by Aiden Bates
He might have given up hope of actually being with Nenci, but he could still catch glimpses.
He'd just started work on the few non-human artifacts found with the skeletal boy found in the Blue Hills when his boss walked over to his lab workstation. "Hey, Oliver," said Nina. Her bright blue eyes burned into Oliver. "Lock that back up for a while, would you? I need to speak with you for a little bit."
Oliver nodded and obeyed, but inside his entire body trembled. Was he about to be fired? He'd have hoped that they would give him more notice that this. As far as he knew, his performance was more than satisfactory. Had Nenci complained about him? He thought he'd been subtle and not at all overt or obvious, but maybe he'd gone too far. Maybe Jake had said something to his father, and Nenci had complained to Human Resources.
Maybe they were transferring him to the lab in Sudbury or in Maynard. Maybe they were just sacking him outright.
He followed Nina into her office, which was about as orderly as a government employee's office could get. The stacks of paper were neat and weren't threatening to take over the room, at any rate. "Is something wrong, Nina?"
Nina smirked. "Wrong? What could be wrong? We're down ten lab techs thanks to that scandal, we don't have the money to replace nearly enough of them, and do you think that means that they're asking less of us?" She snorted. "Have a seat. Nothing's wrong with regards to you. On the contrary, everything's just fine. No, I asked you in here because I'm giving you an assignment that's a little bit outside your normal comfort zone. It's going to involve actually getting out of the lab."
Oliver frowned. "You mean like collecting evidence at the crime scene?"
"Well, maybe." She winced. "Your friends at the Cold Case Squad have decided to re-open an investigation into an arson and murder that happened up in Salem some fifty years ago."
Oliver tilted his head. "Well, that's kind of their job, isn't it?"
"Right. I mean yes, it is, but here's the thing. This case, it's not going to be like other cases that they work." She tapped her fingers on the desk and glared out her window. "It's different. So much of the case is going to be built on physical evidence, and they don't really understand the science behind how all of that works. Lt. Devlin asked that we put you on the case in a more hands-on kind of role, to make sure that the data is interpreted correctly and that the detective on the case is able to use the information correctly. I wanted to give you the heads up before we go into a meeting with them."
Oliver's insides clenched. "Do you know which detective will be assigned to the case?"
She shook her head. "No. I know that neither Nenci nor Morris has a specific case assigned to him right now. Say the word and I'll make sure that bastard Nenci stays far away from you."
For a brief moment, Oliver considered saying it. Nenci's feelings about having omegas in the field were well known. He didn't want to put himself through that kind of torment. Then Jake's words came back to him. This could be a good opportunity to show himself in a good light to the alpha of his dreams. To be sure, Nenci still wouldn't love him, but he might be more open minded about omegas. Maybe the next omega would have a chance.
"That's okay, Nina." He forced a little smile. "It really doesn't matter to me which detective I work with. They're all great guys, good professionals, and I can work with any of them."
***
Sam finished typing up his report on the Vecchio homicide. He remembered when the case was new, and Sarah Vecchio had only just been killed. There had been a manhunt for a mysterious "black male assailant," with thousands of Bostonians being stopped and searched and all sorts of things because they fit the description.
Sam had been new to the force back then. He hadn't been a detective. He'd just been a regular trooper, but even then he'd been suspicious of the husband. He hadn't been the only one. Too bad it had taken another dead wife to prove it.
He ran the spellcheck thing on his report, decided that it didn't know what it was talking about after the third time that it implied that he didn't know the difference between "your" and "you're," and hit "send." Devlin would forgive any real spelling mistakes in favor of not having to puzzle through his handwriting anymore.
Today was a busy day around the Cold Case squad room. Langer had one of the biggest cases of the century, in terms of visibility anyway. The Reyes case had been an absolute scandal when it hit, with the poor little girl at the center getting completely lost in the lurid accusations against this family member and that family member. If Sam was any judge, and he was, Langer was the right guy for the job. He was smart, sure, but he was also the gentlest alpha Sam had ever met. He could handle the case and keep the victim in mind.
Robles was working on some kind of mess in the Blue Hills. They'd found a body, the body of a young adolescent boy. The finding of bodies in the Blue Hills wasn't all that unusual, unfortunately. Some "businessmen" had seen land that eventually became incorporated into the Blue Hills as an excellent dumping ground. Most of those bodies had once belonged to adults, however. This one had not, and finding out what had happened to him seemed like an impossible task.
Robles could handle it. He didn't have a lot of imagination, but he was diligent. He would explore every possible avenue until he got to his answer. He'd follow the procedure right down to the last letter, and that would be the end of it.
Then there was Tessaro. Tessaro's case was messy. How someone could have been shot forty years ago, in full view of five people, and still be a complete unknown was something that Sam couldn't quite understand. Something fishy was going on there, but Tessaro would get to the bottom of it. The case was messy, but Tessaro was messy, and they were well suited.
