Mothers never fail to ask me if their children felt any pain.
I lie. I lie to make the shittiest day of their existence not a hell of a lot more shittier. “I’d like to believe he didn’t.”
Someone across the room, some blank-faced human being—some blind-eyed sheep, will always come out with, “Well, at least he’s lucky he felt no pain.”
That’s a load of bullshit.
He’s not lucky he didn’t feel pain. Neither of them was lucky at all. They were dead. Only assholes would think it had anything to do with luck.
It had to do with reality, life, and the pure, darkest of evils that some people walk around, having inside them.
The mother clamped onto my arms and squeezed, digging her nails into my skin. I didn’t let her see me flinch—I was the rock—steady and impenetrable. I held her up as her knees buckled, and her weight crumpled to the floor. I watched, arms full, as the older sister looked up to the ceiling and closed her tear-filled eyes, while the younger brother raged behind us, bursting his knuckles open against the wall.
I had the Chaplain take over quickly. It’s always hard for a brain to process a sudden death, especially such a violent one. The first thing a family did was to question their faith, “Why God, why?” in heart wrenching pleas that make up most of my nightmares. I needed someone there who could help with the answers I didn’t have.
God never spoke any answers to me, and truthfully, I was exhausted from questioning Him all these years. I just did his work, tried to keep peace, keep people safe, even when they fought against me.
Over the next few hours, my squad showed up, one by one, and we scoured over the crime scene. I stayed through the brightening of the sky through to its darkening. I stayed until my eyelids were lead weights, and my hazy thoughts overlapped each other. I hadn’t even stopped to eat—that familiar empty ache twisting my stomach into knots—reminded me that what I needed didn’t matter. Not when there were answers to be found, evidence to collect, dead to defend. Justice to be served.
My Lieutenant, Sebastian Graves, came down to the scene, rubbing the back of his neck with his hands. It was somber, more so than usual. These were kids, but they were also kids that spent their personal time working with us. They were part of our family.
“It’s like we’re fucking cursed,” Graves mumbled under his breath. “Thomas dead and now this?”
Max Kannon called home every hour, making sure his kids were okay. He shrugged as he caught me watching me. “Haven’t been home in a few days early enough that the kids weren’t in bed. I’m forgetting what they look like.”
How was he okay with that?
“Hey,” Ryan nudged a coffee into my hands. I looked away, pretending we both didn’t notice my fingers trembling. “Go home. We did everything we could here,” he mumbled. “Go to bed.”
The thought of going home to an empty bed made me feel hollow inside. But, all I wanted was my bed and a warm body next to me. Someone to find comfort in.
I sipped at my coffee. It was lukewarm and tasted like dirt. “Yeah,” I grumbled. “Home sounds good. Bed sounds better.”
He lifted his chin up in a nod, “You should go climb into bed with a certain leggie brunette.”
“Yeah, right.” I laughed.
“No joke, bro. This shit,” he said gesturing to the bloodstains and spray paint on the walls. “This ain’t something you want to be alone with tonight in your head.”
I shrugged his words off. He knew nothing about me or how I dealt with what was in my head.
“Did you tell your sister yet?” Ryan asked, scratching at the stubble starting to grow in along his jaw.
An uneasy feeling churned in my stomach. “Fuck, I forgot about talking with her. I gotta get out of here and tell her.”
Ryan licked his lips and squinted his eyes toward the door, “Yeah, bro. Then get some sleep, and we’ll start our investigation in a few hours. Need a ride home?”
“Yeah, Ry. Thanks.”
We left the others to seal off the scene, and made our way back to the car and home without another word passing between us. That is until he parked in front of my house, and both of us noticed the enormous bonfire in the backyard of Liv’s house.
“What the fuck, dude? Your neighbors are batshit crazy,” he laughed, peering through the window of the car to see the building inferno.
“Yep,” I sighed heavily as I climbed out of the car. “That’s where Liv’s mother lives.”
