~
Cali watched Lowell’s SUV pull away. His silence as they’d driven back to the school had left her with the impression that something terrible had happened. When he’d turned to say goodbye, her breath had hung in her throat. The pain darkening his eyes was too familiar—like looking into a mirror. Currents of empathy flowed through her heart. It was as if whatever was affecting him was the same thing that was hurting her right now. Grief. Of course, in her emotional state, her ability to read emotions could be impaired.
She recalled how it had felt to be in her mom’s home. To be able to smell the perfume she once wore, to sit on the bed where she’d taken her last breath. “Miss you, Mama,” she whispered.
Turning back to her car, she remembered that only a few hours ago, the window had been smashed. Whoever Lowell had called had come out and done a fine job. The next time she saw him, she should remember to tell him thank you. Then it hit her. There might not be a next time.
He’d come for the bracelet, and he had it. He’d said he had more questions, but maybe not.
When that thought sent a vibration of disappointment rattling around her chest, she chased it away. Any emotional involvement right now would be a big mistake. Wrong time. And, oh yeah, wrong man. In spite of being attracted to him, in spite of him having moments when he came across like a hero, he was still a bit of a dickhead. A little one. A smile somehow broke through her emotions as she recalled how he’d laughed when she told him his nickname.
She got into her car. For just a second, she had a crazy feeling of someone watching her. Twisting around, she checked the parking lot. Nobody. Taking a deep breath of resolve, she spotted his jacket in the backseat. She’d forgotten to give it to him. Reaching back, she snagged it. She brought the worn leather to her nose. It smelled like rain, and like him. She recalled with clarity how good it had felt to be in his arms.
Realizing what she was doing, pining over something that she couldn’t, or at least shouldn’t want, she dropped the jacket in the front seat and started the engine.
Now, if she only knew where she was going.
~
An hour later, Brit joined the crowd in the meeting room at the precinct. Sergeant Adams, his thick brows puckered into one line of worry, paced in front of the room. He and Anderson’s lieutenant had called a meeting. “Here’s what we know. It’s the same MO as Keith Bolts. Possibly the same gun…we’re checking ballistics.”
Adams’ gaze cut to Brit. “We’ve got a good lead. Sounds like we might be after a gang. Last year there was talk about a pop-a-cop initiation. This could be that.” The man curled his hands into fists. “The informant said a young gang member, we think belonging to the Blue Bloods, was bragging about one of his buddies taking out a cop. We’ve got to find these guys.” He stopped pacing. “I know we’d like to push everything else aside. But we can’t shelve our other cases. I got upstairs to agree to pay overtime. So let’s do this. Go find these punks. But don’t forget your other cases.”
A few more words were tossed out by Anderson’s lieutenant. Brit could hardly focus. Finally everyone stood up. No one spoke. What could they say? Another one of their own had gone down. Grief and a need for vengeance hung like fog in the air; fear made the fog denser. Who would be next? No one in the room would admit to being scared, but Brit saw it in their eyes. He remembered Keith saying that only the stupid weren’t afraid.
Sometimes Brit admitted to being stupid—especially since Keith’s death.
Brit spotted Logan, Anderson’s partner. With a hitch in his throat, he put a hand on the man’s back. “We’ll get them.” He didn’t wait for Logan to reply. Brit knew how Logan felt. Less than a month ago, he’d been Logan—a cop without a partner. A cop with the need to kill whoever killed his friend. Hell, he still was that man. Nothing had changed.
Suddenly needing his own space, Brit lit out of the room. He stormed into his office, and the first thing he saw was the cat food. Grabbing two cans, and his thin coat, he took off to the parking lot.
Outside, he pulled the metal tabs and set them down on concrete. Thoughts of Keith and then of young Mike Anderson, both animal lovers, ripped at Brit’s heart. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the building. Emotion gripped his chest so tight, he longed to scream. Instead, he let himself slide down the brick wall, and sit on the cold pavement. Elbows perched on his knees, he buried his face in his hands. He dragged one deep breath after another into his lungs, hoping to loosen the godawful pain.