by Leigh Lennon
“Yeah, I didn’t have a chance to corner Higgie, but he has a gut feeling about something. Not sure what it is.”
She tosses her pen down, looking at Mal. “I guess we could talk about this without her here?” My response is on the tip of my tongue when Van begins to laugh. “You’re going to tell me to fuck off, so I’ll do you and your career a favor, and just say it doesn’t matter at this point. She’s immersed in the case as much as we are, if not more.”
Has my ex had a lobotomy in the past twenty-four hours? These thoughts and many others run through my mind, but all I do is laugh when she continues her questions on the investigation.
“Do you think the old man is hiding something?” Vanessa asks, and from my peripheral, Malia sits up, more interested in this line of questioning.
“You know, he was an ass at first, but then changed his tone. I don’t know.” The correct answer is I’m way too close to this case to be unbiased, but I’m certainly not recusing myself.
“And how is there any connection to the Strickland house?”
“Besides being similar in the floor plan, nothing else we can find. The builders of Malia’s childhood home has no connection with the builders of the Mastille and Halston house—but I’ll keep on digging through public records.”
I’m about to leave the room when Malia’s phone rings, and her text alerts go off. “Oh, shit.” She’s staring at her phone.
“What’s up, sweetheart?” I sit next to her, and I’ve been busted by Vanessa already, so I don’t hide what’s going on with us.
“The story of me has aired.” This is not a surprise, but for her, it’s got to be hard.
“We knew it was coming.”
She shows me the phone, a painstaking grimace on her face. “Yeah, well, now Georgia knows, and she’s pissed off I haven’t told her.”
“You mean, the redheaded spitfire best friend of yours?” I laugh because as Mal has described her, she’ll be sure to get an earful from her best friend. When I think she’s going to answer it, she sends it through to voice mail.
“What can I say, she’ll be pissed tomorrow, too.”
I’ve called him several times, and every call has gone to a voice message. I don’t begin to panic, not now. But Stewart Higgins being without his cell is not the norm.
I pick up the phone because Malia has made herself comfortable in Vanessa’s office. “Um, Captain, could you come out here for a second.” I swing around in my seat, and I see her talking to me, and I point at Malia. She stands, closing the door behind her.
“What’s up?” Her gaze falls on Higgie’s empty desk and back at me. “Where’s Higgins?”
“Cap, I can’t reach him, and his phone is going straight to voice mail. I’m not one to overreact, but hell, Van, he had a bad feeling, and I just let him go.”
She sits in Higgins' desk, reaching for his landline. “Yeah, give me Judge Carreter. I need a search warrant for…” I slide over the information, both the construction site and the owner's home address.
Vanessa recites the numbers, and I’m left to wonder if I’ll ever see Higgins again.
I whisk Mal out of the station, so quick, almost too quick, and in the back of a squad car with two uniforms for outside, and the same female cop she’s comfortable with while I’m out searching for my partner.
“What’s going on, Wells?” She’s not the scared little girl I remember. Even from several days ago, when I carried her in from the Montgomerys’ sidewalk, she’s matured in a way I could never quite explain if I hadn’t been with her since the beginning.
Her chocolate eyes are pleading with me. I know the only thing that will work is the truth.
“Higgins left to get the evidence from the owner. He’s not picking up his phone, and I haven’t heard from him. His car is still at the address, according to the tracker in all police-issued vehicles.”
She allows tears to fall from her face, but unlike the other times, it’s not in fear, but because someone she considers a friend in the short amount of time we’ve been together is missing and possibly hurt. Or worse, but neither one of us wants to go there.
“The officers are taking you to my house, and I’ll have more uniforms there soon. And I need you to stay put. Be in Kenzie’s line of sight the whole time, you hear me?”
I want to bring her into my warmth and let her draw strength from me, but we can’t, and for this very reason, I give her a little squeeze on the knee. “I’ll see you later,” I say, and she pulls at my hand.
