Tara. Her memory brought a different kind of ache—indescribable longing. He didn’t have enough time with her before she died, so he’d never know if they could’ve made a future together. If he was everything she needed. If they could share something like Eden and Turner did.
Landon hated that he wasn’t there when she died, that he didn’t prevent it from happening. He hated that he doubted their relationship. Sure, he’d said the three little-but-glacially-significant words, but looking back on it, he wondered if it was really love or just a more-naive man’s desire to be someone’s hero.
A desire he didn’t fulfill. A failure he was still paying for.
Maybe the shame would go away if he could avenge Tara’s death and help his friends have what he couldn’t. That had to be enough, didn’t it?
So the case had turned into an obsession. But obsession wasn’t love, nor was revenge or even justice. It was filler—something to focus on so he didn’t have to think too much. Didn’t have to remember too often.
Looking forward instead of back.
He glanced at his watch. With Turner and Eden doing exactly what he would be doing after waking up from limbo or wherever Turner had been, Landon needed to be somewhere else for a little longer.
What could a single guy do to kill another hour or so?
I could fill up the gas tank. He sighed. His life was so weak, he wasn’t even sure it could be called a life.
Maybe he should go directly to the Chief. The one who seemed to really like him all the way up to the moment he fired him. Or was told to fire him by someone who knew someone who knew someone who was tucked deep into The Clinic’s pocket.
A career he’d spent his entire adult life cultivating stripped away faster than a Band-Aid, but a thousand times more painfully. Then any police resources he had were gone, followed closely by his pride, his sense of self-worth, and a whole bunch of other shit that was probably useful.
His only solace was that he’d stopped his liquid diet before his liver gave out. So much to be proud of these days.
Knock it off, shithead. He had an hour to either play in the pity pool or do something he could pretend was productive. One stop before going back to the house and packing up. Before Hyde tried to claw his way out of Turner again.
They needed help. Because there was no way Landon would lose his friend again. But the kind of help they needed either didn’t exist or was so well hidden, it was a bigger mystery than a woman’s mind.
Back when Landon was legit, Chief Fuller liked, trusted, and respected him. Remember those days? He missed his job, a sense of purpose, and protecting people. After this shit with The Clinic was over, he’d get it back and have everything he used to have. Which wasn’t actually that much. But even his sad nothing of a life was better than all this fighting.
With a sigh came a decision—he’d talk to the Chief and keep his fingers crossed. Because that was just as productive as anything else they were doing.
When he pulled up to the Chief’s house, he spotted two American-made cars in the driveway and a high-end import parked on the street right in front.
One of these things is not like the others. Out of habit and without breaking stride, he noted the plate and took a picture with his cell phone on his way up to the door.
A woman holding a baby answered. “Can I help you?”
He recognized her from a picture in the Chief’s office. With an ability that only women possess, she balanced the child on her shoulder and used both hands to snap up the little outfit he wore.
“Evening, ma’am. I’m Nick Landon. We met at a few station events you probably wished you didn’t have to attend.”
She smiled and nodded. “I remember you, but I’m assuming you came here to see my husband, not me.”
“Yes, ma’am. Is he available?”
“Available?” She tilted her head, annoyed, before shrugging the baby into another position. “Very rarely, but he is here. Come in. Is this about a case?” She led him through the foyer.
“Yes, ma’am.” Landon waved at the baby, wishing he would stop staring. Then the kid burped and puked up the most frightening thing Landon had ever seen, and that was saying a lot. The stuff shot out of the kid’s mouth and down Mrs. Fuller’s shirt as if someone had just thrown a can of paint on her back.
“Please tell me he didn’t just do what I think he did,” she said.
“I wish I could.” And I wish I hadn’t just witnessed it.
She adjusted the child and looked at her shoulder. “Dang it, Matthew!” Then she turned to Landon. “Third time today I’ve had to change my shirt.”
“Would you like me to hold him a sec?”
