“Nope,” Tanner answered.
“You two workin’ any jobs together?”
“Yep.”
Garrett drew in a breath and then asked the question he needed answered right or he’d be going apeshit on his brother-in-law.
“One of those jobs gotta do with a man called Jaden Cutler?”
“Nope. Never heard of him.”
Garrett relaxed. Slightly.
Jaden Cutler was Cher’s neighbor.
Then he asked about the owner of the GT. “How about Robert Paxton?”
“Never heard of him either.”
Good.
“Been lookin’ for Ryker for a coupla hours, big man,” Garrett told Tanner. “Called him twice. He’s not pickin’ up. He’s not at any of his known hangouts. Got any advice on where I can find him or what he might be doin’?”
“You wanna tell me why you’re lookin’ for him?” Tanner asked.
That was when Garrett gave him what he knew from what he’d run that day at the station about Cher’s neighbor and his bud in the GT, some of which Cher had confirmed that night.
“Jaden Cutler’s got a rap sheet about fifteen pages long. Assault. Theft. Possession with intent. His known associates read like a who’s who of the scum of Hendricks and Marion counties, but he’s new to the ’burg. He’s done community service. He’s also done six months for a B and E. Got off on a technicality on another arrest when an IMPD officer accidentally contaminated some evidence. Got off on yet another charge when a witness recanted their testimony. And he’s now livin’ two doors down from Cher and Ethan.”
“Fuckin’ shit,” Tanner clipped.
“Robert Paxton visited Cutler Friday night in his GT-R that probably costs as much as Cutler’s rental house,” Garrett continued. “Paxton’s rap sheet isn’t as long, but with what’s on it, it just means he’s smarter than Cutler about gettin’ caught. He’s not ’burg related at all, until now. All his activity has been in Marion County. Made a coupla calls to some of my boys in IMPD and both names are well-known in Indy. Both of them also got a known associate. A man someone we know knows real well: Carlito Gutierrez.”
“Fuckin’ shit,” Tanner bit out, and Garrett could tell he was on the move, probably to get out of hearing distance of Rocky.
“Ryker’s got somethin’ workin’ in regards to Cutler,” Garrett shared. “I know this because I walked into J&J’s tonight to hear Cher rippin’ into Ryan, who Ryker tagged to surveil Cutler’s place. Cher saw him doin’ it and lost her mind. Ryker’s also warned Cher to steer clear of Cutler, but she’s heard Cutler talkin’ about Carlito. She might be steerin’ clear, but, until tonight, she didn’t tell me Ryker gave her that warning and Cutler isn’t feelin’ like steerin’ clear of her. He’s asked her out.”
“Even if this is all a surprise, Garrett, gotta say none of it is actually a surprise. As stupid as Ryan is, he’s a genius at monitoring and surveillance. If Ryker’s got a job he wants done, he’s gonna go cheap and he’s gonna get the best he can for bottom dollar, which is part of why Ryan is so stupid, seein’ as the guy’s got the talent to charge a fuckuva lot more. And, brother, it’s ’burg lore that Ryker and Carlito got a beef.”
“It absolutely is,” Garrett agreed. “Problem with that is, no one knows how that beef started, which means no one knows why it’s so strong, it’s lasted for years. Those two give each other a wide berth, Tanner, and those two don’t give anyone a wide berth.”
“I’ll have a conversation with Ryker,” Tanner said.
“No, brother, I’ll have a conversation with Ryker.”
“Okay, Merry, give you that and set it up, but I’m gonna be there.”
He could do it, and to keep his shit sharp, he should.
“Set it up soon,” he agreed.
“On it.”
“Right,” Garrett muttered, pushing away from his truck to head to the driver’s side door. “Not findin’ Ryker, so gotta go have another chat with my woman.”
“Right. Later, man. I’ll call when I touch base with Ryker.”
“Thanks, Tanner. Later.”