“Yeah?” He gave me a wicked smile. “Crazy is great in bed.”
“I hate you,” I said, slamming the door in his face. It didn’t make a difference that he had a point. I hated him for voicing it.
He drove off with a smirk and a squeal of tires, of course. He seemed like the kind of guy that always needed to get the last word in. I glanced over to my house. Brooke’s car was gone, and the house looked dark. Rushing over to tell her about the cadets was a moot point if she wasn’t even home. And Liv looked like she was about to burn her mother’s house down.
“Whoa,” I said, walking into her backyard. “The neighbors are going to call the fire department on you.”
“Well, good thing you’re one of the neighbors,” she sneered, flinging one of the kitchen chairs into the pile of burning furniture. Her face was streaked with tears and ash, like she’d been doing this for hours. It was kind of hot.
“Want to tell me why you’re doing this?” I asked, in a steady calm tone.
She stormed over to me holding out a fistful of papers. Her eyes told me nothing but pain and rage.
“What’s going on? What happened?” I asked, gently taking the papers from her hands.
“My father’s dead,” she blurted. The words were like a floodgate opening, tears streamed down her beautiful cheeks, chasing after each other. “And,” she hiccupped, trying to catch her breath. “It was last month. Last fucking month, Dean!” She slapped her hands down against her sides. “Somebody thought it wasn’t important enough to tell me!”
My chest ached for her. I glanced down at the disarray of papers I held in my hands. “Are you serious? That’s what was in her papers?”
“That, and so much more. So much more,” she sobbed, collapsing straight to the ground.
I immediately kneeled down beside her, the hard cold ground wasn’t kind to my knees. “Like what?” I asked, ignoring the pain.
“I have this whole family,” she sniveled and sniffed. “He was married and had two kids. Two kids. And, and,” she got louder. “The family was paying her off to keep us away from him!”
She lunged for the wrinkled mess of pages and yanked out one of them, holding it an inch away from my face. “Look at the bank statements. I’ve been busting my ass working, paying all her fucking bills—and mine—when she has a four million dollar blackmail account!”
That’s insane. “This is why she didn’t want you to touch any of her stuff? Why would she hide that from you? Why would she do that to you?” I mumbled more to myself than her.
A deep sob ripped up from her throat, “You have no idea how I have always wanted a family. No idea.” Her eyes met mine, so big and red and full of tears. “A non-alcoholic family. Like yours. You fucking bunch of Bradys.”
“I know, Liv. Come here,” I said softly, pulling her into my arms. She folded right into me, shoulders trembling with hate and rage, sadness and heartbreak.
“Wait,” she croaked, pulling her head back and arching her brows. “You’re wearing the same thing from last night?”
“Yeah, I just got back from—”
“Oh, sorry,” she squeaked, bolting up out of my grasp. She wiped her nose nosily and stepped back, face flushed.
“It’s okay, Liv. Come here,” I said, climbing to my feet. “I was at work all night.”
She looked at me like she didn’t believe me, like I was lying. She pinched up her lips and couldn’t look me in the eye.
“You don’t believe what I’m saying do you?” I stepped clos
er to her, touching my finger to her chin, and lifting her face to mine. “Where do you think I went?” I chuckled. My fingers ached to trace the shape of her lips, the slope of her neck.
Tears glossed her eyes and streaked heartache down her face. I couldn’t figure out why. What the fuck was I saying wrong? Why do woman have to act like so damn confusing all the time?
I spread my hands across her skin and gently wiped away her tears with my thumbs. “Look, whatever you’re thinking about me that’s making you cry even more, just stop. I got called in last night, because they found the cadets.”
Her shoulders loosened and relief flooded her features.
“Oh good,” she breathed out, so damn innocently. “Brooke’s been worried about—”
“No,” my voice cracked over hers. “I’m a detective, Liv. Nobody calls me in, because they want me around. They call me, because something bad happened.”
