“Yes, Sir,” he said. “I’ll talk to my wife about it, and after we discuss it, I’ll get back to you. Tomorrow morning, afternoon at the latest.”
We’d just rounded the corner when Aaron’s K-9 partner appeared, startling the ever-loving shit out of me.
“Sorry,” he said as he pocketed the phone. “Tank likes to stay outside when Stephanie is in the vicinity.”
I snorted.
“I believe I offended her,” I admitted.
Aaron didn’t even try to deny it. “You probably did, but she gets offended easily. And nobody likes her, so I don’t really care.”
I blinked.
“Okay,” I finally settled on. “What’s up with that, though? And where are you taking me?”
He was leading me down the side of the building toward the woods.
I didn’t know the man all that well, either. Maybe he was going to take me to the woods and put me out of my misery. Maybe he was going to lead me to some super-secret camp where all the recruits went to learn Batman stuff that they would be able to utilize while on the job as a police officer.
Hell, maybe I just had a good imagination.
Whatever the reason, I wasn’t expecting to find anyone in the woods. I was expecting to be led to my doom…or something.
So when I saw Truth, decked out in black tactical pants, black boots that laced up all the way to mid-calf, a skin tight black t-shirt with Mooresville Police emblazoned in white vinyl on his back, and a black cap with MPD stitched on it, I froze.
Literally froze.
Stopped right in the middle of the trail, causing Aaron to stop and turn.
“What?” he asked, worried that I’d seen something disturbing on the ground.
I waved him away.
“Nothing,” I licked my lips. “Does he always dress like that?”
Aaron’s gaze shifted from the ground to where I was staring, and he snorted.
“You women are always the same. The man’s working. His clothing choice is purely functional, not fashionable.”
I shrugged.
“You…”
“What are you doing here?”
I froze, looking away from Aaron to see Truth twisted and looking at me from about ten paces away.
“I’m looking for you,” I admitted. “Do you have a minute?”
He didn’t even hesitate to answer.
“No.”
I blinked.
“You…what?” I was confused. “Are you sure you can’t spare me just a few…”
“Go home.”
I blinked.
“But…”
“Go. Home,” he ground out. “Aaron, escort her to her car.”
“Wait, Truth,” I held up one finger, trying not to stare at the pitying faces of the men and women standing behind Truth.
“Go home.”
I ground my teeth together.
“I will not go home,” I snapped.
“I’ll come over later,” he said once he realized I wouldn’t budge.
I stared at him for a long time before I nodded. “Promise?”
He gave one quick nod. “Yes.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, took one last look at the men and women staring at me, and then started back across the parking lot toward my car.
I got in, but I knew in my heart that he’d just lied to me.
He wouldn’t be coming to see me later, and I was pissed off and hurt that he’d blatantly lied to my face.
But I knew one thing for certain. He wasn’t getting off that easily.
I’d be going to his house tonight, whether he wanted me to or not.
***
I waited until nine that night before my impatience could no longer keep me in my home.
The drive to Truth’s place was short, and it gave me practically zero time to prepare what I was going to say.
I’d been trying to compose a few words to tell him, but each and every time I came up with something, I dismissed it because it made me sound like a whiney child.
But now, whiney child sounding or not, I was going to make the man listen to me.
And he was going to listen to every single word I had to say, or I’d make him.
At least, I was going to until I walked into his house and found him drinking straight from a half empty whiskey bottle.
He was sitting on his couch, bottle dangling from two fingers over the arm, his head leaned back staring at the ceiling.
“I told you to go away.”
“How do you know it’s me?” I challenged him.
“Because your car sounds like a fucking bus that’s ready to kick the bucket. It backfires as it shuts off, which is another distinctive tip off,” he mumbled darkly, not bothering to make eye contact with me.
My car was bad. That’d been why Kenneth was buying me a new one, because it was in need of something more than I could offer it.
I could, I supposed, buy myself a new one. But I had a sentimental attachment to the old girl. She’d been the one constant thing in my life all the way through my high school years. She’d been my safe haven.
After Kenneth cheated, though, I couldn’t find it in myself to look for a new car. So I stuck with the same old piece of shit that I’d been driving for years.
I closed the door behind myself and walked further into the room, wondering idly when the last time he cleaned up after himself was.
Shit was everywhere. Clothes. Shoes. Boots. Guns. Ammo. If Truth had used it at some point in the last two weeks since I’d been there, it was laying out where he happened to put it down.
It hadn’t been cleaned since the last time I was there.
“The doctor told me to start drinking more,” he told me, bringing my attention back to the pitiful state he was drinking himself into.
Tommy, the doctor of the club he was a member of, would not do that…especially with everything that’d happened to Truth over the last few weeks.
“I think he meant water, Truth,” I offered darkly. “Not whiskey.”
He shrugged.
“Semantics,” he rumbled, then pulled the bottle up to his lips and took another swig.
I gritted my teeth.
“I was a bad guy once,” he murmured into the darkness. “What my father says is true, but I’m not that man anymore.”
I froze where I was standing.
“Would you like to tell me about it?”
He laughed humorlessly.
“No,” he admitted. “But since you won’t go away, I guess I’ll have to share my sins with you.”
I walked slowly forward and took a seat on the opposite arm of the couch that he was leaning against, and waited.
He started slowly.
Then picked up speed until he spilled every single one of his sins.
“When I got hurt two weeks into my final deployment, they medically discharged me.”
“What happened? How did you get hurt?” I interrupted, suddenly concerned and unable to hide it.
His head rolled on the back of the couch, and he smiled in my direction.
“I burned my retina during a firefight and couldn’t see down the barrel of my gun for about three months,” he told me. “It was severe enough at the time to discharge me.”
I nodded my head.
“Okay,” I said, making a ‘go ahead’ motion with my hand. “What happened then?”