Ice Breakers

by Heather C. Myers

  Practice was over.

  I needed to get in there and talk to Eric, ASAP.

  I walked back into the rink, the cold air slapping me across the face. I headed down the small staircase and walked down a hallway, waiting for the team to trickle out. A couple of media outlets including the local paper and the most recent Fox Sports West journalist were already hanging by the door, hoping to score an interview. I hung back, leaning against the brick wall and opening my phone, wondering if Daniel had texted back.

  Of course, buried under all of this concrete, I had no service so I was left to wait without something to do to kill time.

  It was another five minutes before players started to emerge. I straightened and tilted my head up, wondering if Eric was going to take his time like he usually did and hang out in the locker room, chatting with his teammates and completely losing track of time. It annoyed the shit out of me when we were together because he knew I was waiting for him but he didn’t seem to care.

  Those same feelings I had had in the past began to bubble up currently. My eyebrows pushed together, wrinkling my forehead and I kept glancing at my phone to see how much time had actually passed.

  “Hey, Chalmers.”

  I looked up, surprised to see Kevin Durante here. He wasn’t a hockey player himself, but he had been part of the family that fostered Eric when he was first drafted by the team at seventeen years old. Kevin was the same age as Eric and he and Eric had gotten really close during the short amount of time they lived together.

  “Hey, Kevin. How are you?”

  Kevin had always been a quiet guy. He had never been rude to me but I was never able to get a read on him which unnerved me at times. I wasn’t sure what he did for a living, but I think he had a job at the arena because of his ties to the Buccaneers’ GM.

  “Good.” He nodded his head. “Well, not great, actually. I take it you heard what happened?”

  “I think the whole city heard,” I said.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Kevin said, leaning close to me so no one would overhear. Not that they would when both journalists were doing interviews. Still, the thought was nice. “He’s missed you. He’ll never tell you, but he’s missed you a lot these past few years. He still talks about you. And after everything, he said he was going to hire you to help him. I’m just glad you’re here. He needs you.”

  I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to Kevin’s words, but a small smile touched my face. It was nice to hear the sentiment from him, from Eric’s closest friend.

  At that moment, Eric walked out of the locker room. I couldn’t help but stare at him. His broad frame was still damp with the water from the shower he took immediately after practice. His hair was slicked back in the way I liked, his plain white t-shirt clinging to his torso the way I used to when we were wrapped up in each other. My cheeks pinched and I had to look away, even as I felt his blue eyes on me.

  “Hey.” His voice jolted me out of my traitorous thoughts, reminding me that I was here for a reason.

  I had a job to do. I was a professional, for crying out loud. Just because Eric was gorgeous didn’t mean I needed to get tongue-tied, like some teenage girl chasing around a boy band.

  “Hey,” I responded.

  “I’ll wait outside,” Kevin said, nodding his head to the doors. Eric acknowledged him with a nod. “It was good to see you, Mika. Wish it was more often, but I’ll take what I can get.” He smiled before disappearing.

  I turned to Eric, shoving my hands in my pockets. I didn’t really watch hockey, even with my father being who he was. It was easy to forget how cold the rinks could get. I should have worn a heavier sweater.

  “I take it you saw the press conference?” he said. I was glad he didn’t make an effort to engage me in small talk. That was the last thing I wanted, especially when there was a huge ball of tension between us.

  “That was shit show, Eric,” I said, not bothering to dance around it. “You look bad.”

  He sighed, adjusting the bulky hockey bag he carried on his shoulder. With his free hand, he rubbed his brow.

  “Tell me about it,” he said.

  “It sounds like something did happen between you,” I said. I was treading on a thin rope and I would snap it at any second. His sex life wasn’t my business.

  But it was.

  At least in this particular instance.

  At least if he wanted me to take the case.

  “Sounds like that’s a no then?” He tilted his head to the side. “Look, you can just tell me without playing this game, Mika. Not you, okay?”

  “Tell you what?” I furrowed my brow, giving him a face. “What game are you talking about?”

  “About my case. Whether you’ll take it or not.” He let out a breath. “I gave them my DNA. In case you worried about whether I did it. I gave them my DNA. If I’m guilty, would I do that.”

  “Honestly, Eric, you could do that knowing you didn’t leave any DNA on her and wanting to come across as innocent.” I shrugged. “I’ll take it, Eric.” I made sure to look him in the eye. “But you need to be honest with me from here on out. I’m going to be asking you personal questions, questions that might make you uncomfortable. I want to reiterate that my job here is not proving you innocent. It’s solving the crime. So if you did do it, I will find out.”

  “I know you will,” Eric said, his voice low, his eyes pooling into mine. “I didn’t do it, Meeks. You can trust me.”

  I wanted to believe him, but something held me back. I just hope it wasn’t because he was the monster I adamantly denied he could be.

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, I all but jumped out of bed. I planned to track down Ashley Dunham and try to figure out if I could get the real story. I wanted to rewatch her press conference on my laptop to see if I could pick up anything and jot down any questions I had.

