by G. G. Andrew
Jimmy nodded.
“Do you understand me?” Scott repeated, raising his voice an octave.
“Y-yes.”
“Good.” He loosened his grip a smidge. “Kim Xavier’s not a piece of candy. She’s a person, and she deserves your respect. She’s trying to make her way through this filthy fucking world, just like we are. So next time you think you know what she or another woman is about, think of that.”
“Okay,” Jimmy said, huffing and moving his mouth like a fish.
Scott let him slide down the wall, gasping for air, and turned himself around.
Every eye in the station was on him. Uniform or civilian employee, standing or sitting, all had the same expression: wide eyes and open mouths.
Scott raised his voice. “Anybody else have anything to say about my girlfriend?”
A couple jaws shut, and a few shook their heads. Nobody said anything.
“Fantastic.” Scott strode out of the station.
He was outside before it hit him what he’d said. His girlfriend. He hadn’t meant to say it like that, but it’d come out all the same. Technically it wasn’t true. Technically they’d broken up, and he’d been the one to break up with her.
The enormity of what he’d done rushed at him like a tidal wave. He walked to the side of the building and leaned a hand against it, his head dropping as a rush of weakness and pain flowed over his body. He felt like he’d been kicked in the nuts.
How could he have left her, when his history there in Connecticut proved such a thing impossible? He couldn’t escape Kim Xavier—he’d been trying since last fall, and he’d failed again and again. What’s more, he didn’t want to escape her. She might leave him, or hurt him, or steal from him again, but he could no more stay away from her than stop needing to breathe or eat or sleep.
Like a responsible cop, he could go back inside the station and apologize to Jimmy and finish his paperwork. Or he could drive to Hot Haven, where she had a shift that afternoon, and tell her good afternoon and figure out the rest from there. He could throw caution to the wind for once, with the spontaneity he’d admired in her, and indulge his own overwhelming desire to see and touch and talk to her again.
He needed her, but he didn’t know if he still stood a chance. Probably she’d tell him to get the hell away from her. He deserved that.
He still had to try. He straightened up and walked into the parking lot.
Passing a couple other officers, Scott told them he had to make a quick trip to Hot Haven. Then he got in his patrol car and started the engine, paperwork be damned.
Flying through all the yellow lights, he reached the Hamden shop in record time—sooner than Kim’s shift, in fact. He dawdled in his car for a while, but he eventually got out, wanting to see her at the soonest possible moment.
Scott walked to the entrance of Hot Haven and opened it.
The place was empty that afternoon. Kim’s manager was walking around the seating area, wiping off tables. Over black pants and a green shirt, he wore a dark apron with a thick wad of napkins shoved in the front pocket.
“Hey there,” Boyd said. “You looking for Kim?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s not here yet,” Boyd said. “But her shift starts in about half an hour. Come on in and have a seat. I’ll fix you a drink on the house.”
Chapter Forty-One
Kim
Kim pushed the gas pedal down hard, racing through each light to the New Haven Police Department.
She’d called Scott twice, but he hadn’t picked up. She needed to talk to him, despite the weirdness between them. Especially if what Savannah Davidson had told her was true.
Minutes before, she’d met Savannah on a bench on the grassy expanse of the New Haven Green. The sunlight peeked through the tall elm trees, and walkers and bicyclists floated by, unhurried in the beautiful spring sunshine. But Kim’s nerves were strung tight and a couple of her nails chewed down to the quick.
There was something she’d missed.
“Hi, Kim,” Savannah had said as she’d sat down on the bench beside her. She propped a large pair of sunglasses on her head. “What’s up?”
She didn’t mince words. “Savannah,” she began, “have you ever been harassed online?”
The expression on Savannah’s face transformed from pleasant and friendly to hard, strained. She took a deep breath. “I have. How did you know?”
“It’s hard to explain, but I found a list of names of women who seem to be targeted online by their exes and people who are out to get them. Your name was on it.”
Savannah swallowed and paused. “It was this guy I dated, Mark.” She looked out over the green, her eyes pinched. “After we stopped seeing each other, he sent me a few angry texts that I ignored. Then, a few weeks later, I got this link to an ad. I clicked on it, and there was my head on some other woman’s body. She was completely naked, and looked barely legal.” She rubbed her nose. “I cried myself to sleep that night.”
“I’m sorry.”
Savannah looked back at her. “It’s fine. It’s been a while, and I’ve just tried to forget it. But when I told you that Boyd was one of the good ones, that’s what I meant. There are a lot of angry guys out there who don’t just want you, they think they deserve you. And when you deny them that, they think it’s okay to do anything they want to you in return.”
Kim exhaled in an angry huff. “Did you go to the cops?”
Savannah shook her head. “No. But a week later, when I clicked on that link yet again, it was gone.” She laughed harshly. “I guess Mark realized what an asshole he was being.”
Kim’s stomach twisted. “Savannah, how did you meet Boyd?”