They disconnected and Garrett swung up into the cab of his truck. He drove to J&J’s. He parked. And he hit the bar to see Feb still there but Colt gone, likely at home, looking after their boy. Ryan was also gone. Business had picked up, but on a Monday night, not by much.
Feb was clearing glasses at the pool area.
Cher was behind the bar.
Garrett kept his eyes to her as he walked the bar and watched her walk it too.
He got to the end and slid his ass on the stool next to Colt’s empty one.
“Beer or whisky, baby?” she asked quietly.
“Beer,” he answered.
She went to the fridge and nabbed a bottle of his favorite brew.
She uncapped it, set it in front of him, and leaned into her forearms on the bar.
“Find Ryker?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“That must be why you don’t have blood on your clothes.”
He grinned at her before he took a slug of the beer and lowered the bottle to the bar.
It was then he gave it to her.
“I don’t like this. I don’t like that guy. Seen him twice when I’ve been comin’ or goin’ to your place, and even before knowin’ he’s got business that links him to Carlito, didn’t like the feel of him. So, you got somethin’ you got two nights to chew on, Cherie. Either I start hangin’ at your pad a whole lot more, that bein’ me bein’ there when you and Ethan are there as much as I can be, including spending the night, or you and Ethan have a long-term sleepover at my condo.”
Her eyes went huge before she leaned deeper into her forearms.
“Honey, the dude is my neighbor. He might be into bad shit, but he’s just my neighbor. You think that might be a bit of an overreaction?”
“I got a bad feeling, sweetheart.”
“And I got a kid, Merry. It wouldn’t be too smart to give Ethan the wrong messages about stuff like that, and I mean that in a lot of ways. It’s too damned fast, for one. And he digs you and we’re just startin’ out. If it doesn’t work, we all crash and burn.”
“You don’t think that crossed my mind?”
Cher shut her mouth.
“Two days, Cherie,” he said softly. “Think about it. You can say no. I just won’t like it.”
It took her a few beats, but she finally nodded.
The lights were dim. It was a bar.
But Garrett still saw the look in her eyes.
“Takin’ care of me,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” he whispered back.
“Takin’ care of my kid.”
He didn’t reply.
She reached out a hand and wrapped her fingers around his forearm.
He twisted his arm and moved it so he could wrap his fingers around hers.
“You kiss my hand in J&J’s, you’re gonna deliver a hit to my rep as the ’burg’s resident tough chick,” she warned.
He hadn’t intended to kiss her hand.
When she was done talking, he lifted her hand and kissed it.
“Aw, that’s sweet,” Feb declared as she walked behind him to go around to the back of the bar.
Cher rolled her eyes.
Merry grinned.
The front door opened and she looked over her shoulder toward it before she pulled her hand from his.
But she didn’t do that until after she gave his fingers a brief squeeze.
“Be back,” she murmured.
He lifted his chin.
As Feb transferred spent glasses to the sink and spent bottles to the bin, Cher moved down the bar and called out to the new patrons, “Yo.”
The ’burg’s resident tough chick.
It was true. She’d taken a beating and there she was, just keeping on keeping on.
But she wasn’t made of steel.
And Garrett didn’t lie.
He had a bad feeling.
He
took another tug from his beer and watched Cher serve the newcomers a couple of drafts, trying to assess if he was actually overreacting due to her history, his history, or if his gut was telling him his tough chick was facing a viable threat.
He watched her smile as she pocketed her tips and moved back his way, making eye contact with other folks who had asses to stools to see if they were good.
She had to stop to mix a drink.
And while she did, Garrett decided he didn’t give a fuck if it was an overreaction or if his gut spoke true.
With her history and his, he hoped she picked door one or door two, either of them meaning Garrett had access so he could look after Cher and Ethan.
Because he didn’t want to take any chances.
Chapter Eighteen
It’s Just Merry
Garrett
Early Wednesday Morning
Garrett woke up to his phone ringing.
On his stomach, alone in his bed, he reached a hand to his nightstand and tagged it.
