been a few weeks since she had had the free time to drop by for a few hours and she had missed it. “Hello, Sylveo,” she said to the bartender.

  He smiled at her. “Welcome back,” Sylveo said, as cheery as ever. He was a tall, lean man in his mid-thirties, with thick brown hair and deep green eyes. Noelle wasn’t really attracted to men, but if she had been, Sylveo would have been her type. “Your usual?” he asked.

  “Yes, please,” she said gratefully, watching as he poured her a drink. Her brain felt fuzzy, the world weird, as if it would never be right again. Sylveo placed the drink in front of her and she offered him a weak smile. “Thanks.”

  “Let me know when you need more,” he told her, his expression curious. She nodded acknowledgement and sipped her drink, enjoying the way the scotch burned on the way down. It was like liquid fire. Sylveo took the hint and moved on.

  Noelle closed her eyes, letting the loud music and the sound of people dancing and chatting assault her ears. It was comforting in a way, its familiarity taking away from the growing pit of sadness in her stomach. She sipped the scotch again.

  Why did she feel like she was going to be sick? Nothing was wrong with her. She wasn’t even upset. Was she? Lydia’s face flashed behind her eyes, and Noelle opened her eyes to stare blankly at her drink. All her life, she had been dreaming of the day she would meet the one destined to be hers. Her Mom had told her their story often, how she and Dad had met.