Black Heart

by R. L. Mathewson

  "You're a bad man, Detective Black!" she cried out in that annoying voice of hers as she hurried past them and practically ran out of the building.

  "Why am I such a loser?" a man yelled as he raced past them, burying his face in his hands as he sobbed hysterically. She looked up at Tristan who smiled down at her, acting as if a man hadn't just run past him screaming and crying at the top of his lungs.

  "What was that about?" she asked with forced casualness as yet another man ran past them, this time sobbing into his phone. When he spotted Tristan, he stumbled to a halt and just as suddenly turned around and ran the other way.

  "I have no idea what you're talking about," Tristan said with a straight face and heaven help her, but it took everything she had not to smile.

  "Why don't we stop by the coffee shop and grab breakfast?" he suggested as he held the door open for her.

  "You're not going to tell me what just happened, are you?" she asked with a sigh.

  "I really think it would be for the best if we pretended that this never happened."

  "It's probably for the best," she agreed on a sigh. There were some things that she really didn't want to know and how Tristan scared the hell out of a room full of people with anger problems was definitely one of them.

  Chapter 21 "I think I'm gonna be sick," Shayne grumbled as Tristan pointedly ignored him and focused on the woman sitting across from him.

  Was he smiling like an idiot? Probably. But he just didn't care. For the first time in his life, he was happy and it was all thanks to the woman trying to work as she tried even harder not to smile. He watched as she chewed on her bottom lip, clearly trying to hold back a beautiful smile. He wondered if she was as happy as he was.

  Probably not.

  For years he'd been living in his own personal hell as he struggled to stay away from her. Every day was worse than the last and if he caught a glimpse of her, it was like having his heart ripped to shreds. Now that was all over. She was his and he planned on doing whatever it took to keep it that way. Now that he knew what it felt like to make love to the woman he loved, hold her and simply be with her, he wasn't about to let her go.

  The other aspect of his existence was going to be a slight problem, but he was done with letting it rule his life. She was his life now. She was all he ever wanted, ever hoped for and he wasn't willing to live without her. Now that she was his, he couldn't help but feel regret for all those years he'd wasted. They could have been together. They could be married now, have a family of their own, but he'd pushed her away. He would never do that again.

  "Stop," Marty said, her lips tugging up into a pleased little smile even as she did her best to focus on her work.

  "Stop what?" he asked, smiling as he watched her.

  "Making me gag, lad," Shayne offered helpfully, but Tristan ignored him as he continued to gaze at Marty.

  "Watching me work," she said, trying to sound firm, but he wasn't buying it.

  "Sorry," he said, chuckling as he forced himself to focus back on his work, but not before he glanced at his watch.

  They'd been working all morning and he still had a ton of shit to do, but they needed to take a lunch break soon so that he could look into a few things since he promised Hank that his investigation into the disappearing women wouldn't interfere with his other cases. If he was going to get anything done, he was going to have to do it during his lunch breaks and after work. He'd bring Marty along with him if she wanted to tag along.

  He'd make it quick so that he could focus on her, but in the back of his mind he had to wonder if he was making a mistake. Instead of taking her along to investigate fancy restaurants, perhaps he should focus on taking her to one, but this was important, he reminded himself. When this was over, and he prayed that this would end soon, he'd more than make it up to her.

  "Do you feel like joining me on a working lunch?" he asked, chancing a look up to find Marty watching him as she thought it over.

  "Will there be an actual lunch during this working lunch?" she asked teasingly.

  "I think I can manage that," he said with a wink.

  "Okay," she said with a sweet smile as she returned her attention back to her work and making him rethink his plan to work through lunch. Perhaps he should take her back to his place for a quick-

  A hard knock on their office door interrupted that rather intriguing thought, but that was fine since he knew that they had tonight, and if he had a say about it, every night after that.

  "Yes?" he said, not bothering to look up from his paperwork.

  "Detective Black?"