Her eyes narrowed for a moment as she considered it. She didn’t seem angry, just wary, which was appropriate. She was the wife of a police chief and had probably heard enough stories to make her want to keep the kid in a bubble.
She yelled, “Robert! Matthew needs to be changed, and one of your detectives is here to see you.”
“I’m not a—”
“Thanks.” She shoved the child at Landon and flicked her head down the hall. “They’re in the living room.” She called out, “Robert, hurry up!” and then went upstairs.
Landon held the child at arm’s length, watching a drip of goo fall off the kid’s chin. “Hey.” The baby smiled, completely undisturbed by what he’d just regurgitated. “Don’t do that again, got it, little man?”
Chubby legs kicked playfully as Landon headed down the hall, hoping he’d encounter the kid’s father before anything more disturbing happened. If there was anything more disturbing that could happen.
Chief Fuller flinched when he saw them. Maybe because he hadn’t expected to see Landon in his house or maybe because Landon was holding his kid. After his initial reaction, he came forward with a smile and took his son from Landon’s outstretched arms.
“Good to see you, Landon. Unexpected, but good. How’ve you been?”
“I’ve had my ups and downs, but I’m fine, sir. Thanks.”
“You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ anymore.”
“Old habits… Could we talk for a minute?”
Fuller hesitated a moment before nodding his head towards the room he’d just come out of. The room was large with a playroom at one end and a grown-up area on the other. A little girl was handing a plateful of plastic food to a man sitting on the couch. The man was in his forties, thin, probably about 5’11” but it was hard to know for sure.
After he’d finished his professional observation, he felt something tighten in his gut. Was it…envy? Everything was so normal here. A long time ago, he wanted a life like this one—nice house, cute and messy kids, a wife who yelled at him and thought he worked too much. But he’d forgotten. Or maybe he didn’t think about it because he knew it would never be. Not with the path he’d chosen.
Along with Tara went everything he thought his life would be. Normalcy. Happiness. A legacy. The only legacy he’d leave now would be the end of the organization that killed her. And even that was far from a sure thing.
He swallowed and started moving again. “I didn’t know you had children, sir.”
“Enough with the ‘sir’ sh— stuff. Call me Robert. And I’ll call you…What’s your first name, Landon?” Big emphasis on ‘Landon’ with a quick glance towards the man across the room.
The guy’s hand froze, the plastic cake inches away from his mouth. Then his face paled and his smile disappeared. Landon knew that some people found him intimidating, but this guy was sitting in the Chief’s house. And he hadn’t reacted to Landon’s size or demeanor—he’d reacted to his name. As if the guy knew he’d just shown all his cards, he ducked his head down and spoke to the little girl quickly, thanking her for the feast.
What the hell? “My first name is Nick. But everyone calls me Landon.” He spoke his name slowly, so the guy wouldn’t miss it. And he didn’t, adjusting in his seat and looking at Fuller nervously.
As if he needed
the Chief to rescue him.
Heat radiated out of Landon’s chest, filling every part of him. It was like walking into your grandmother’s house and discovering that, instead of brewing sweet tea, she’s brewing meth.
Chief Fuller? No, that wasn’t possible. Sure, it would explain every single thing the department had done regarding anything The Clinic was involved in, but...
Every single thing. Landon slowly let out the breath he’d been holding. Emotional reactions could happen later. Smart reactions need to happen now. Hunches are wrong all the time.
Fuller laughed, his back still to Landon. “Yeah, that might be easier. I can barely keep track of my kids’ names.” He set the baby down on a changing table. “What’s your name, champ?” he cooed, leaning forward. The baby smiled again and Landon readied for another waterfall of unknown mush to shoot all over Fuller’s face. Sadly, it didn’t happen.
“Uncle Steve,” the little girl whined, “you didn’t finish your dessert.”
“Yeah, eat your dessert, Uncle Steve,” Fuller called out, still smiling at his son. With his back turned, he couldn’t see how uncomfortable ‘Uncle Steve’ had become, but Landon could.