“You promise?” Her words carry with it the most innocent question from a little girl who had her whole world taken away.
In the academy, they warn us about making promises we can’t keep. I shouldn’t do it, and I know this, but I’m not given a choice. I lean down, dropping a kiss on her forehead as my lips tip upward, showing her my smile. “Yeah, sweetheart, I promise.”
Chapter 24
Malia
Wells hadn’t been joking when he said there was a lot of ramen in his pantry. But on top of this bachelor staple, he also has frozen pizzas, TV dinners, frozen Chinese food, fish sticks, chicken nuggets, and about twenty boxes of frozen macaroni and cheese.
“Hell, Kenzie,” I begin, “we sure have our choices of junk food.” I pull out the fish sticks and the macaroni and cheese, looking for something fresh to serve alongside it. Besides the carrots I had bled on yesterday, there had been no other fresh fruits or vegetables.
“Typical man,” she teases, looking in the fridge. “Oh, can’t forget the beer, too bad I’m on duty, and you’re underage.” She has a point. Fuck, I want one so badly, but drinking beer in front of an officer would send the wrong message.
“Fair point. I’ll fix enough for all of us. Let the other officers know, and we’ll bring them out some.”
Kenzie sits down at the kitchen table. “No, I’ll tell them to come get it. If I let you out of my sight, Detective Shanahan will string me up by my double Ds. And not because of you being a witness.” She raises one eyebrow higher than the other, opening her can of pop and taking a sip.
“Shit, is it that obvious?” I ask.
“As fucking obvious as the boner he sports for you every time you walk into the room,” she continues, taking a ponytail holder, pulling her long chestnut brown hair back on the top of her head.
We’re both laughing when yelling and screaming can be heard from outside. “What the hell?” Kenzie stands, pulling out her gun. “You stay out of sight. Get in the kitchen and lie on the floor.”
I’m ready to obey when the familiar voice from outside gets my attention. “I don’t fucking care if the next black plague is in that house, I’m fucking getting to my best friend. So unless you want to fucking arrest me…”
“Kenz,” I begin as she opens the door, ready to point her gun at the familiar voice. I yell, “I know her; let her in!” Kenzie wants to argue, and when I move around the door, the male cop has my friend’s hands behind her back.
“Ah, for fuck's sake, Georgia, why didn’t you just ask them to get me?”
My best friend’s flaming hair is as red as her face. “You don’t think I tried that? And all of this would have been avoided if you’d picked up my fucking calls.”
I make eye contact with the policeman, who’s about ready to arrest her. “She’s fine. She’s my best friend from forever ago who is just a little mouthy. Can you please let her come inside, and I promise, she won’t give you anymore grief.”
I take in a sharp breath, greeting the officer who wants to take my best friend to the station with a nervous smile.
“I think she’s okay,” Kenzie begins. “We’ll make sure she obeys, right, Red?” Kenz gives her a sly smile, and Georgia agrees. The officer lets go of her hands, and my best friend runs to me, giving me a huge hug.
“This still doesn’t get you off the hook, you crazy ass bitch.” Talking to one another like this is our love language, and I can’t help but snicker at her.
“I know, but
you’re just in time for dinner.” I pull her close to my body. “You’ve met Kenz, right?”
“Good to have you here, Red.” I know Kenzie’s flirting with Georgia—not that this won’t go to her head, because my best friend’s ego is larger than the mane of red hair on her head—but Kenzie’s barking up the wrong tree. Georgia simply loves cock too much.
“Good to meet you, female cop.” Georgia’s one complaint has been when people refer to her as Red, claiming it’s not really original.
“Ah, that’s a good one, so you aren’t into nicknames.”
Georgia retorts, “Is this chick still talking to me?” Turning her head, she ignores Kenzie as she follows me into the kitchen.
“So, did you forget to tell me that a psychopath is after you? Hell, I jumped into my car and didn’t even grab a toothbrush or a change of clothes.” She’s talking fast, and this is par for the course when Georgia Leigh Nancy is nervous. I start the fish sticks, then grab some cartons of mac and cheese to heat them in the microwave. “Are you really going to eat fish sticks? I swear we haven’t had those since we were kids,” she begins.