  He looked up to see Jonathan, a seasoned patrolman, standing in the doorway, holding a folder in his hands.

  "Detective Black, I have an arrest that you might want to look at," Jonathan said, reminding Tristan that he needed to focus when he was at work and keep his mind off of all the things that he wanted to, and would, do to Marty.

  With a nod, Tristan stood and took the folder from Jonathan. "What do you have for me?" he asked as he opened the folder and looked it over.

  "Twenty year old kid got kicked out of college, came home, and decided that he was going to raise a little hell," Jonathan explained as he folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the doorframe.

  "Looks like he had a hell of a night," Tristan murmured as he looked over the list of complaints against the kid, vandalism, assault, resisting arrest, trespassing, possession of a narcotic, and sexual assault on a young woman.

  Well, it looked like he was going to have to work through lunch to clear this up. It also meant that he was going to have to put in a few more hours into the investigation of the missing women than he’d planned. Hopefully, he’d be able to cover the five restaurants and restaurant supply stores that he had on his list tonight and still have time to spend with Marty.

  Tomorrow he'd have to start the tedious chore of calling the rest of the restaurants and supply stores since he wouldn't have the time or the resources to go visit every one of them. He couldn't officially ask for help from any of the other jurisdictions, but if any of the people he spoke with over the phone raised any red flags, he’d call in a few favors.

  "His mother wants to talk to you," Jonathan said, drawing his attention back to the bullshit that he had to take care of now.

  "Oh yeah?" he asked, not really caring as he looked over the kid's past arrests, DUI, assault, and theft.

  "Yeah, she's claiming this was all a big misunderstanding. She's already managed to talk Ralph out of pressing charges for the damage the kid did to the bar as long as the kid pays for all the repairs and never sets foot in there again."

  "Is she harassing this young woman as well?" Tristan asked, his mood turning sour at the thought of the young woman that was sexually assaulted being harassed by the perp's mother.

  Jonathan let out a snort of disgust. "She tried, but I placed the young woman in McGill's office along with her parents."

  "Good," Tristan murmured as he continued to look over the kid's file. He wasn't surprised to see that the kid managed to get out of most of his past charges, no doubt with his mother's help. Justin Erickson had only been ordered to do a total of forty hours of community service and to cover the damages. Whoever this kid's mother was, she was definitely working her ass off to keep her kid out of prison.

  She probably thought that she was doing Justin a favor. She wasn't. If anything she was making it worse for everyone and setting herself up for heartache when the kid went too far and even she couldn't help him.

  "Has he lawyered up yet?" Tristan asked, taking another quick look at the list of charges.

  "No, I don't think the mom can afford it," Jonathan said. "The kid doesn't have a job and she's supporting him on a secretary's salary."

  "He ask us to supply him with a lawyer yet?" Tristan asked as he handed Marty the file, already knowing that she was eager to see what they had.

  She had a good work ethic and was very thorough. Now that he'd decided that he was going to
keep her in his life, he actually realized that having her around the department was a good thing. If she tried to leave, he'd just follow after her. Some people might call it stalking, but he'd rather refer to it as keeping what was his and making sure that no other asshole went near her. Now he just had to figure out how to make sure that she wanted to stay with him since he did have a tendency of being an asshole and driving people away.

  "No," Jonathan said, shaking his head. "But he also isn't talking. I think he's expecting his mother to get him out of this."

  "Probably," Tristan agreed with a tired sigh as he grabbed a legal pad and a pen off his desk.

  "I'll go move him to room five, Detective," Jonathan said, sending Marty a nod before he left.

  "Guess you'll be sending me out to pick up lunch," Marty said, noticeably fighting back a yawn.