He crossed the room with his hand out. “I’m Nick Landon. I used to work for the Chief.”
The man shifted his plate of fake food into one hand and shook. His palm was sweaty. So either he was allergic to plastic food or Landon being there was making Uncle Steve nervous. And in times like these, Landon would bet on the latter.
Somehow he was involved with The Clinic. He might even be the disappearing scientist, Steve Harris. Because he was here, in this house, with the man who had enough clout in the police department to make anything disappear.
There were no words that could express what he was feeling. Coincidences happen. Accidents happen. But not for Landon. Not for Eden. And not for Turner. Part bad luck and part because The Clinic loved to screw with them too much.
And maybe Fuller had helped them out with that. It would have been so easy for him to lose files, close cases, and take away Landon’s job. And no one would ever look that high for someone to blame. Because human nature is to look down.
Calm down and stop seeing red everywhere. He could be completely wrong. His gut was screaming, ‘No, you’re not,’ but starting from a conclusion didn’t work.
“Should I call you ‘Uncle Steve?” Landon asked, hoping to solicit a last name.
When Steve hesitated, the little girl helped him out. “Daddy just calls him Steve.”
Landon bowed to her. “Then that’s what I’ll call him too.” He sat down in a wingback chair. It wasn’t right to have the kid here, standing next to someone who’d ruined so many lives. “Do you have any food left? I’m starving.”
The little girl smiled and ran back to her kitchen to fix him something just as Mrs. Fuller came in and took over baby-clean-up from her husband.
Fuller seemed calm, but the job taught Landon that some reactions couldn’t be controlled. No matter how good a liar someone is, the evidence is there if you look hard enough.
He knew he was sending out a billion subtle messages through his body language—that he wanted to put his hands around Fuller’s throat and shake him until the truth fell out, and that it was taking everything he had not to channel Turner’s mouth and start screaming obscenities.
But since that would get him nowhere fast, he focused on controlling the ones he could. Hands open—unlike theirs. Legs uncrossed and slow, deep breaths—unlike Steve’s. And he looked for the ones no one could control—eye dilation, increased blood flow to the cheeks, and micro-expressions. These were the things he focused on—his own and the other two men in the room. The two highly uncomfortable men in the room.
“So what’s up?” When Fuller sat down on the couch instead of asking him to step into another room for the discussion, Landon wondered if he was deliberately using the kid to stop any unpleasantness.
I didn’t know the department was using children as shields now. Interesting. “I wanted to talk to you.” You piece of shit.
“You could have called me at the office.”
“Yes, sir. But my mother told me there are three things you should never do over the phone.”
“And those are…?”
“Don’t break up your girlfriend, don’t ask for a favor, and don’t accuse someone of wrongdoing.” He let the words linger, let them wonder whatever evil people wonder about. He took the plate of plastic fruit and a steak from the little girl. “Thank you. It looks delicious.”
“You’re welcome,” she said shyly.
“So which is it?” Fuller asked as he motioned her over and pulled her onto his lap.
“Well, I’m not here to break up with you, so you can cross that one off the list.” Landon created another pause by taking a pretend-bite of a strawberry and winking at the girl. It also provided enough time to tell her to run upstairs so she wouldn’t see him beat the shit out of her daddy. But he didn’t do that, as tempting as it was. “I need to ask you for a favor, sir.”
“What kind of favor?”
The little girl wiggled unhappily when Fuller pulled her closer to him.
It took all of Landon’s strength not to say exactly what he wanted. To see Steve’s reaction and watch both men squirm in front of the kids and Mrs. Fuller as they tried to lie their way out of everything.
But while it would be satisfying, it wouldn’t get him anywhere but into more trouble. Panic might make Steve do something stupid, but not Fuller. If what Landon believed was true, the man had been lying for years, using the system to lose files, close cases, dump condemning information, and get rid of people who asked too many questions. All at The Clinic’s discretion.
