"What do you have?" Hank asked, sighing heavily as he held out his hand for the file in Tristan's hand.
"It might not be anything," Tristan said, handing over the file before taking the seat next to hers.
"But you don't think so," Hank said, opening the file.
"No, I think all the cases are connected," Tristan said, leaning back in his chair and looking relaxed while she sat there trying not to fidget. "If you'll look over my notes, you'll see that all fifty-eight of the women I've selected for this were last seen near restaurant supply stores or high class restaurants."
"How far back does this go?" Hank asked, dropping his gaze to the folder.
"Twenty-two years."
"No bodies?" Hank asked as he continued to look over Tristan's notes.
"No, and not one of them has been seen since. No calls, letters, or sightings."
"Have you contacted the detectives on these cases?"
"Yes."
"And?"
Tristan ran a hand through his neatly combed hair, sighing heavily. "They have no new leads and they don't have the manpower to look into this."
"Neither do we," Hank said with real regret in his tone. "We're backed up as it is, Tristan."
"My main focus is on my cases, Hank, but I really think this deserves some attention as well."
Hank nodded as he closed the file and handed it back to Tristan. "Just make sure that you don't fall behind. Let me know if you find anything that we can use."
Tristan took the file back, not looking all that surprised, she noticed. "What did you need to talk to us about, Hank?" Tristan asked casually with absolutely no fear as he met her father's gaze head on.
"You're not meeting the requirements of our agreement," her father said, surprising her. She couldn't help but sag a little in relief that she wasn't about to get chewed out in front of Tristan. It also meant that she could still speak to her father about everything. She didn't want him hearing about what happened from someone else. She wasn't a child and had no plans of trying to hide what happened from her father or lying about it. It was just a little awkward talking to her father about what happened. She doubted many people eagerly spoke to their parents about their sexual escapades.
"I've been cleared medically," Tristan pointed out.
"Yes," Hank said, sighing as he picked up a clipboard and looked it over. "You do realize that I'm not buying this bullshit sign off, right?" he asked, looking up to meet Tristan's eyes and she could have sworn her father looked amused.
"They signed off, Hank. That's all that's required for me to return back to work," Tristan pointed out, still holding her father's gaze.
"Uh huh, care to tell me how they went from suggesting extending light duty as well as physical therapy and hinting at the need for a second surgery one day and the next signing you off and repeatedly stating in your file that you didn't need to go back there ever again?"
"The miracle of modern science," Tristan said with a straight face as she struggled not to smile.
"Then explain why they stated several times that if you have any further problems that you should be seen, but by someone else? In fact, they went as far as to attach the contact information for fifty other doctors. Now why do you think they did that?" Hank asked as he leaned back in his chair, studying Tristan.
The corner of Tristan's lips twitched, but he said nothing. Finally her father sighed heavily as he ran his hands down his face. "You may have gotten out of the medical requirements, but you still need to complete your therapy sessions before I can release you from medical," Hank pointed out.
Tristan's lips pressed into a firm line at that announcement. "I did the required therapy," he said evenly.
Hank shrugged. "You have more."
"You can't do that," Tristan said, sounding pissed.
"Yes, I can," her father said without any hesitation. "You will complete the group therapy sessions before you’ll be allowed to resume the rest of your duties," her father said and she just barely stopped herself from pointing out that he already had when her father's gaze shifted to her. "And you will start doing the job you were hired for or I'm going to have to let you go until you get your degree."
"W-what?" she asked, a little more than stunned. "I have been doing my job."
"No, you haven't. You were hired to type, but he's been doing his own typing," Hank said, gesturing lazily to Tristan. "You were also hired to drive him, but again, he's been doing that. If you can't do your job, Marty, then I'm afraid that I'm going to have to let you go."
She’d just bought a new car. Well, new to her, to anyone else it was an overpriced piece of crap, but it got her from point A to point B and back so she was happy. If he fired her, she wouldn't have money to pay for her insurance, gas, her phone, or anything for that matter. She'd have to dip into her savings and she didn't want to do that since it meant that she'd have to put off getting her independence for a while longer.
If she lost this job she'd have to take another dead-end minimum wage job and she could not afford to do that. She needed this job. If she lost it maybe she could-
"She is doing her job," Tristan said, shocking the ever-living hell out of her. She'd expected him to agree with Hank that she wasn't doing her job so that he could finally get rid of her. "She's created a more efficient database, making it easier to put in information and cutting down half the time needed for paperwork. She's very efficient and works fast, Hank. I think it would be a waste of her talents if you didn't put her in the secretary pool so that she could help the rest of the department," he said casually while she sat there simmering.
That sneaky son of a bi-
"She already has a job," Hank said with a long-suffering sigh. "She's supposed to be your assistant right now."
Tristan shrugged. "I don't need an assistant."
"That's too bad, because you've got one," Hank said firmly as he leveled a hard look on both of them. "I don't know what's going on here and I don't care. I need you released from medical-"
"I would be if you didn't impose this bullshit on me," Tristan said, cutting her father off. "I did what was required by the Department and I should be back at full status and we both know it. Making me go to group therapy is asinine, Hank. I don't need it or have a problem."
