“This is a real problem,” Gray said.
D’Augostino’s eyes narrowed to thin slits. “What do you mean, it’s a real problem?”
“The nature of your personal conflict calls everything about that investigation into question. Frankly, as your supervisor, I’m going to have to think about how to handle this massive error in judgment.”
“Now, wait a damn minute. Before you go talking about massive errors in judgment, maybe we should discuss your own conduct over the past few weeks.”
Mia’s spine tingled and she shot a glance at Gray, whose face had grown dangerously dark. “Be careful,” he warned. “I’m your superior.”
“Oh?” D’Augostino said with a mocking grin. “I thought we were having a personal discussion here.”
Mia’s gaze darted between the two men, who looked ready to tear into each other. “Maybe we should take a break—”
“You know what I’m talking about,” D’Augostino said, plowing through Mia’s suggestion. “Maybe I’m guilty of taking on an investigation into the disappearance of a woman I secretly had feelings for. But you’re guilty of having a relationship with a person of interest in one of your murder cases.”
Oh, no. Mia sank lower in her chair, her face burning. If she could have melted into a thin stream and run out the door, she would have. The men continued to argue around her.
“That’s not your concern.” Gray’s voice rumbled, and Mia detected a warning note in his tone. “She’s not a person of interest.”
“She’s not? Is that because you say so, or is there some exculpatory evidence that I’m not aware of?”
Both men were out of their seats, facing off in front of Gray’s desk. “If you’ve got a problem with me, then say it to my face. Leave Mia out of it.”
Too late. She rose on shaking knees. “I should go—”
“She’s part of it,” D’Augostino continued. “She’s the problem. Her prints are all over a gun, and you’re ignoring it because you want to sleep with her.”
“Now, you wait a minute.” The words tumbled out of Mia’s mouth before she could think about them, and she didn’t care. Her face felt flushed, her heart was pounding, and she’d had enough of being talked about as if she weren’t in the room. “You have some nerve talking about me that way, and I won’t sit here and take it. I had nothing to do with the deaths of those reporters. Nothing.” Her breathing was shallow, and she stopped to gulp some air before proceeding. “But that’s all irrelevant. We’re here to talk about you. You may not regret the way you’ve mishandled my sister’s file, but now she’s been missing for almost a year, and that’s something I live with every day. It’s torn my family apart. You made some big assumptions in her case, leaped to conclusions and overlooked evidence. If you can call that good police work, then it’s a wonder you close any files at all.”
Her heart beat nearly out of her chest, and Mia’s frame trembled with the force of her anger. D’Augostino and Gray watched her, dumbfounded, while she collected her handbag. “All right,” Gray finally ventured. “Let’s take a break—”
“I’m doing more than taking a break,” she said. This time, her voice was almost controlled. “I’m finished here, and I’m going home. If you want to discuss me as a person of interest while I’m gone, be my guest. In the meantime, the person who killed those reporters will go free.”
She didn’t bother to note their reactions. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry, and it was a good, cleansing anger. Maybe later she’d feel some regret or awkwardness, but right at that moment, she didn’t care about anything but having the last word. She swept out of the office without so much as muttering a goodbye and beat a quick trail to the exit.
Chapter 16
Enough was enough. Mia tossed her handbag into the corner as she entered her apartment, still bristling with anger. She’d had enough of feeling powerless, of waiting for others to find answers for her. Look where that had gotten her! She was a person of interest in the deaths of two reporters, and her sister was still missing. Last summer she’d pledged to find her sister, and she’d been derailed after her attack. Well, no more. She was back.
“Enough being passive!” she said to Sigmund as he waddled past her legs. “Enough leaving it all to the so-called experts. I’m an expert, too, dammit.”
Still, her cheeks burned as she replayed D’Augostino’s words in her mind. He’d been so blunt, and she’d been sitting right there. Somewhere in the course of this investigation, D’Augostino had lost respect for her, and she had no idea why.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said out loud to herself as she swept through her apartment, picking up papers, cups and other things that Gray had left lying around. She wasn’t used to having to pick up after other people, and Gray was the easily distracted type who left things out where they didn’t belong.
It was time to formulate a plan. She’d make a note of all the witnesses the police had spoken to, and she’d reinterview them as necessary. She’d figure out whose blood had been in Lena’s apartment—a massive bit of evidence that D’Augostino had completely missed somehow. Someone else had been with Lena that night, and that person could be the key to the investigation. She planned out her next moves as she scrubbed the countertops, and by the end of her cleaning, she felt more organized, inside and out.
She felt so satisfied that she took out the vacuum and began to clean the floors, picking up area rugs and using the little fabric component to lift Sigmund’s hair from the furniture. She vacuumed the dust out of the radiators and lifted it from the corners. Then she dusted the furniture, getting the tops of the windows, too. She whistled while she did it, feeling an energy she hadn’t felt since the attack. This was her life, and it was about time she brought some order back to it.