  This wasn’t exactly something I was comfortable with. Essentially, I was tearing down a potential victim. Deep down, I knew Eric wasn’t capable of something as heavy as rape, and yet, it didn’t make confronting her any easier. I tried to remind myself that she was doing something wrong. She was ruining the reputation of a prominent figure in the community because he hadn’t settled out of court. On top of that, she involved the police – though Beech said a report had yet to be filed so she couldn’t be brought up on charges of filing a false police report just yet – and now an official investigation was underway.

  The fact that Beech was investigating anything without a report was ridiculous. It aggravated me how easily the police department – the chief in particular – catered to the citizens. There was a reason Irvine as a whole felt entitled where they could call up Beech and start criticizing him before anything was official.

  I had all of her contact info from Eric. After getting his side of the story – something much more difficult than I cared to admit – I immediately noticed some discrepancies besides the obvious issue of consent. Eric insisted they were both drunk. Ashley said she was sober but Eric was drunk. Eric said this happened at the team party last season after they got knocked out of the playoffs by the San Francisco Dolphins. Ashley said it happened more recently, during an outing at a nightclub once the team started practicing for this season. Unfortunately, Eric didn’t have proof of what he said. I wanted to see if Ashley had proof that helped her story.

  I headed to my office to run her number through my system and managed to find her address. I also got copies of her credit report and bank statements. I wasn’t sure I would actually need them but I wanted to have them just in case.

  I looked through them but didn’t find any enormous sum deposited into her bank account and I didn’t see any uptick in her spending. I knew she had come out with this information because Eric didn’t settle, but I still didn’t see how this benefitted her. Sure, she could take down Eric, but once it got out that Eric was innocent, her life would be ruined. She would be forever the girl who falsely accused Eric Foresburg of rape. Why would she r
isk that?

  “Not that that’s any of my business,” I muttered to myself.

  “Talking to yourself again, Chalmers?”

  I looked up at the familiar voice and came in contact with the light brown eyes of Ryan King, attorney for Ashley Dunham. I lectured myself at the fact that he managed to get in my office without me even realizing it. More than that, I should have expected his visit. Ryan King had a way of slithering to places he didn’t belong to try and bat his eyelashes and get information. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was how he knew I was investigating his client’s case as well.

  If he knew.

  I pressed my lips together. The last thing I wanted to do was play my hand when he could very well be here for something completely unrelated.

  “Just speaking my thoughts out loud,” I said. I x-ed out the browser I had pulled up of the press conference in case he decided to come over and try to look over my shoulder. He had pulled shit like that in the past, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he employed the same method even now.

  Whatever it took to get him the win.

  “What can I help you with, Ry-guy?”

  He placed his hand over his heart. “You know I love when you use terms of endearment,” he said. “It just legitimizes our relationship even more. Makes me feel like I mean something to you.”

  “Oh, trust me, you mean a lot of things to me.” I smirked, leaning against the chair, trying to be casual. I perked my brows. “Well? Why are you here?”

  “Can’t I drop by and visit my favorite PI?” He stepped forward and it was only then that I noticed he had a cup in his hand from the Moon Café, my favorite café in Irvine – in all of Orange County, actually. “I brought you your favorite drink: hot chocolate with whip cream, no mocha drizzle on top. Want it?”

  “What would I have to do in return?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the drink. I didn’t realize I wanted one until that very moment. I hadn’t had one since last winter. Because the weather was finally starting to cool down, it was the perfect time to start drinking it again.

  “You wound me.” He placed the cup on my desk and stepped back. I noticed the sleeves to his teal button-up shirt were rolled to his elbows, his grey slacks pressed and fitted. “I would never give you something with any expectation of you doing something for me in return. I’m not Eric Foresburg.”

  I let out a breath through my nose, a frown touching my lips. I was unamused by his segue, though I grabbed the drink regardless.

  “I was wondering when I was going to see you,” I said before bringing the cup to my lips. The drink was sweet, chocolatey heaven. I practically melted in my chair.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” he said, “especially considering the fact that you guys dated for a couple of years, right?”

  I nearly spat up my drink. How could he possibly know that? Beech didn’t know that and he was the best detective in Irvine. Granted, I highly doubted Beech actually gave a shit about my love life. Which just begged the question: why did Ryan care?

  “My love life isn’t your concern,” I said as sweetly as I could. I took another drink of the hot chocolate, hoping he didn’t see my initial reaction at his words. I didn’t want Ryan to think he got the better of me.

  “It is when it could be a conflict of interest,” Ryan pointed out.

  “Except I’m not a police detective. I’m not opening an official investigation. Anything I find won’t hold up in court unless I acquire it legally and I choose to turn it over to the police.”

  “See? There it is.” Ryan gave me a sly look. “How am I supposed to trust that you’re going to turn everything over to the police.”

  “I’m surprised by how much faith you have in me,” I said. I set the cup down and crossed my arms over my chest. “I didn’t actually think you took me seriously.”