"You don't think so?" her father mused, looking amused for some godforsaken reason.
"No," Tristan said evenly.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!"
"Hmm," her father made the noncommittal sound as he studied Tristan. "Perhaps we should ask Marty what she thinks. If I'm wrong and she agrees with you, then I'll take away the requirement."
Almost immediately she had two sets of eyes focused on her, one looking amused while the other was glaring a silent warning. Well, this was interesting. Why exactly did her father think that he needed more therapy, correction, group therapy? More importantly, why he thought that she was qualified to voice an opinion on the matter was beyond her. Her focus wasn't on clinical psychology, but on criminal and for all his faults Tristan was not a criminal.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. Your answer won’t affect your job one way or the other," her father promised, but the look in Tristan's angry emerald eyes told a completely different story. If she agreed with her father, Tristan would make her life a living hell.
Perhaps she should tactfully excuse herself from this one. Working with him was hard enough. She didn't want to make things worse. She needed this job and Tristan lived for the job. Maybe it would be best if-
"Do you think that Tristan has an anger management problem?" her father asked, leaving her speechless.
Did she think that Tristan had an anger management problem? For a moment she actually considered having her father committed for asking something that would be crystal clear to a blind man. The man had a short fuse and a temper that would scare the devil.
Then again, it really wasn't her place and she shouldn't get involved. She opened her mouth to explain exactly that when sh
e caught Tristan's eyes and watched as he mouthed the words, "Don't even think about it."
So, of course she did what she thought was right.
"Why yes, yes, I believe that he does have a bit of an anger problem," she said sweetly as she did her best to appear innocent.
Her father smiled triumphantly as Tristan let out a very low, but sexy growl that promised all sorts of revenge, but she didn't care. This opportunity to put Tristan in his place was just too good to pass up. Right now he could make her life a living hell and it would be well worth it.
"There you have it. I suggest that you get started on your sessions. There's a time limit on this and luckily enough for you there's a meeting tonight," her father said as he handed her a piece of paper.
She took it, frowning. "What's this?" she asked, looking down at the paper, noting the letterhead from the community center with a list of times and room numbers.
"That would be the schedule for his group meetings. Your new job is to drive him there at least once a day for the next two weeks," he said in a tone that she knew better than to argue with.
Still.....
"How exactly do you suggest I go about forcing someone into a car who has at least six inches and a hundred pounds on me?" she asked, genuinely curious. Was he going to let her carry a stun gun or something? Otherwise she really didn't see this little plan of his working.
"He'll go," her father said with a shrug as he stood up.
"Or what?" Tristan asked evenly as he too got to his feet. She couldn't help but wonder the same thing as she stood up and moved to leave.
"Or else you’ll go back on full medical until you complete all of your therapy sessions," her father said before looking at her.
"Do you want to speak with me?" she asked, glad that she sounded so damn casual about the whole thing. She'd never been comfortable talking to her dad about boys, never mind sex.
Then again, her father had been just as nervous as her if not more so during their little chat about the birds and the bees. It hadn’t mattered how uncomfortable the whole thing made him, he’d always taken his responsibility to talk with her about sex seriously. Granted, she couldn't remember one single conversation about sex that hadn’t ended with him hyperventilating and needing a few aspirin or a six-pack of beer. When it came time for the woman talk though he’d pushed that responsibility off onto Beth after the rather frightening hour and a half of questions she’d thrown at him. He'd tried to answer every single one of them as best as he could, but even she could tell at nine years old that he’d been in over his head.
"Only if you feel there's something you want to talk to me about," Hank said as he looked pointedly at Tristan.
Was there? She followed her father's gaze and wasn't too surprised to find Tristan watching her. If they hadn't screwed each other over, she might have said maybe, but the man clearly didn’t want to be with her and she'd have to be a moron to keep missing the signs.
"No, there's nothing to talk about," she said as she turned to leave, wishing that wasn't the case. She also wished that she wasn't in love with a man who haunted her dreams and couldn’t care less about her.
Chapter 17
"Wow, what a bitch," the blonde airhead, as he now thought of her, said as Marty stormed past him and snatched the keys out of his hand.
She hit the button on the keychain to unlock the car and climbed in, but not before throwing him a look that dared him to bitch about her driving. He bit his tongue as he walked around the car and made his way to the passenger side. Unfortunately, he was forced to walk through the two dead, annoying women and received a shock of cold dread that surged through his body and into his bones before it abruptly disappeared.
He hated that feeling. It was pure terror, crawling down his spine and he'd always despised it, especially when he’d been a child. When he was a toddler, he would cry inconsolably for hours after the unpleasant experience while his birth parents were left frustrated and clueless on how to calm him down. It hadn’t helped matters that they'd barely been out of high school when they’d had him. Their story was typical, but the results weren't.