Her gaze widened, “Bad?”
“They found the cadets’ bodies,” I said in a quiet voice.
“Oh, okay,” she said nodding and straightening up. “Okay,” she repeated, wiping her face clean. “Brooke went shopping for food. She was going to make dinner. Her car pulled up when you came back here, so she’s home now. Let’s go tell her together.” She pulled herself together as if her world wasn’t just falling apart. I stood there blinking at her, stunned. That was it? She pulled back her own emotions—her own crisis—to help her friend get ready to deal with bad news, so she could be there for her.
“Come on,” she whispered, sniffling. She held out an open hand to me, blinking up at me as if she knew the secret to whatever strength was needed for this, that she would show me the way.
I reached for her outstretched hand, grabbing onto it tightly.
It gave me strength, support. Understanding.
The walk back to my house was slow, both of us steady, hands clasped tightly, eyes staring into one another’s. I wanted it to last forever. I didn’t want to face my sister and watch her hurt, but more surprisingly to me, I didn’t want to let Liv’s hand go. I wanted to keep walking, holding her hand, off into the distance somewhere far away where bad shit didn’t happen to good people.
Brooke’s trunk was open and plastic bags full of food teetered over each other. Humming a song, she pulled out a bag and spun in our direction. Her eyes locked on our hands, and she smiled, but that instantly disappeared when she looked up at our faces.
Liv gave her a small sob of sympathy, and Brooke’s movements stilled. “What happened?”
Groceries spilled from her hands, and her fingers clenched into fists. Her eyes flashed straight to mine, “Dean?”
“They found the bodies late last night—”
“Bodies? Both of them?” she asked in a whisper.
I nodded once.
Her face went pale, and then she ate back the pain like a damn good officer.
“What happened?” Brooke demanded, reaching up and slamming her trunk closed, leaving all the groceries inside. Her keys dangled in the lock. “I want to know everything,” she said, flattening down her coat, composing herself.
“Both shot, execution style,” I said, swallowing hard. “They were in that vacant condo unit for sale around the corner from our office.”
“What?” she asked, voice shaking. “What were they doing there?”
“We don’t know, Brooke. But I promise you; I’m going to find out.”
Tears collected in her eyes as she looked up to me and nodded her head quickly. “I know you will.” She rubbed at her eyes and looked down toward the ground. “I’m…I have to go see their parents. I…Liv, I’m sorry…I…”
“No,” Liv gasped. “Don’t be sorry. Go. Go, Brooke. I’ll make dinner and you go.” She hugged my sister, yanked her into her arms and gave her whispered words I couldn’t hear. Brooke touched her forehead to Liv’s and took a deep breath, nodded and said, “Thank you, Liv.”
Liv glanced back toward me, composed, her eyes grave. “I’ll let you two talk,” she whispered, through tight lips. I locked my eyes with hers, and after a brief moment, her eyes widened, then quickly looked away.
She stepped past us, picking up some of the fallen groceries, and stuffing them into one of the bags. “I’m going to clean up and change fast. Then make dinner for when you get back.” She spoke softly, in a small choked voice. I think she was trying not to cry. I watched as she bent and squatted, flexibly, making herself as small and as quiet as possible.
Brooke nodded slowly, her thoughts miles away with a grieving family.
“Go and change, Liv. Don’t worry about that stuff. I’ll get the rest of the groceries in,” I said. She stood up slowly and nodded once. Carrying the one bag under her arm, she mumbled something from the front door I couldn’t quite hear. When the door slammed shut behind her, my attention was back on Brooke. I grabbed onto my sister and embraced her. “You good? Why don’t you take a minute before you go?”
She shivered in my arms for a few minutes, breathed in a long deep breath and stepped back. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. You’ve been at the scene all day?”
I smiled at her naiveté. “I never got out of the car service last night,” I sighed.
“Really? How did I not notice that?” Her head bowed down, yet her eyes looked up at me, watering.
