by Nadirah Foxx
Lowering my glass, I said, “Why would Leo kill the bodyguard? All he had to do was say he needed to talk to me. As long as he wasn’t threatening—”
“Yeah, right. The man oozes danger. He can’t be trusted.”
I angled my body away from Matt. “How do you know he can’t be trusted?”
Matt gave me an incredulous stare. “Are you serious? I’m a damned cop. It’s my job to know people. I told you the night we met that he was dangerous.”
“No. You said that Leo looked like the type who was always up to no good. I begged to differ.” Despite everything that happened, I still didn’t peg Leo as a stalker. Or a murderer.
“You still feel that way?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“What’s to be sure of? The asshole followed you from the bar. He entered your apartment uninvited. For all we know, he stole your keys. Copied them. Who knows what else he’ll do?”
Holding my glass out, I started to ask for a refill. Actually, a clear head might be a better course of action. “Nothing. He just wanted to see me.” I stood and went to the kitchen.
Matt quickly followed me. “Even after you broke it off with him, he keeps coming around.”
On second thought, more wine was a necessity. I opened the fridge and searched for the bottle Matt opened. I saw the wine along with something I probably shouldn’t have seen—a box of syringes. With a trembling hand, I pulled it out.
“What is this?”
Matt crossed the floor and snatched the box from me. “Syringes, Rachel.” He pushed me out of the way, ducked into the fridge, and pulled out a bottle. He held it up to my face and snarled, “Try reading for a change.”
I took the container. It was insulin. My mouth dropped. “You’re diabetic?”
“Yeah. Type one. Have been since I was a little kid.” He shoved everything back in the fridge, removed the wine, and reached for my glass. “Anything else you want to accuse me of?”
“No. I’m sorry…”
Matt took a calming breath. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped on your back.” He gripped the side of the counter so hard his knuckles whitened. “How about I fix dinner? You can take the wine with you. Watch a movie or listen to music. Choice is yours.”
Clutching the bottle to my chest, like it could shield me from any more unintentional rage, I took my glass and left the kitchen. Too much strangeness for one day.
22
Not Safe Anywhere
Rachel
After the confrontation in the kitchen, I thought that maybe Matt just needed some time alone, but as I flipped through the channels, he appeared in the living room.
“Rachel?”
Slowly, I dragged my eyes away from the screen. “What?”
He drew in a deep breath and blew it out through his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten upset with you.”
Something snarky sat on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it. Honestly, I didn’t want to argue. He claimed he missed me. Well, I missed him too, but Matt had to understand that blowing up at me was wrong. Instead of encouraging a discussion, I just shot him a dirty look. Apparently, he got the message and returned to the kitchen.
Later, we ate in silence. Sitting by my side, Matt reached over and placed his hand on top of mine. I sighed heavily and dropped my fork.
“Rachel, please. I said I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“Don’t you know I care about you?” His voice cracked. “I’d never hurt you.”
I slid my hand out from under his and picked up my utensil. His irrational behavior floored me. Well, that and the fact he didn’t tell me about his illness. “You should have been honest with me, Matt. Why didn’t you tell me you were diabetic?”
The clang of his fork hitting the plate filled the space between us.
For a second, I thought Matt would jump up from the island, but he didn’t. Instead, he grasped my hand. “I didn’t think it was important. We’re just getting to know each other. Full disclosure seemed like a deal breaker.”
“No. It’s called trust. If I were on medication, I’d want you to know. What if I got sick or had a bad reaction?” I stared at him. “Same thing with you.”
His head bobbed up and down. “Fine. Thanks to shitty genes from my father, doctors diagnosed me with juvenile diabetes when I turned five. I also inherited anger issues from him. There’s medication I can take, but I avoid it.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother was a drug addict. I don’t take the chance with any type of drugs. Having diabetes, though, I have to take insulin.” He faced me. “Can you blame me for not wanting to talk about this? It brings up shit I’d rather forget.”
“Understood. But Matt, if we’re going to get closer, you have to trust me. Otherwise, it’s not a relationship. Hell, it’s not even a friendship.”
He squeezed my hand. “I realize that. Just… Just be patient with me. I’ve only been close to one other woman.”
“April?”
“Yeah.”
∞∞∞
Once again, I felt safe. We’d made some headway over dinner. I got a little glimpse into Matt. Got to know him a little more. But those anger issues? Oh, those weren’t disappearing.
While I was watching an old Marilyn Monroe movie, Matt stormed into the living room. “You want honesty? Then tell me about Leo.”
My head whipped away from the screen. “What?”
Where the hell did that come from?
“You heard me.” Matt speared me with a glare. “What the fuck happened between you two?”
He wasn’t the only one pissed off. Monroe was one of my favorite actresses from her era, and Some Like It Hot was a movie I tried to watch any chance I could. Rolling my eyes, I said, “Not like it’s any of your business, but I told you what happened. We went on a date. We had a couple of dinners at my place. We spent one night together. End of story.”
“And that picture you showed me?”