  “Oh, cut the shit, Mika,” he said. His voice was still charming, even if there was an edge to it. “We both know you’re better that ninety-five percent of the dicks at IPD. My concern stems from the fact that Eric hired you. My client –“

  “Nice speech, by the way,” I said, deciding to cut him off on purpose. I glanced down at my nails, pretending to be indifferent to this entire conversation. “Your voice really shines no matter who’s reading the words.”

  “You liked it?” He went along with my sarcasm, adding his own. “That’s great, considering it’s the truth. I copied everything she told me and dressed it up so it would pack more of a punch.”

  “And here I thought you were a lover, not a fighter.”

  “I only fight in the courtroom.”

  I snorted, shaking my head. “You’re a piece of work, King,” I said.

  “Yes, well.” He shrugged. “Anyway, let’s cut the shit – with all due respect, obviously.” He gave me what was probably his charm smile that probably won over tons of women who didn’t realize he had a terrible personality. “I already know Eric hired you. I already know you’re going to come at my client and question her. I know you’re going to catch her in a lie.”

  “Because your client is lying?” I arched a brow and resisted the urge to drink more of the hot chocolate. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

  He gave me a fake smile that caused the corners of his eyes to wrinkle, but not in an unattractive way. “No,” he said slowly. “Because you’re a lot smarter than other people and you’ll probably twist her words, manipulate them into whatever you want, and throw them back at her before she can realize what’s going on. She doesn’t need that right now.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t if she had been raped recently,” I said.

  “Three weeks ago isn’t recent?” he asked, perking his brow. “That’s weird. I guess it depends on your definition of recent, then. I always assumed three weeks was recent, but maybe not.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess that’s my job to prove in court.”

  I nodded my head. “Pretty much,” I said. “So what’s going to happen if you lose, Ry-Guy? When I prove Eric didn’t do it, do you retreat for the winter until spring comes and you can emerge from your cave of shame.”

  “I don’t have one of those, but let me tell you, it sounds awesome.” He stuck his finger up. “In all honesty, I haven’t thought about losing because I don’t lose. I’m a winner. I’m better at what I do than anyone else.”

  “So you saw a vulnerable girl and decided to team up with her and exploit something that may or may not have happened.”

  “Oh, it happened. I have the doctor’s report to prove she was raped.”

  I went absolutely still. My desktop phone rang but I ignored it. I couldn’t pull my gaze away from Ryan if I tried.

  “It happened three weeks ago,” I repeated dumbly. “How can you get a report of something that happened three weeks ago?”

  “She went to the hospital,” he told me. He was talking to me with clear, concise diction, as though I was an inept child and he needed to speak slowly so I would understand him better. “A rape kit was completed.”

  “But she didn’t file a police report?” That struck me as strange. “Why wouldn’t she file a report?”

  “That’s her business, not ours.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Look, the only reason I dropped by was to tell you not to interview her, not to upset her. The last thing you would want is to look like an unsympathetic jealous ex-girlfriend, would you?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Is that a threat?” I asked quietly, my teeth clenched together.

  “You do what you need to do to solve your case,” he said. “I do what I need to do to win mine.”

  I watched him walk out, leaning in my chair, arms over my chest. I wasn’t sure what to make of this new information. She had a rape kit done the night of the rape?

  That didn’t bode well for Eric.

  And yet, if they had concrete evidence against him, Beech would have already made the arrest.

  I needed that report. I needed to see what they had. I knew the hospital wouldn’t give it to me.r />
  But maybe Beech would.

  Chapter 9

  Before I decided to drop by Beech’s desk, I decided my best course of action would be to follow the alleged victim, Ashley Dunham. Beech and I still had tension between us. It wasn’t like we had the sort of relationship where we could talk and work things out between the two of us. We would probably forget he wasn’t such a dick to me for no reason because that was just who we were. He had too much pride to apologize, and if I asked him for one, it would come across like I cared.

  Which I didn’t.

  At the end of the day, my only concern was figuring out whether or not Eric raped Ashley. It wasn’t even to prove she got raped. I still didn’t deny that that was a big possibility. The way she told her story – despite the fact that Ryan King wrote her statement – seemed to reflect someone who had suffered trauma. As though her words, while not the truth, were true to her.

  The fact that she did have a rape kit threw me off. I still didn’t understand why she decided to pursue a public forum rather than filing a police report privately if she had this evidence. It made me think that there wasn’t enough evidence to officially name Eric as her rapist or else he would have already been arrested.

  And yet, Ryan alluded to the fact that the rape kit was going to do just that – be the piece that did lock Eric up. Granted, they could arrest Eric based on her statement and the rape kit – even if it was only circumstantial – but Ryan might be able to knock things out of the park if it managed to go to trial. Ryan had a knack for both charm and persuasion. I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if he was able to get Eric locked up on Ashley’s statement alone, he was just that good.

  I grabbed my keys and the information I had on Ashley. My first stop was her home, which happened to be in a small apartment in Irvine.

  It took me ten minutes to get over to the Northwood neighborhood. I turned down Walnut and managed to find the small apartment complex easier than I thought I would. Sometimes, the apartment complexes in Irvine resembled homes so much it was difficult to figure out where the leasing office was and what apartment complex I was visiting.