He looked at the cracked screen, made another mental note to go out and get a new one, and took the call.
“Yo, Mike,” he greeted.
“Sorry, man. Call out.” Mike sounded just as drowsy as Garrett, meaning he’d been woken too. “Homicide.”
Fuck.
Garrett pushed up and reached out to his light.
Homicides in the ’burg were rare.
Death happened all the time. Accidents. Disease. Old age. Suicide.
But homicide, not so much.
The ’burg was too small to have units dedicated to specific crimes. This meant the ’burg’s detectives bought cases on rotation no matter what they were.
Garrett had been on the job a while. All the men in the bullpen had been on the job a while.
But he felt it was safe to say none of them had been on the job long enough where they took a homicide in stride.
It wasn’t the gruesomeness of death.
It was that his job was not the kind of job that at the end of the day, you were filled with joy. Or energy. Or anything.
Except, if you closed a case, you got a high off of your part in bringing justice.
Luckily, those highs were huge and they made the job worth it.
Homicide didn’t give you that. Not ever. Not even if you caught the killer.
It was too final. There was no going back. No coping.
It was just done.
The bad guy had to be caught. He had to be punished. You busted your ass more than any case you had to see to that.
But the only thing a successful takedown offered was closure to those left behind.
And that didn’t mean shit.
“Meet you at the scene,” he muttered unenthusiastically.
“Text you where,” Mike replied in the same tone.
“Right.”
“Later.”
They disconnected and Garrett’s phone sounded again the second his feet hit the floor as he pulled his ass out of bed.
He looked at Mike’s text and texted back his ETA considering shower time, dressing, and getting to the location.
He was there before Mike even though Mike’s house was closer. Then again, Garrett didn’t have a woman in his bed to slow things down, even for a morning kiss.
This reminded him that day was the day Cher’s time was up on making a decision.
Ryker was MIA. Even Tanner couldn’t get a lock on him.
This did not make Garrett happy and it made Tanner worried.
Without Ryker to explain, none of them had any idea what Jaden Cutler had to do with Carlito Gutierrez—Ryker being their usual informant on all things Carlito—or what Robert Paxton had to do with either of them.
And Colt having a conversation with Ryan the day before didn’t shed any light on the situation either. Ryan had been on the job for approximately two hours before Cher spotted him. He’d planted his bugs but hadn’t heard anything since Cutler hadn’t returned home.
A mystery.
And cops didn’t like mysteries.
But all this going down on Cher’s street, Garrett really didn’t like this particular mystery.
He approached the address Mike texted and saw uniforms at the scene, crime tape already up. Marty, plus Marty’s new partner (a rookie), Abe, and Adam were milling around. Ellen, Adam’s partner, wasn’t, which meant she was likely talking to a witness somewhere.
It was early. School and work traffic hadn’t even started, so the scene was deserted except for police presence.
And the scene was right at the mouth of a cul-de-sac in a lower-middle-income development that had been so hard hit by the recession the country was just pulling itself out of, half the houses in the development were abandoned, and they looked it, or they were for sale, and that didn’t look much better.
Empty was empty. There was a feel to it, and no matter what it was that was empty, it didn’t feel good.
Garrett parked, got out, gave a chin lift to Adam and Abe, then moved toward Marty, who had seniority over all the uniforms, and he was closer to a blue Ford Fiesta, the lone car parked on the street. Also the scene of the crime.
“ME’s on his way,” Marty announced when Garrett got near. “Ellen’s inside with the lady who called it in. Mike comin’?”
“Should be here soon,” Garrett muttered, his eyes on the driver’s side of the car. “Fuck,” he whispered.
It was a woman.
He hated homicide because he was a human being.
But he hated it worse when it was a woman.
This one young. Too fucking young.
Then again, they always were.
“Far’s I can see, she took three. The one to the throat did it, though,” Marty said.
He was right. She had a bullet hole in her thigh, one in her chest, but the one in her throat had left a stream of blood down her chest—so much blood, it had pooled in her lap.