“I’m looking for work—private investigations. I was hoping I could put your name down as a reference. Sir.” Again, he let the silence linger as the men considered what that meant for them.
“I hope it’s something more interesting than cheating spouses or insurance fraud.”
As Mrs. Fuller brought the baby over, the Chief’s eyes moved to her, and then back to Landon. “Come on, Sydney,” she said to the little girl. “Quiet time.” The girl begrudgingly got off her father’s lap and went to her mom with a frown on her face. “Detective, I’m sure my husband was just about to offer you something to drink.”
Be smart. Not impulsive. “I’m not a detective anymore, ma’am, and I can’t stay. Could I use your bathroom before I go?” He’d get more info if he let them converse in perceived privacy for a little while.
“Down the hall on the right. Say goodbye, Sydney.”
“Goodbye. Uncle Steve, bring me back a good present. I don’t want a key.”
“A key?” Landon asked as he stood.
Mrs. Fuller laughed. “My brother is going to Key West.”
Steve’s wide eyes darted from Landon to Fuller. “Just for a week or so.” Liars over-explain things. They feel the need to convince in a way honest people don’t. So Landon let him talk, let him go as deep as he would. “Going to drive down…” He kept talking, but Landon stopped focusing on the words as much as everyone’s reactions.
Mrs. Fuller looked directly at her brother, smiling slightly, adding a few comments of her own. She believed him, bought his story of a short trip to the Keys.
But Fuller knew better, eventually cutting the man off mid-sentence. “Sydney needs to say goodbye, Steve.”
“Oh, sure.” He held his arms out for Sydney to jump into. “Come here, kiddo.” He squeezed her tightly, not letting her go even after she unwrapped her arms from him and wiggled her way to the ground, the whole while explaining that she really didn’t need any quiet time today and could keep playing. Then little Matthew was shoved into Steve’s arms for a bon voyage hug. For a short trip that Landon was 90% sure was more of a three-hour cruise to an island with lots of Mai Tais and no extradition.
“You’ll stay until I’ve finished putting them down?” she asked Steve. “Twenty minutes.”
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“Sure,” he said, glancing briefly at Landon.
Great news all around. With everyone focused on goodbyes, Landon opened a recording app on his cell and put the phone facedown behind a big box of Legos.
When Mrs. Fuller left to take the kids upstairs, he walked down the hall with her.
“Is Steve your only brother, ma’am?” Landon asked her quietly.
“God, no. We’re two of six.”
“That’s insane,” he said, smiling. He asked her about her family, her ancestors, where they grew up, all to get one more piece of information—Steve’s last name.
“Harris.”
And Harris was his name-o. “Hmm…I think that’s English or Irish or one of those places.” Landon didn’t know, and he didn’t care. After thanking her, he excused himself, keeping a polite grin on his face until he closed the bathroom door behind him.
Then he growled.
Little kid toys were scattered around the bathroom—on the vanity, the floor, in the tub. Either Steve kept a bag of toiletries at his sister’s for the hell of it or the guy was staying close to the Chief for safekeeping.
He leaned against the wall and waited, giving the men a chance to talk, come up with a devious plan, or let something he needed to know slip. Hopefully by then he wouldn’t be shaking with rage anymore.
As he picked some kind of bath toy off the ground, another pang of jealousy hit him. Harder this time. Along with a fairly large fistful of hate. Fuller didn’t deserve this. None of it. If he was moonlighting for The Clinic and was directly involved with Landon’s life being taken away, then he deserved nothing.
And that’s exactly what Fuller would end up with.
Chapter VII
After both Eden and Mitch were sated, at least temporarily, they talked. In the shower, with his arms wrapped around her, she came clean. She told him everything, never lying but softening a few things slightly. When she explained what he’d done to her father, he knew the violence in Hyde well enough to read between her lines.
When she told him what Alex really wanted from her—a baby created by her and a Hyde, any Hyde—he broke a few tiles. Luckily, he didn’t break his hand.
Strange Case, an Urban Fantasy (Hyde Book III) Page 6