She put fresh sheets on the bed and changed out the towels, then decided it had been too long since she’d cleaned out her clothes. She stood at the door of her closet, considering the limp fabrics that hung from the hangers. Some of these tops hadn’t been worn in nearly two years—she’d toss them into a charity bin. A few of these pants were out of style—charity bin. One hanger at a time, she sorted out the mess of her life, and by the time she was finished, Mia had a closet with much more room and a sense of accomplishment. She stepped back to admire her efforts. That was when she noticed the box.
It was a little metal box, the kind you might use to store items like passports or rarely used pieces of jewelry. She stared at it for a while, trying to remember why she owned it. But she drew a blank. She raised herself up on her toes, stretching her arm as far as she could reach until she could poke the corner of the box with one fingertip. Slowly, an inch at a time, she pushed the box to the edge of the shelf until she could lift it down. It was lighter than she’d expected.
Mia turned the rectangular box in her hands. It was smaller than a shirt box but thicker, and it required a key. “Shoot.” She set it down on the bed and pushed on the silver release button, hoping that she’d neglected to lock the box the last time she’d used it. No such luck.
“Where would I put a key?” She scanned the room.
It wasn’t in any of her dresser drawers—she used them daily, and she’d never noticed it before. She checked in her jewelry box, sifted through the powders in her makeup case and felt underneath her mattress. The search came up empty. Mia was just about to try to break into it with a hammer and screwdriver when she heard the lock on the door turn. Gray was back.
She took the box and hid it back where she’d found it, pushing it toward the back of the closet shelf where Gray was less likely to notice it, even if he did look. Then she closed the closet, grabbed the large trash bag in which she’d stowed her charitable donations and headed out to greet Gray. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself,” he said, dropping his keys onto the key rack. “Want to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
She hoisted the bag onto her shoulder and made a dash for the door, but Gray
put out his arm to stop her. “Where are you going?”
“Just down the block. I have some clothes I want to donate. I’ve been cleaning out my closet.”
He surveyed the apartment. “It looks like you’ve been cleaning everything out.”
“I haven’t done it in a while. It feels good to organize.”
“I’ll bet.” But he didn’t sound as if he believed her. He was eyeing her in a way that made her suspect he was evaluating her on some level, perhaps making a mental checklist of all the ways she was acting crazy.
She released a sigh and reached for the doorknob. “I don’t want to stand here and get funny looks from you. I’ll be back in a few.”
She’d been hoping his face would relax, but it grew darker and more serious, and he kept his arm up to block her way. “We need to talk. About what D’Augostino said.”
Something in his tone shifted the floor out from beneath her heart. She waved the remark off. “That, back there? That was nothing. I don’t care.”
“I do.”
He reached over and gently pried the trash bag from her fingers. Setting it down on the floor, he stepped closer and kissed her hand. “I’m sorry, Mia.”
The words brought tears bubbling to the surface. All this time she’d been exerting her energy cleaning, and she hadn’t been aware of the burst of pain in the center of her chest. She managed to blink back the tears. “I’m tired of people feeling sorry for me. I’m not made of glass.”
“No, you’re definitely not.” He intertwined her fingers with his and pulled her closer. “And I’m not feeling sorry for you. I’m feeling sorry for what I did to you. I invited you to get some answers from Joe, and the discussion devolved into personal matters. It shouldn’t have.”
“What does he know about us?”
“Only what he’s pieced together. I haven’t told anyone at the station about it.”
“Is that because you still consider me a suspect in the deaths of those Globe reporters?”
Gray started, loosening his grip on her slightly. “No. I just don’t want complications. I want to make sure that the time is right.”
She pulled her hand back from his. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea. You and me, I mean. Maybe you’re not ready for this.”
“It’s complicated with the Globe case—you know that.”
“Do you think I had something to do with those crimes?”
“Of course not, but it takes more than me saying that you’re innocent of those crimes for others to believe the same.”
She reached up to run her fingers through her hair, which felt wavy and knotted in the heat of the summer afternoon. “You’ve been practically living with me, and yet we have to hide our relationship. I’m not getting a lot of warm and fuzzy feelings about our future right now.”
He took a step closer and brought her hand up to cover his heart. He pressed her hand to his chest and Mia felt the steady rhythm of the muscle below. “You don’t know what you do to me, Mia. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t deny how I feel.”
“The hiding feels like denial,” she said. “What are we, anyway?”
For the briefest moment, a flash like pain shot across his face. “We’re in some kind of a relationship. You know that.”
Some kind of a relationship. She wondered what that meant in Gray’s world. “I’m in some kind of a relationship with my landlord and with my students and with the prison guards who watch me when I meet with psychotic criminals. I’m in some kind of relationship with lots and lots of people, Gray.”
“I can’t exactly announce...us.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall as if avoiding her words. “But I wish you’d trust me the way I trust you. I wish you’d understand that I’m a person who isn’t going anywhere. I just need to handle this my way.”
“Everything is always your way,” she whispered.
“Sometimes you don’t mind that.”