I shrugged, “You had your mind on other things last night.”
She tilted her head up at me and frowned, “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“Listen, Brooke. When you have time I want to know what’s going on with you, okay?” I said the words as if I was asking, but I wasn’t. She was going to tell what was going on in her life, and I was going to get it all fixed. She nodded and climbed into the driver’s side of her car as I unpacked the rest of the groceries from the trunk and walked them inside.
I unpackaged everything in the pantry, and listened to Liv singing in the next room. She had an awful voice, so awful that I had to stay in the pantry for longer than I wanted to stop laughing.
When I finally walked in, she looked at me from the corner of the kitchen, her hip against the counter as she stirred a pot on the stove. She wore one of my shirts and a pair of my boxers. Her long legs stretched down to bare feet with deep red painted toenails. Her hair was still wet from the shower, wrapped up in a messy ball of curls at the back of her head. The way she looked—my heart just stopped. I clenched my teeth together to stop myself from telling her how much I wanted her right then and there.
“I hope it’s okay, I had to take whatever I could find in the laundry room that was clean,” she said softly, covering the pot and laying the spoon down. She grabbed at the hem of my shirt and twisted it in her hands. “Brooke had no clean clothes, so I put a load of wash in for her. I have nothing left—”
“You look beautiful,” I whispered hoarsely. “So beautiful that most times I have to look away.” I wanted to regret the words, yet I couldn’t, there was so much truth to them that it was almost painful.
Her gaze slowly slid up my frame until it locked onto mine, lingering there for a long drawn out moment, watching me closely. “Why?” she asked, her cheeks turning crimson.
Time slowed as her simple one-word question floated around me. Because I want to kiss you. I want to touch you, everywhere. I want to pretend for one moment in my life I lead a normal existence. I could love you without ever breaking your heart. Because I never want you to feel the burden of what I do and the man I am. I want you happy, focusing on your smile, your life, your goals, without ever being weighed down by me and what I stand for. Because I never want you watching the news and hearing about something horrible happening and knowing I am either there or running there to help. I never want my choices to ever cause you pain. None of those words came out though; I just took a low frustrated breath and ran a hand through my hair.
“Don’t,” she said, raising her palms and sighing. “I’m sorry. Don’t answer that.” She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and tossed it back on the counter. �
�Do you like your chili spicy?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, quietly.
She walked over to me, stood in front of me as I sat down in the chair and looked down into my eyes. “Well, jackass, it matters to me.”
“You should stay here, Liv. For a little while at least.” The words slipped through my lips before I could stop them.
She leaned her hip against the table and chuckled dryly. “For what?”
“Brooke,” I said, sheepishly.
“We could keep in touch on social media,” she said, backing away.
“And for me,” I said, closing my eyes and cursing the control I lost over my own damn mouth.
Chapter 14
Liv
“You want to run that last one by me, again?” I said, quietly. A storm of butterflies raced low in my stomach.
He squeezed his eyes shut and closed his hands into fists by his sides. He looked more shocked he said those words than I was at hearing them.
“You just have this calming effect on stressful situations,” he said turning his attention to something on the table. He stood up casually and strolled over to the refrigerator. “Not your own stressful situations, but everyone else’s.” He winked, opening the fridge and pulling out a soda. “I’ve been thinking about a couple of things you said to me. I called up that Katherine Meyers, whoever answered her phone wouldn’t tell who she was or what she did, but she said she’d have her call me back and set up a meeting. I want to clear Thomas’ name.”
“That’s what you meant? Really?” I asked drily.
“Absolutely,” he lied. He closed the refrigerator and leaned his back to it. He twisted the top of the soda bottle off and brought the drink to his lips, almost missing them. He looked down at the bottle with a slack glazed-over stare. I wondered suddenly if someone could actually fall asleep standing up, drinking soda.
He mumbled something I couldn’t hear as he shuffled tiredly back to a kitchen chair and collapsed into it.
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