At this, a smile played on Savannah’s lips. “It was right around that time, actually. Probably the reason I didn’t sink into a deeper depression. I was coming out of work and this guy was by my car. I didn’t know him at the time, but it was Boyd. He said he opened his driver’s side door into my car, and maybe there’s a scratch, and he’s sorry. He was talking a mile a minute—you know, typical Boyd.” She grinned. “There was barely a scratch on my car, but he offered to take me out for a drink to apologize, for any ‘pain and suffering’ I went through.” She crossed her legs. “He wasn’t my normal type, but he was cute and funny. I said yes.”
“You didn’t have any mutual friends before this?”
“No.” Savannah’s brows drew together. “Why?”
Kim ignored the question. “Is Boyd good with computers?”
Savannah nodded. “Sure. He’s on his laptop a lot when he’s not working. Of course, so am I.”
“Does he have a friend named Jason?”
“Yeah, but I’ve only met him a few times.” She uncrossed her legs. “Why are you asking me these questions?”
Kim thought of what Boyd told her about meeting Savannah. “I’d heard around that she was a really nice person, and then I saw her picture and she was, like, gorgeous. You know.” Had he been lying? Embellishing the story? It was little to go on, but something in it didn’t sit right with her.
“Savannah, do me a favor and don’t contact Boyd today,” Kim said. “Trust me. I know you’re with him and you don’t know me that well, but as one woman to another…”
The brunette shook her head. “I told him I was meeting you. He was on the other line when you called.”
Kim jumped to her feet. “I’ve got to go. Just—please—hold off talking to him again until you hear from me.”
“But Kim—what—”
She strode away from her quickly and got in her car.
She called Scott twice more, but he didn’t pick up. She texted him to contact her as soon as possible.
“Shit!”
She had to go to the police station to find him.
~
Kim had never been to the New Haven PD without cuffs on and her Miranda rights echoing in her head. It felt downright renegade to approach the front door with her hands free.
A g
roup of cops were gathered at the top of the steps to the building. As she neared, they looked down—and froze at the sight of her.
Kim stopped. “Hi,” she said, giving a nervous giggle. “I didn’t take anything, I swear.”
They stared at her a few beats more, then all of a sudden they all started talking.
“Hi, Kim!”
“How are you doing?”
“Nice to see you.”
“What can we help you with?”
A male officer—she remembered he was Jimmy Something, and he’d arrested her after she tried to steal some rings—stepped down towards her and took her arm, like he wanted to help her up the steps.
“It’s great to see you,” he said. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
Kim shook his hand off her arm. “No, thanks. Um, I’m here to see Officer Scott Culpepper. Is he here?”
“Scott?” the man said. “Naw. He left here about half an hour ago. Do you want me to call him for you? I could call him.”
“Scott’s headed to Hamden,” a female officer said from further up the steps. “Said he was going to Hot Haven.”
“Hot Haven?” Kim’s mouth went dry at the same time her heart fluttered in her chest. Why had he gone? Was it her? Her heart kicked up a notch in excitement, but then fear threw the rhythm of her heartbeat off, making it thud almost painfully in her chest.
She forced herself to breathe. She didn’t know for sure Boyd was involved. Maybe he was covering for someone, or maybe her hunch was totally unfounded. Plus, she liked him. He’d been a good boss to her at the coffee shop. She didn’t want to say anything to the other officers until she talked to Scott and tried to figure this out.
Maybe Scott had started to suspect Boyd too. Anyway, she didn’t have anything to go on until she talked to him.
She raced back to her car to drive to Hamden.
Chapter Forty-Two
Hutch
Hutch was about to make his first and last call to New Haven PD.
She answered on the second ring. “Detective Morales.”
“Hello, Detective,” he said. “Remember me?”
With her southern accent, Carter Morales had a recognizable voice. People had told him he did too. But he hoped even if that wasn’t true, the detective would remember him. He played with the salt shaker on the table while he waited.
“Jay Hutcherson,” she finally drawled. “Suspected of possession and intent to distribute at least three times, but oddly never convicted.”
He tucked his cell under his ear and passed the salt shaker from hand to hand. “I wouldn’t do so good in jail. I don’t like those metal toilets.” That and he had friends with deep pockets.
“Hmm.” The sound of people talking buzzed behind her voice, but then the noise dropped, like she’d stepped into another room. “What can I help you with, Mr. Hutcherson?”
“Meet me at the diner across the street,” he said.
“Why?”
“I’ve already ordered us two coffees and slices of pie.”
“Why?”
He dropped the shaker and a fan of salt spilled out onto the table. “I’ve got a name for you,” he said. “A name and details. From that situation you were looking into last week.” He pinched some salt grounds between his fingers and tossed them over his shoulder for luck. “And pie. Did I mention the pie?”
She fell silent, and Hutch threw more salt behind him.
Finally, she said, “Five minutes. Don’t eat my pie.”
She hung up. Hutch chuckled and looked out the window by the booth he sat in, waiting for her to emerge from the station. He wasn’t sure whether he was growing a conscience or just wanted to see if he was still as attracted to her when she came in wearing the inevitable pantsuit she worked in.