Sam and Morris had just finished up cases. Sam's had come to a satisfying conclusion. Morris' had been a little bit less satisfying. It had been a case of self-defense. None of them thought that a jury would see it that way, though. They'd given the suspect the number for Langer's omega, who was a damn fine defense attorney. If he couldn't sway the jury, the poor lady was hosed.
Sam shook his head at himself. Since when had he become the kind of guy that gave a crap about what happened to suspects? The woman had killed her husband, and then she'd concealed the crime for twenty years. Self-defense didn't matter. At least, it hadn't mattered, for a long time. Now it did, and he wasn't sure that he liked the change.
The change had happened, though, and he couldn't pretend that it hadn't. Oh well. There wasn't anything that he could do about it now, but shake his head at himself.
The door to Cold Case opened, and two people walked in. The first was Nina Burton, who ran the lab here in Framingham. The second was someone Sam didn't need to open his eyes to recognize.
The first time that Sam had met Oliver Wesson, he'd gone tearing down to the nearest health food place to sniff at each and every one of their essential oils until he could identify the exotic, enticing scent that emanated from the handsome, slender omega. When he'd finally found it, he'd almost passed out. Myrrh. He'd never met, or even heard of, a myrrh scent for an omega. And he wanted more.
Of course that scent would be attached to the omega whose workstation was next to Sam's son. Why would life be any easier than that?
He kept his eyes strictly on Burton as the pair disappeared into the conference room with Lt. Devlin. He didn't want to stare. He didn't want to give the impression that he was some kind of creepy old man, even if he was.
Tessaro scratched his head. "Did Oliver get a new haircut or something?"
Sam shrugged. "I have no idea." It wasn't a lie. He hadn't looked. He didn't want Oliver to have gotten a haircut. He'd had enough fantasies about running his hand through that hair, gripping it tight—
"Nenci!" Devlin poked his head out of the conference room. "If you'd be so kind."
Sam choked on his own tongue. Tessaro and Robles snickered under their breath, but Langer just gave him a sympathetic glance. Sam ignored them all and grabbed a notepad and pen. He didn't want to go in there. He
didn't want to be in such a close space with Oliver Wesson, not if he couldn't touch.
He dragged his feet, but he walked into the conference room.
Devlin closed the door behind them. The scent of myrrh was overpowering, but Oliver's eyes were on the file in front of him. Nina Burton, though, glowered up at Sam while he took his seat. "Detective Nenci," Devlin said. "How much do you know about the Cooper Block Fire in Salem, Massachusetts?"
Sam snorted and accepted the folder that Devlin passed to him. "I know that it was a little bit before my time, sir. I'm not actually fifty yet, and that fire happened more than fifty years ago."
"Two points for Nenci." Devlin grinned. "You do remember it, then. Mr. Wesson, maybe you can fill us in on some of the details."
Oliver cleared his throat and glanced around. Whose bright idea had it been to stick an omega in a closed space with two alphas? The poor guy's heart had to be beating a mile a minute. "The building, while it occupied several different lots, was really just one large building with multiple entrances. It had a single owner, multiple retail establishments on the ground level, and approximately fifty apartments on the stories above. It was replaced with a similar establishment, with better sprinklers, the next year. That structure partially burned in 1992."
Sam frowned. "Was that fire also arson?"
"It was, and it was also fatal." Devlin spoke up when Oliver looked down and away, pink coloring his high cheekbones. "The first fire killed fifty people—one for every apartment, although they weren't quite so evenly distributed. Thirty of the deceased were children. Some of the doors had been barred to prevent escape. The building's owners, the Coucher family, initially faced charges for that obstruction, but it was shown that the doors were blocked from the outside and hadn't been before the fire.
"The fire in '92 was similar. It had a lower death toll because of the improved sprinkler system. The Coucher family apparently learned from history, because that system had been upgraded within the past five years. Security cameras around the building showed a masked figure attempting to seal the building shut, but the camera feed was cut not long after that. Ten lives were lost that day, to include two firefighters attempting to save children."
Sam bowed his head for a moment of respectful silence. "I remember that one, at least. I was new to the force then. My kids were still new, too. My omega, Chris, was horrified by the whole thing. He was terrified that something would happen to me on the job." Instead, something had happened to him. Sam wasn't going to mention that, though. He wasn't even going to think about that if he could avoid it.
"The thing is," Nenci continued, scratching at his beard, "this seems very…" He frowned. "This seems very strange. It seems like someone has it out for the family, like an old-style vendetta. Is the property still in the family's hands?"
"No." Burton shook her head. "It's on the ghost tour though." She rolled her eyes. "They sold it to the City at a loss after that, and the City built some offices on the site and used the rest for a park. The Coucher family left Salem, both in terms of business interests and personal property. Their commercial properties have continued to suffer from a spate of fires, not all of which have been proven to be arson. Under the circumstances, though, I think it's a safe bet."