  "Looks that way," he agreed, reaching over to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

  He opened his mouth to ask her about going along with him tonight, but she looked so damn tired. If she didn't get some rest soon she'd be too tired to make love tonight. Since he was pretty sure that he'd die if he didn't make love to her tonight that meant that he was going to have to drop her off at home, his home of course, and suggest that she take a nap. He nearly swore when the idea of Marty, naked and lying in his bed, had his cock twitching.

  "Do you mind if I grab a cup of coffee before I join you?"

  "No, that's fine, baby. Take your time," he said, leaning in and giving her a quick kiss simply because he could.

  When he moved to step away, she leaned up and gave him a quick, playful kiss, before handing the file back to him and heading for the door. "I just need two minutes," she said, sending him a sweetly shy smile.

  "You got it," he murmured distractedly as he watched her go.

  "Excuse me? Detective?" a vaguely familiar woman in her late forties, who looked tired, but was trying not to show it as she forced a smile and stepped into the doorway, said.

  "Can I help you?" he asked, as he wracked his brain, trying to figure out where he knew her from.

  "Yes," she said, looking oddly relieved. "My son is Justin Erickson and I believe there's been a misunderstanding," she said, sounding hopeful as she tried to hide the fact that her hands were shaking.

  Tristan nearly groaned when he realized that this woman was his suspect's mother. He already had too much shit to work on today and didn't need to add this woman's bullshit attempts to get her son out of trouble added to the list.

  "If you could have a seat in the waiting area," Tristan said, stepping out of his office and giving the woman no other choice but to back up as he gestured towards the small sitting area by the doors, "I'll be happy to speak with you as soon as I get a chance."

  "B-but, if you could just give me five minutes of your time, Detective, I'm sure that I can help clear this up," she said, almost desperately and he couldn't help but feel bad for the woman. That is until she turned slightly to the right and the sunlight steaming in from the windows hit her in just the right way.

  It felt like a physical blow as recognition him, hard. For a moment he could only stare at the woman in front of him. There were strands of grey shooting through her blonde hair now and the blue eyes he used to remember as vivid and bright were now dull and tired, but it was her.

  "Detective?" she said, drawing his attention to the fact that he was standing there staring at her.

  He gave himself a mental shake as he forced himself to focus. "Why don't we speak in my office?" he asked, turning around and opened his office door, thankful to have something to distract him, even for a moment.

  With a grateful smile, she did just that. Tristan was just about to close the office door when he spotted Marty with a large coffee mug in her hand, heading towards the back rooms. For a moment he considered letting her go, but then he realized that he needed her, probably more than ever.

  "Marty, could you come here for a moment?" he asked, grabbing her attention just as she was about to walk through the door to the back rooms.

  "Of course," Marty said with a polite smile when she spotted Mrs. Erickson standing next to him.

  He waited until Marty walked into the room, throwing him a questioning look. As he shut the door and took a deep breath, he prayed that he would be able to get through this without screaming at this woman for all the bullshit she'd put him through, the way she’d pulled away from him, made it more than obvious that he wasn't worth her love and protection, or even a comforting shoulder to cry on when the pain was too much and he was terrified. But none of that mattered now, he reminded himself as he forced himself to relax and sit down so that he could do his job.

  "You wanted to speak with me?" he asked, getting to the matter at hand so he could get this woman out of his hair and back out of his life.

  "Why don't you tell him what the little bastard did to your arm?" a man that he didn't recognize demanded as he stepped through the wall. Tristan watched as the ghost walked over and stood over the woman that Tristan would gladly walk away from.

  "Ever since his father died, Justin has had problems accepting his loss," Mrs. Erickson started as the man dressed in an old Red Sox tee shirt and grey sweatpants shot the woman a look of disbelief.

  "Are you fucking kidding me with this?" the man demanded, leaning down to get in the woman's face, but of course she couldn’t see him. "I've been dead for ten goddamn years! And before that he was a spoiled little brat!"

  "Does he have a juvenile record?" Tristan asked, already having a good idea that he did.

  The man stood up with a snort as the woman's eyes shifted away from him. "Nothing serious," she mumbled.