I grab her hands. “Calm down, Georgie. One thing at a time.” She narrows her gaze in on me, knitting her eyebrows together. She’s plenty mad. “And don’t glare at me. I was going to wait until tonight to call you, but yes, it looks like the murders have started again.” I wait for Kenzie to cut me off, but she doesn’t. “I can’t say much, but they’re pretty sure the same man who murdered my family is back to staging crime scenes to resemble my parents’ and siblings’ murders.”
She slaps her mouth. “Oh, fuck, Mal, I’m so sorry. Shit. But whose house is this?” She points at the kitchen.
“You tracked me using my phone, huh?” We did this in case one was ever kidnapped, or it was an emergency, which I assume she categorizes as one. She nods, and I reach over and give her a playful flick on her arm. She’s going to flip over my answer. “It’s the police angel’s house.”
“Ah, fuck me every way to Sunday, you’re bullshitting me right now.” Kenzie begins to laugh at Georgia’s filthy mouth.
“Nope, it’s his house, and I’m staying here until they find this son of a bitch.”
She shakes her head, offering me a questioning gaze. “Well, looky here, my best friend has bloomed. I can see it all over your face.”
Kenzie, who had taken her can of Coke off the kitchen table and sat on the end of the couch, spits her pop all over the place.
“Yeah, thanks for basically telling her I was a virgin.” As soon as it comes out, I slap my mouth.
“Was—so past tense, very nice, and thanks for reaffirming my suspicions,” Georgia announces.
I stand to check on my fish sticks while hiding the embarrassment at the same time. I want to change the subject when I look at Kenzie. “Any word on Higgie?” I question. She looks at her phone, then shakes her head. Even in lighthearted banter, I can’t forget this is my life and a murderer wants me now as his own. It’s my new normal until he’s stopped.
Chapter 25
Wells
We pull into the large gravel parking lot that houses the construction warehouse, and Higgins' car is parked near a truck with the company’s logo displayed on the side. “This must be the old man’s vehicle.”
Ten squad cars assist us, but Van and I are the first to the doors. “Wait, Wells,” she cautions me.
This has become more than a case. First, my girl and now one of my best friends. I’ve let personal creep in a while ago, and I’ll never be able to get back to the simplicity of all my other cases.
I stand, following her order because she is my boss, after all. With five uniforms behind us, Vanessa pulls back the door, and I enter while she covers me. I expect a firestorm of bullets, but it’s only a body on the floor, but as he moans, I know it’s not my partner.
“Cover me, Van,” I call out, and when she pats my back, I recognize she’ll do just this. I pocket my piece and hurry to who I believe is the old man, Johnson Wallard.
“Sir?” He’s stirring but not conscious. “Sir, do you know where you are?” I pull out my radio. “I need an ambulance.”
“I don’t remember…” He’s stuttering, his eyes searching me. “Oh, hell, I have no idea. Where am I?”
“Mr. Wallard, you’re in your warehouse. My partner was with you. He was going to pick up the files.”
My words are slowly hitting him; the understanding as his focus on me is slow but gradual. “Oh, Detective. I was walking with him, and then all of a sudden, someone came up behind me. Your partner, I have no idea where he went.”
Vanessa, who had fanned out earlier, makes her way to me. “Higgins isn’t here.”
The owner begins to sit up, and she looks at his eyelids just as she had with Malia earlier today.
“Sir, anything you can remember would be helpful.”
His hand makes contact with the large goose egg on the back of his head. “Shit.” He winces, closing his eyes. “I pulled in the parking lot, and it was empty. My foreman had their crews out, but they’re always here by six to collect their cars, so this was odd, getting back here at a little after four in the afternoon with every car gone. I told your young detective this.”
The paramedics surround him, and I don’t have long before I can get more information for now. “Who knew you were coming to the station?” I ask.