"We can't bring charges for safe bets, or admit them as evidence in court." Sam scowled at her. "So let me guess. We're re-opening the cold case, because we think we can get something from the old evidence."
Oliver cleared his throat again. "With all due respect, sir, we can. We didn't have the GC-Mass Spec in 1967. We didn't even have it in 1992. It existed, but the technology has improved and it's become much more accessible. Forensic evaluation of arson scenes has come a long way in the past few years. Even the invention of the Internet has improved things tremendously, because consultation with a specialist or details about a similar fire or case are simply a click away." Oliver's silver eyes gleamed for a moment. "Arson is never 'easy' to solve, but it has become so much more solvable in the past ten years alone."
Sam made the mistake of meeting those silver eyes, just for a moment. He wanted reach out and touch that smooth skin. "Okay, sure," he said after what he knew was a moment too long. "But the thing is, Oliver, there's so much more to proving it in court than chemical formulae and emails to professors."
It was the wrong thing to say. Burton turned to Devlin. "Are you sure that we can't get Morris on this case instead?"
"Morris is available to help out, but he's not going to be the lead on this case." Devlin ignored Burton's comment. "It's a difficult choice to make, but I think that Nenci's the right man for this job. I happen to agree that this has all of the hallmarks of a vendetta, and he's definitely the one who has the patience to tease out the little connections between the crime scenes. He's also the one who's going to find the crimes that are retaliatory. It would be unusual, to say the least, to have someone kill fifty of a family's tenants without any kind of retaliation whatsoever. It's pretty much unheard of to have someone kill fifty of a family's tenants and then kill eight more, without there being anything in between to spark that second killing."
Sam's mouth went dry. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting, sir?"
Devlin nodded. "This is going to be an unusual investigation. Arson investigation is tricky, and Oliver's our best arson investigator. He's got a lot of great contacts at the State fire marshal's, thanks to his work there, and he's a very gifted investigator when it comes to the analytical side of things. You and he are going to work together to get to the bottom of this feud and arrest everyone responsible."
Sam scowled. "He can't actually arrest anyone. He's not a detective. He's not a cop. He doesn't have a badge. He doesn't have a gun." He looked directly at Oliver. "Do you even know how to use a gun?"
Oliver shrunk into himself, and Sam felt like he'd kicked a puppy. "I've had adequate ballistics training, sir. I know how to aim and how to fire, how to load and how to check a gun to see if the gun is loaded. I haven't explored beyond that and I don't care to."
Sam threw up his hands. "Sir, don't get me wrong. Oliver's fantastic in the lab. I wouldn't trade his work for ten thousand lab techs. I just think that it's a big mistake bringing omegas out into the field. Bringing omegas out into the field who don't have any kind of field training, who can't protect themselves if things go bad and who might make things worse, is just foolish. Sir."
Oliver hung his head. "It's true. I don't have any field experience or training. I haven't sought it, either."
Burton snarled at Sam. "You're even worse in person than the rumors suggested."
Devlin held up a hand. "You know, Nenci, I understand what you're saying. I do. You're concerned about Oliver's safety, and of course your own. No one's suggesting that we give him a gun, and Oliver's shown plenty of good judgment. He's not going to go grabbing for a gun and looking to play hero."
Oliver managed a sad little grin. "Not my place, sir. I'm here for science. That's all."
Devlin folded his hands on the table. "The fact of the matter is, Detective Nenci, that if we want to solve this case, we're going to need a lot of science to back it up. We'll need more of a hands-on approach from the forensic team than we ever have before. Oliver was chosen for this task because of his consistent display of good judgment and because of his extensive arson experience. You will work with him, and you will get the conviction. Do I make myself clear?"
There was no wiggle room. There was no getting out of this. "Crystal, sir."
Devlin stood up. The others stood with him. The meeting was over. "Excellent. Good luck; keep me posted."
Burton and Devlin left the room. Oliver hung back for just a moment. His perfect pink tongue moistened his lips. "If it's any consolation, sir, I didn't ask for this. I'm sorry they forced me on you." He scurried away after his boss.
Sam hung his head again. Oliver clearly thought that the problem was him, instead of the situation. Sam could understand why. He'd shot his mouth off again,
and now that beautiful and delicious-smelling omega looked almost ready to cry. That was on Sam.
Well, it was better that he thought that Sam was an asshole. It was better than thinking that Sam was some kind of pervert. He sighed and got up from the table. He had a lot of prep work to do before they could get started on the project.
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Check out the other books in the Never Too Late Series. Remember, all books can be read by itself!
Buried Passion – Never Too Late Book 1
Ryan is a detective with the Abused Persons unit of the Mass. State Police. He loves his job, and he’s very good at it. He balks when his supervisor assigns him to a case with the Cold Case unit, and not just because that’s out of his area of expertise. Everyone in Cold Case is an alpha, and that’s just not a comfortable place for an unclaimed omega to be.