They weren't ready to handle a kid, never mind a kid like him. He couldn't imagine dealing with a young child who cried for hours on end, would freak out over everything, flip out if he went anywhere near cemeteries, nursing homes, or hospitals. If that wasn't bad enough, he was constantly getting hurt. Living with him must have been stressful and he couldn't say that he blamed his parents for what they’d done.
"Hey, shouldn't you be helping us?" the brunette demanded as she tried to climb in the car only to discover that her foot went right through the floor.
"What the hell?" the blond gasped.
He of course sighed with satisfaction as he got comfortable in his seat. Driving provided him with a much needed break. It was the reason why he’d always loved going for long drives. It was the one place where he could find some peace. The only spirit that could accompany him was Shayne, but then again, the man wasn't really a spirit.
"I need to make a quick stop before we go deal with your anger issues," Marty said distractedly as she pulled out of the parking lot.
"I don't have anger issues," Tristan bit out tightly.
"Uh huh, then what would you call it?" she asked, shooting him a curious look before she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the busy street.
He pursed his lips up in thought before he said, "Expressing my displeasure with everything and everyone in an efficient manner."
"By scaring the living hell out of everyone?" she asked in disbelief.
"It is the most efficient way," he mused, chuckling when she rolled her eyes, but he didn't miss the little smile that she tried to hide as she looked away.
"Where are we going?" he asked, wondering if this bullshit Hank threw at them at the last minute had ruined her plans for the night. It actually made him feel kind of bad, until he wondered if she had a date planned for tonight. Then he didn't feel so bad about wrecking her plans. She shouldn't be seeing any other guys when she was-
She wasn't his and she never would be, he reminded himself. The reminder that she would never be his made his chest ache. Was he really supposed to live without this woman? he wondered as he studied her. She was beautiful, smart, funny as hell, and made him happy.
Could he really live without her?
Allowing her into his life would be a risk, a risk that he wasn't sure he was ready for, but if he didn't risk everything he would lose her. Having her in his life would mean being more careful and never allowing his guard down when she was around. What if she moved in or they got married? He'd have to be careful twenty-four seven about what he said or how he acted so that she didn't catch him talking to Shayne or any spirit that decided to track his ass down.
Granted, it would be a lot of work, but he'd done it before when he’d lived with his family. It had been stressful to keep up the pretense of being normal for his family and, as much as he loved them, it had been a huge weight off his shoulders when he finally moved out on his own and could let his guard down. Could he do it again for Marty?
Yes, he could, he suddenly realized. For her, he would do anything. It would be a lot of work and he wouldn't be allowed to fully relax when she was around, but it would be worth it. If he could have Marty in his life and not have to watch as some other asshole took his place, he would gladly do whatever it took. He'd work his ass off for the rest of his life to make her happy if she gave him the chance.
"Why are you smiling?" Marty asked as she parked the car.
He couldn't help but smile. Up until this point he'd never allowed himself to hope for anything more with her. Even this weekend when things had gotten out of control, he hadn't truly allowed himself to think that he could have her. He'd always feared that he'd somehow give himself away, but as long as he was careful, really fucking careful, he should be able to pull this off. He'd do anything so that he didn't have to live without her. He wanted to take her into his arms
and kiss her and hold her as he told her how much he loved her, how he'd always loved her, but now wasn't the time.
She was angry at him and probably for good reason. He may have been an asshole over the past couple of weeks. There would probably be groveling involved when he convinced her to give him a chance and he didn't want to do that in a-
"What are we doing here?" he asked, looking around the parking lot only to discover to his horror that they were at a mini mall.
Marty sighed heavily as she grabbed her small black purse and opened her door. "I'm starving and you're buying me dinner."
He looked at his watch and shrugged. They had a good forty-five minutes before he had to go to the meeting and convince the therapist that it would be in his best interest to sign off on his sheet and pretend that he met the new requirements. Hopefully it would only take ten minutes out of his night so that he could focus on Marty, because no matter what, she would be his before this night was over.
"What are you in the mood for?" he asked as he joined her in front of his car. Before she could drop his keys in her purse, he deftly snatched them and pocketed them, pointedly ignoring her adorable murderous glare. She really was rather pretty when she was contemplating manslaughter, he mused as he took her hand into his and led her over to Jason's BBQ Shack without waiting for an answer.
Not that he really needed one. Marty loved BBQ, always had and probably always would. When they were kids she'd show up at his house within five minutes of the grill being started, ready to dig in. It hadn’t mattered if she’d already eaten, was grounded, playing, or was in the middle of eating with her father, if Marty smelled BBQ she came running. He secretly suspected that his parents made sure to fire up the grill several times a week during good weather just to give Marty and her father an excuse to come over and enjoy a home cooked meal with them.
Hank was a great father and a hell of a man, but he sucked at cooking so he left that particular chore on Marty's shoulders when she was barely big enough to reach the cabinets without that aid of a chair. Of course, his mother sent over casseroles and invited them over for practically every meal, but Hank was a stubborn man and hated charity. He'd accept a few meals a week to give Marty a break and because honestly, her cooking skills had been severely limited when she’d first started out. Still, the man was determined to make a real home for Marty and that meant the two of them eating alone like a family most of the time.
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