Mia paused as the realization crossed her. He was the only one who believed in her innocence, and right now, at this moment, he was risking everything for her. She’d never asked him to do that. If his colleagues found out about their relationship, then it was only a matter of time before his superiors learned the truth, and that could spell the end of his career.
Her stomach lurched. He was a good man, and he deserved better. Whatever they were, it couldn’t be forever. She thought of him packing up his office in disgrace, forced to leave the career he loved, all because of some misguided loyalty to her. That couldn’t happen. There were too many people counting on him.
She swallowed. “You love your job.” Her throat closed around the words. “I understand that. I also understand that you don’t want to jeopardize your position by announcing that you’re in a relationship with a person of interest in one of your cases. You can’t.”
“It’s not that—”
“Of course it is. And you’re right not to tell them, because whatever is happening between us is doomed. D’Augostino is already figuring it out. This has to end.” Mia braced herself. She thought about him walking out that door, never looking back. What would her future be? She’d be alone, as usual. But there was a certain dignity in being alone, and in not having anyone deny or reject you. “People leave me,” she said. “My parents, my sister. None of my boyfriends has ever amounted to much. I’ve gotten used to being alone. You should leave, too. If you care about your career, you have to leave.”
“I told you I’m not going to leave you.” Gray’s face was lined with emotion she couldn’t read.
“I believe you. That’s why I’m asking you to go. I can’t be with you. Not like this.”
“Please—”
“I never asked you to do this,” she said. “I could never live with myself if you lost everything.”
She held her breath while she watched him digest her words, waiting for him to tell her that she had it wrong, that she meant more than his job, that he was her forever person. But when the seconds dragged on, her heart climbed to her throat, and she remembered how he’d told her it was impossible to ever truly know someone. He was wrong, though, because when she asked him to leave, hadn’t she known that he’d listen?
“Mia.”
He saddled her name with regret and disappointment, and she saw in his pained expression the torment he was feeling because he knew she was right. He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to. There was too much at stake for him to love her.
She swallowed the tears that threatened to erupt. “I know,” she said.
He nodded, staring at the floor, then went around the apartment packing his things. He emerged from the bedroom only minutes later, his duffel bag stuffed with the evidence he’d ever been there. She wondered if she would later walk around her apartment pinching herself and asking if there had ever been a “them” at all. While she was thinking, he opened the door, walked through it and closed it behind him. She didn’t hear his footsteps as he headed toward the staircase.
Funny how so many people she loved could vanish without a trace.
* * *
Gray lay on his bed, bathed in moonlight, staring at the empty walls. He’d been in this apartment for over a year now—you’d think he’d have found the time to hang some artwork. Then again, decorating meant he planned to stay in this box of an apartment that was too small for anyone else to live in. Was that it? Did he equate settling in this apartment to staying single?
He rolled onto his side and tucked the pillow beneath his head. He was beginning to sound like a certain psychologist, and it didn’t suit his training. Besides, they were through. There was no need for him to dwell on it.
He kicked off his sheets. He should have bought a better air conditioner. The night was sweltering and he couldn’t sleep. Or maybe it was that his mind was humming. Thoughts of Mia. Thoughts of them together. Thoughts of them apart. And every single thought induced a physical pain in his chest. He’d never cared about anyone else the way he cared about Mia. It
wasn’t even a question of her guilt or innocence in the Watkinson shooting. Of course Mia was innocent. She was too gentle to kill the bugs that crept into her home and preferred to let them out the window. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally.
Gray bunched the pillow and turned again. The problem was, he was too busy at work. He still didn’t know what had happened to Lena or the Globe reporters, and those cases weighed heavily on him. Didn’t he read something scathing in the paper almost daily about his lack of progress on the murders? He could hardly be expected to focus on a relationship right now, and so he’d taken her invitation to leave.
He stretched and yawned. He no longer believed his own excuses. The problem with Mia was that looking at her reminded him that he’d failed her. He’d promised her justice—for her and for her sister—and he had no answers. When she’d asked him to leave, what should he have done? Begged her to reconsider? She was right. How could he be with someone who reminded him of how he’d fallen short? Every time he woke to the sound of her crying in her sleep, he thought about how helpless he was to comfort her. She deserved better.
He still wanted her, and, man, did that make him feel selfish. He still desired her. He loved her. But in order to be with her, he needed to fix her. As it was, he was part of the problem.
He drifted off to sleep but woke early the next morning. He showered and dressed and was pleased that the traffic to work was light. He was barely thinking of Mia when he unlocked his office, turned on his lights and opened his blinds. Then Morrison darkened his doorway. “Sir? We had a development overnight.”
Gray powered on his computer. “Good morning, Officer Morrison.”
The young officer blinked at him. “Good morning, sir.” He glanced from right to left before continuing. “We had a development overnight, sir.”
“What kind of a development?”
“Routine traffic stop early this morning brought in a suspect in the Globe reporter killings.”
Gray froze in place, leaning over his desk, one hand reaching for a pen. “What? What happened?”
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