“Of my three lead foremen, my son-in-law, Tim Wayne is my go-to. He pretty much runs the show now. Then his brother, Curtis, and another by the name of Ned Tarjeh.”
I’m trying to recall the names, a recollection of sorts, and something niggles away at me, and I can’t put my finger on it. “Could you give me their contact information? I need to speak to them.”
“Hey, sonny.” His tune changes to that of the cranky old-timer when we first started questioning him earlier. “They’re good men and certainly not who you’re looking for.”
Vanessa interrupts me, “If they have nothing to hide, then they’ll come out unscathed.”
I turn my head to Vanessa, who has stood her ground for me more in the past twenty-four hours than she had our entire relationship. We’re walking away, and I lean down because I have to know.
“Van, you’re being nice to me. What has changed?”
She imparts a weak smile my way. “I decided when I saw you and Malia together this morning that you’re not my enemy. And after all the shit we did to one another, you’re not the bad guy. We can work and, hell, maybe be almost friends.” She bumps my shoulder with hers, and I wonder if lightning may strike in the warehouse.
I turn my attention to my missing partner, and to that little bit of a doubt screaming at me, telling me I’m missing something. “Hey, Cap, I’m heading back to the precinct. My gut is shouting at me, but I just don’t know what it is yet. I hope it leads us to whoever the fuck has Higgins.” I should have never let my partner go by himself. I seem to continue to fuck this case up with every turn.
“Okay, I’ll get the three foremen brought in for questioning. See you back at the station.” In the way her hands tremble, I realize Vanessa is just as upset over Higgie’s disappearance as I am, but I’m the only one who sees this because I know her better than anyone.
“Van,” I call out, and she stops, turning around.
“Yeah, Wells?”
“We’ll get him back, we’ll find him, and he’ll be okay.” She gives me a tight smile, and my words are meant for her, but I need to hear it as much as she does right now.
Chapter 26
Malia
“So, since you apparently won’t need the guest room, do you think your police angel will allow me to stay here?” Georgia inquires.
I’m shoveling my mac and cheese into my mouth, and I give her a little nod because she’s right. After the past couple of days, and with his insisting I move my suitcase into his room, I’m positive Wells won’t have a problem with Georgia being here for a day or two, though she’s invasive as hell.
“Yeah, I’ll pass, and don’t think I missed how you said a bed—not a spare one.”
“I must be slipping,” Kenzie teases.
Georgia’s eyes square off with the flirty female cop. “Unless you have a cock between those legs, I’m not the girl for you.”
The witty banter doesn’t stop with Kenzie’s response. “And do you know firsthand what I can truly offer you, Red?”
Kenzie renders my best friend speechless. I find this comedic and allow myself to laugh, really laugh. The past couple of weeks have been a shitstorm, and I can’t figure out at times which way is up and which way is down.
Kenzie’s phone beeps, and she pulls it from her jeans pocket since she never changed after leaving her assignment at the university. “Wells is on his way back to the station to chase a lead. For now, I’m here until he gets back.” Her eyes connect to Georgia.
“Oh, yeah, lucky me.” And I start to laugh again because, at this point, it’s not flirtation. I’m learning Kenzie loves to piss people off, and her attention is on Georgia.
When my phone pings, I think it’s Wells, and I laugh at Greenlyn’s name unexpectedly popping up on the text. Georgia leans over. “Who’s Greenlyn?”
“My roommate.” I yank the phone away from her and pull up the text message. What I see is a picture of Greenlyn next to a bloody body slumped over in a chair. I don’t recognize the person at first, but with the black slacks, and the gray jacket, I don’t have to see his face. I know who it is right away. I wince at the message that pops onto the screen.
Greenlyn: Obviously, I’m not your roommate, but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll figure out a way out of the good detective’s house, and that way, I’ll let your friend and the young detective go. It’s you I’ve wanted since the day that asshole saved you. But I want to cherish you.