Heat burned my cheeks. I didn’t want to talk about the boy I knew, or the relationship I thought we had, but if I expected Matt to be forthcoming, I had to do the same. After all, I invited the conversation.
“His name was Leon Allen. I told you that. Back then, my life was pretty fucked up. Someone had murdered Mom, and it was just Dad and me. He was still on active duty, so I relied on Crystal’s mom and extended family a lot. They all gave me a wide berth, believing I was mature enough to look out for myself. Leon was like a breath of fresh air. He understood my pain, and I tried to understand his.”
“Did you love him?”
I started not to answer that question. But when I looked into Matt’s eyes, I saw hurt mixed with his anger. On some level, I knew what it meant. I just didn’t want to accept it. Not yet. What I wouldn’t do was add to his misery, so I told him what he needed to hear.
“I thought I did. He claimed he loved me, but it was only to get into my pants. As soon as he scored, the asshole left me.” Matt’s shoulders slumped. “Before you ask, yes, it hurt. But I moved on. I forgot about him. When I saw him at the bar, I didn’t even recognize him. If all this shit hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have remembered.”
Matt nodded absently. “Do you still have feelings for him?”
“No. I stopped caring years ago,” I admitted without hesitation. It wasn’t an entirely true statement. The memories yanked the scab off my heart and left it raw. Matt, however, didn’t need to know that. “Are we good now?”
He didn’t speak. He pivoted on his heel and stalked back into the kitchen.
And that was the final word on the subject—on any subject, actually. We spent the night in silence. Matt sat on a chair across the room from me while I tried to focus on the movie. Unfortunately, I couldn’t concentrate. Every few minutes I’d look up to find him glaring at me. On a commercial break, I rose to my feet. Went to the stairs and grabbed my bag. I glanced over my shoulder, but Matt wasn’t there. W
ith a heavy heart, I made the trek upstairs.
As I slipped out of my jeans, I thought about the future. Correction. Our future. I didn’t see one. As much as I cared about the man downstairs, I was also becoming afraid of him. Fear in a relationship never worked. It set up a dangerous precedent that I didn’t want to consider. I’d stay put for the night. In the morning, I’d have to accept the obvious—Matt and I just wouldn’t work. We couldn’t. Not until he got over the fact that there was someone before him. If I could get past his engagement to April, why couldn’t he get over Leo?
I crawled into bed with my cell phone. At least I could read a book until I grew tired.
∞∞∞
At some point, I rolled over and discovered Matt hadn’t been to bed. My phone, now dead, was beside me. Voices floated up the steps. Was he watching TV without me? I crept toward the landing, and that was when I heard Scott.
“Where’s Rachel? Crystal tried calling her, but the phone went straight to voice mail.”
“Tell your wife to stop worrying. Rachel’s upstairs.”
“Upstairs!”
“Lower your voice. She’s sleeping. We had a fight, and she went to bed without me.”
Someone sighed loudly.
Matt asked, “Is that why you came by?”
“No. We need to talk.”
“About?”
“Your whereabouts earlier this week.”
“Sorry. I don’t keep a log of where I go,” Matt barked.
“Man, this is serious. Somebody called the station. Claimed they saw you with some girl.”
“I’ve only been with Rachel.”
“Remember the missing person report on some runaway from Grand Rapids?”
“Yeah. She’s still missing.”
“Was,” Scott said flatly. He waited a beat or two before saying, “That’s why I’m here. Her body turned up on Belle Isle. Witnesses claim you were with her.”
“That’s bullshit! I haven’t been to the island in over a month.”
“Don’t be mad at me. I’m just reporting what I heard.”
“What happened to her?”
Nobody said a word, and then Scott began. Pain coated his voice. “The lab report came back indicating ketamine in her bloodstream. It’s hard to say whether the bruising on her legs was from rape or rough handling. The motherfucker butchered her body. Hacked her up. It was gruesome, Matt.”
Matt said what I was thinking, “You think this is the K-Hole Killer again?”
“If it is, he’s devolving. None of his other victims were…” Scott cleared his throat. “The remains were picked up the same night we moved Rachel. Coroner identified her by dental records. Family was notified today. About an hour ago, someone called in with the information.”
“What info?”
“The make and model of your car. Supposedly, you were in uniform. The witness described a man matching your body type.”
Something crashed to the floor. It took every ounce of strength I had to stay put. I wanted to charge down the stairs and ask Scott what was going on. If I wanted to hear the truth, I needed to wait it out.
“Well, whoever fed them that shit must have been high. I wasn’t there. Did they test for semen?”
“They tried, but the specimen was too old. I only knew about the ketamine because I overhead the conversation.” Scott paused again. “Let me bring you in. We’ll explain it. Examine the time line and figure out where you were. Maybe Rachel can vouch for you.”
“Rachel won’t do it.”
“Why the hell not? She’s your—”
“Nothing! She’s not my girl.”
My heart stopped.
“Matt, what the fuck are you talking about? She’s into you.”
“No. She’s not.”
“Huh?”
“Rachel isn’t interested in me. She pities me, but she’ll never love me.”
Was Matt in love with me?