A waitress set down their coffee and pie. Hot black coffee and warm apple pie made fresh. He could even smell the cinnamon.
Since his little dance with the detective, he’d been sniffing around more than he should. His usual modus operandi was to mind his own business. He minded assholes harassing women in theory, but in practice it’d probably been happening under his nose without him being aware of it. Usually he did his thing, and the people around him did theirs. Where he roamed, they all lived in glass houses, and so it was best if everybody just shut the fuck up about things that weren’t their concern.
But now he did know. And it bugged him. Maybe he was growing a conscience. If so, it wasn’t exactly comfortable.
Detective Morales walked out of the station a minute and a half later. She wore navy slacks and a top that was the color of this string of pearls his grandma used to wear. She didn’t have a jacket on, but he guessed she’d left it back at her desk. Her hair was braided and hanging over one shoulder.
He still found her attractive.
The bell over the entrance to the diner dinged, and Carter walked right up to his booth and slid across from him.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a finger. With her other hand, she picked up the mug of coffee in front of her and took a sip. Then she took the fork and put a large bite of pie into her mouth. Finally her brown eyes met his.
“Okay,” she said. “What do you know?”
He rested his forearms on the table. “There’s a group of guys that hang out together.”
“With Jason?”
“Yeah. But he’s not the one.”
“Students?”
“Some. Mostly not.” He watched her chew. “Not sure how it began, but one of these guys, he’s got a reputation. If someone pisses you off, you can go to him and he’ll take them down, no questions asked. Screw with them on social media, naked photos—whatever it takes. It won’t lead back to you. And apparently it comes in different packages. You can do it really splashy, so the person finds out. Or you can just do it on the sly, just so you know they’ve got a picture out there on some porn site or something.”
“All women?”
“Mostly.”
Carter set down her fork.
“It’s spread by word of mouth,” he continued. “Around the university and adjacent little communities. The guy’s not a rich Yalie, but he’s got power because of this. You don’t want to piss him off. He’s like a phantom who can post information and photos anywhere with a few keystrokes.” He shook his head. “This is why the internet scares the fuck out of everyone.”
“And you know who he is?” Carter asked.
“Yeah.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“I don’t know, but you do,” he said. “You ate the coffee and pie I got for you, even though they were here before you arrived.”
She narrowed her eyes, but he was busy wondering how fast those buttons on her pearl-colored shirt would pop off if he were to rip it off her. It’d take too long, probably.
The corner of her mouth turned up. “Maybe I think you’ve got an honest face,” she said.
He leaned forward across the table, his voice low. “It’s a face you can sit on any time you like, Detective.”
Carter Morales had a good poker face, but her eyes glowed briefly with a heat she might’ve been unaware of. “Aww,” she said drily. “You’re sweet.”
Behind her steely attitude, she knew there was something between them too.
Maybe this was why he’d come. To prove to himself it hadn’t just been in his head.
“What’s his name?” she asked.
He leaned back in his seat, studying her, enjoying this moment where he had her attention. He wasn’t sure if there’d be another.
“Boyd Martin,” he finally said.
Carter glanced out the window before swiftly moving out of the booth. “I’ve got to go.”
“Wait.” He grabbed her forearm as she brushed past. “There’s something else you should know.”
“What?”
“He always carries a gun.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Kim
At Hot Haven, Scott’s patrol car sat in
the lot. Kim parked near it.
The car was empty.
She cast a look at the coffee shop. Despite it being Thursday afternoon, the sign on the door was flipped to Closed.
Kim’s heart rattled in her chest again, but then she forced herself to breathe. Scott was on duty; he had his weapon. Maybe he was even questioning Boyd right then, on similar suspicions she had, and didn’t want customers interrupting.
She got out of her car with her bag and walked slowly to the entrance. This was the time she’d normally arrive to work anyway; her shift was starting.
The building was lit inside, but looked empty. She paused by the door.
Boyd’s form came walking towards her, popping open the door. “There you are,” he said, smiling. “You loitering or something?”
This was Boyd. Funny, kind Boyd who’d given her a chance to prove herself. He was smiling, and she felt herself relax.
“Just trying to decide if I need to go to work since Hot Haven is closed,” she said, nodding at the sign. She still didn’t walk inside.
“I needed a few minutes,” Boyd said, holding the door open and gesturing for her to come inside. “Just got a big shipment. You mind helping me with it in the back?”
His expression was unchanged, still friendly and humorous, but ice shot through her veins.
“Boyd, is Officer Culpepper here?”
He cast a friendly look over his shoulder. “Yeah, he is. Want to come say hi—I mean, if you’re done loitering?”
She forced herself to laugh. “Sure. I just realized I left something in my car though, let me go—”
Boyd grabbed her by the forearm, and, before she could wrench free, pulled her close.
“Come in, Xavier. Your shift’s about to start.”
She noticed then that Boyd had a gun tucked into his waistband.
Nodding wordlessly, her heart pounded against her rib cage as he pulled her inside, then locked the outer door.