GSWs meant blood, obviously, but not that much blood.
The shooter hit an artery.
Good news, she bled out in seconds.
Bad news, she bled out at all.
Shooter also did her from above. She was a mess, but he could see the angle of all the entry wounds. She was in the car, the shooter either standing outside it and he was tall, or he’d shot down from another vehicle.
Her seatbelt was on, but her car was wheels to the curb like she’d parked, not like she’d been done on the go.
“Shot through the window,” Garrett muttered, observing the glass littering her hair and clothes.
“Yup,” Marty said.
His eyes scanned the interior of the car and Garrett saw her purse on the floor, stuff that was supposed to be in it not, since it was on the floor and on the passenger seat. He also saw the key in the ignition.
That meant she hadn’t had time to get the belt off. Window up, she hadn’t rolled it down to chat with someone she knew in the early morning dark.
Either she was coming to this location or going, but the purse told him whichever way it was, she was doing it in a hurry. Either she threw the purse in and the shit inside scattered or she was driving fast and erratically and the shit inside scattered.
Garrett heard a car approach and twisted to see Mike pulling up.
He lifted a hand to Mike and turned back to Marty.
“Got an ID?”
“Yup, though haven’t touched anything,” Marty told him. He jerked his head to the house the Fiesta was parked in front of. “Woman in there is her sister. Says vic’s name is Wendy Derian. Didn’t get more from her ’cause she was freakin’ out, shoutin’, carryin’ on. Ellen’s with her, hopefully calmin’ her down.”
“You catch anything from her?”
Marty shook his head. “Nope. Except a lot of cursing and ‘I knew its.’”
Garrett felt his spine straighten. “‘I knew it?’”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m hopin’ Ellen’s calmin’ her down so she can explain what she knew.”
&n
bsp; “Fuck, a woman,” Mike said as he approached.
Garrett looked to him to see his partner’s eyes on the car.
“Sister’s inside, Mike. She called it in. Take in what you gotta take in, then we’ll go talk to her,” Garrett said.
Mike nodded, moved closer to the car, and Garrett gave his attention back to Marty.
“Crime scene comin’?” he asked.
“Yup.”
“Neighborhood’s gonna wake up. Not much population but word travels. Might be a good idea to get another cruiser out here,” Garrett instructed.
Marty nodded and turned to Abe. “Yo. Get dispatch to send another cruiser.”
“Gotcha,” Abe replied quickly, immediately jogging to their vehicle, having been keeping his distance from the Fiesta.
Garrett eyed Abe a beat, trying to remember when he started and what had gone down since.
His first homicide.
Abe was a gung-ho guy. Not even twenty-four years old and raring to go. Couldn’t wait to put his mark on beating back crime in the ’burg. Was always volunteering for everything, was there early for his shift, happy to work late. Marty thought he was hilarious, which was Marty’s way of not finding him annoying.
He was not gung-ho now. With a dead woman in a Ford Fiesta, he was subdued, watchful, quiet, and helpful.
That was what homicide did to a rookie. Knocked the cocky superhero shit right out of you.
“When he’s done callin’ that in, Marty,” Garrett said quietly to the veteran cop. “Might be a good idea you start him canvassing. See if anyone saw anything. Heard anything.”
Marty nodded.
“I’m good,” Mike said. “Let’s go in.”
Garrett and Mike moved to round the Fiesta, both of them turning their head to watch as the ME van pulled up.
They didn’t stop walking. They made it to the door of the house, Garrett knocking even as he looked around the cul-de-sac.
One house, windows boarded up. One house, lawn hadn’t been mowed all summer, obviously deserted, bank notices of foreclosure still posted to the door. One house in decent shape, for sale sign out in front of it.
This house, the only one occupied.
Ellen opened the door, jerked her head to the side to indicate they should come in, but she didn’t speak.
Garrett opened the storm and he and Mike went through, following Ellen into the living room.
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