Dumb question. I saw it earlier—the hurt look on his face. It was too damned soon for love. I cared about him—that was all I could admit. I’d made the mistake once before. Like Leo said, no repeating the past.
“Man, have you been drinking? Love takes time. You’ll see. A year from now—”
“I don’t have a year!”
“What does that mean?”
“Leo.”
I waited for an elaboration, but it didn’t come.
Scott said, “That happened once, right?”
“That’s what I thought.” Matt paused again.
“Fuck! They know each other, don’t they?”
“She admitted it.”
Nobody said anything for a few minutes.
“Matt, this was from years ago. Hell, I remember when it was taken. Crystal and I were there. Didn’t they hook-up for a while?”
“It was a little more than a passing thing. She said they were in love. He broke her heart. Now he’s back for a little reunion. Rachel let him into her heart again.”
“I don’t believe it.”
Were they talking about the picture? When did Matt take it?
“Yeah, right. The ass showed up at Rachel’s dad’s house. You should have seen the looks between them. I could have puked.”
“This is a good thing,” Scott said. “He won’t hurt her.”
“No. This shit is serious. Leo won’t stop until he gets the girl.” Glass crunched against the floor. “Scott, he’s up to the same damn thing. He’ll do everything possible until I’m out of the way again.”
Again?
I rose up off the floor and tip-toed back to the bed. Sliding into my jeans, I wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself into. I glanced at my useless phone, unsure of what I should do next.
The pounding on the door stopped my thoughts. Footsteps collided with the floor. Loud voices traveled up to the loft.
“Officer Matt Wallace?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
“Yeah,” Matt responded.
“We have a warrant for your arrest.”
“On what grounds?” Scott asked.
“For the murder of…”
I heard nothing else. My heart threatened to beat right out of my chest. My feet moved on autopilot as I raced around the room picking up my belongings. I only stopped when I sensed I wasn’t alone.
“Rachel.”
It was Scott. I didn’t dare face him, not with the tears streaking down my cheeks.
“Let me take you home.”
“Wh-what about Matt?” I held my jacket against my heaving chest.
“I’ll call my lawyer.” Scott placed his hand on my shoulder. “Whatever you heard… Matt’s not that kind of man. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
Shaking my head, I said, “You can’t know that.”
“I do. That man is like family to me. I’d vouch for him without hesitation. I don’t believe for a second that he killed anyone. It doesn’t matter what they found.”
I whirled around. “Who? What?”
“A blood-covered uniform and a vial of ketamine in the fridge.”
My world had collapsed and taken with it my hopes and dreams. Would I ever be the same again?
23
No Justice
Rachel
By the time Scott dropped me off, Matt’s arrest was all over the late news. Dad took one look at me and shook his head.
In a sad voice, he pointed out, “You haven't had any luck with dating since your mother died.”
Understatement.
My dating history was as checkered as a rap sheet. After Leo split, each boy—and later man—got progressively worse. Men who used drugs and drank too much. There was one prone to violence who wanted to use me like a punching bag and then love on me afterward. Weak ones, dumb ones, and arrogant ones. I’d dated them all and screwed too many of them. My colorful experiences taught me one thing—Matt wasn’t a killer.
I plopped onto the sofa and reached for the remote. I didn’t need to hear someone’s idiotic accusations. “He didn’t
do it.”
“Can you be sure?”
Short answer? No.
Honestly, I had no proof one way or the other. It was a gut feeling. But for the sake of argument, I’d stick with the longer, more complicated answer. The one that maintained Matt’s innocence. “He didn’t do it, Dad.”
“Just because you repeat something doesn’t make it true.”
I glanced at the snowflakes falling. Soon it would be Thanksgiving. Was I thankful for anything? Running into an old boyfriend who ditched me right after I spread my legs? A love interest who was accused of murder? A stalker—who just happened to be the old beau—upending my life? Or maybe I should be thankful for being able to come home again? Knowing that my father would always welcome me despite the circumstances.
“Say what you will, Dad. I know he didn’t do it.”
He opened his mouth.
“You don’t have to say it. Yes, I can be a poor judge of character but not anymore.”
Dad quirked an eyebrow.
He wasn’t the only one with doubts. I was questioning my sanity, but my craziness shouldn’t condemn a man.
“The old me was reckless and hurt. I was looking for ways to stop the pain. That’s why I got involved with Leo. The new me didn’t recognize him. If I had…” My voice trailed off.
What would I have done if I’d realized the stranger in the bar was Leon?
Greeted him and then told his ass off?
Not hardly. My traitorous heart would have fallen. Again.
“Rachel,” Dad said, snagging my attention. “You’re so much like your mother. You have her spirit and kindness. You see the good in people no matter how far down it might be. But just like your mom, your judgment can be off.”
Talking about her resurrected an old wound, and I rubbed a circle over my chest. The emptiness had returned. I just wanted it to go away.
“Sunshine, you have to face facts. You were wrong about Matt. He’s one of the bad cops. There aren’t many of them, but he—”
Shoving to my feet, I said, “He’s not. He’s too protective to be a killer.”