  "Nothing serious?" the man repeated in disbelief. "Attacking his teacher and setting her house on fire isn't serious?"

  Mrs. Erickson licked her lips anxiously as she sat forward and sent him and Marty an imploring look. "You have to understand. It's been really hard for Justin. He's had a tough childhood."

  "Tough childhood? You do everything for the little bastard, but wipe his ass!" the man snapped, throwing his hands up in disgust as he walked away and began pacing back and forth through the desks.

  "Do you have any other children, Mrs. Erickson?" Tristan asked, unable to help himself.

  She looked right at him as she said, "No, he's an only child."

  Chapter 22

  "No, he's an only child," the perp’s mother answered seconds before Tristan's jaw clenched tightly shut and the cold expression that Marty was now familiar with took over.

  "Is there anything that you'd like to tell me about the charges against your son?" Tristan asked in a flat tone as he kept a level look on the woman that seemed to unnerve her a bit.

  "Just that I know that my son didn't do any of those things. He's a very good boy," she rushed to explain.

  With a sigh, Tristan stood up. "He's a twenty year old man, Mrs. Erickson and unless you were there I'm afraid that I can't help you," he said, already heading for the door.

  "But, he doesn't deserve this!" the woman snapped as she got to her feet to follow Tristan.

  Tristan simply ignored her and kept walking away, but instead of walking towards the holding rooms, he walked towards Hank’s office. Before he reached the door, Hank walked out, frowning when he saw Tristan.

  "Is everything okay?" her father asked.

  Tristan shook his head, surprising Marty, but he shocked her a second later when he handed the file over to Hank. "Have someone else handle this."

  "Why?" Hank asked, but Tristan obviously wasn't planning on sticking around to explain it to him.

  "Read the suspect's mother's maiden name," was all Tristan said before he walked past her, acting as if he didn't see her or even care that she was there.

  "Son of a bitch!" she heard her father snap and, as much as she would have loved to ask her father what was going on, she had to deal with another problem.

  "Detective, I just need ten minutes of your time," the suspect's mother said,
stepping in front of Tristan and cutting him off.

  "You can't have it," Tristan said, moving to step past the woman, but she was too determined to get her way to notice that Tristan was seconds away from tearing off her head.

  "We're talking about my son's future here. I think the least you could do-"

  "I'm off the case. If you have any questions, you'll have to speak with the chief," Tristan said, moving once again to step past her and when Mrs. Erickson went to stop him this time, he simply ignored her and kept walking until he was in his office and the door slammed shut behind him.

  Marty ignored Mrs. Erickson as her expression turned determined and she moved to go after Tristan, but she didn't make it two feet before her father went after her.

  "Let him cool down," Hank said, handing her the suspect's file.

  "But,-"

  "Just let him cool down for now," Hank said, gesturing for her to go to his office. "Let him sort through this on his own," he said quietly as he walked past her. Before she could ask him what was going on, the suspect's mother was begging Hank to speak with her.

  As much as she wanted to go to Tristan, her father was right. He obviously needed time to calm down. When the time came and he needed her, he would go to her.

  At least, Marty hoped he would.

  *-*-*-*

  "I thought we were past this, lad," Shayne said as Tristan forced his eyes to remain on the file in front of him, ignoring his phone as it continued to ring.

  "Do ye want to talk about it, lad?" Shayne asked as he pulled up a chair at the kitchen table. Tristan didn't need to look up to know that Shayne was watching him with pity.

  He didn't need pity. He needed to work and he couldn't do that with Shayne hanging around, watching him like he was going to lose it. He wasn't. Today might not have been the best day of his life, but he'd already moved on. He was over it and didn't need a fucking sitter.

  "Everything's fine, Shayne," he said, hoping the man would take him at his word and leave him alone so that he could work through the rest of the files. He was more than halfway done and he'd like to finish them before he called it a night.