The Hangman (Forgotten Files Book 3)

“No, not really.”


Ah, they’d come full circle back to what happened in Virginia Beach. “You don’t want me around your kid because you think I’ll encourage her to be reckless, and one day a drug dealer will treat your kid like a punching bag, is that it?”

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

“Look, I appreciate that you’re protective of your daughter. It’s really damn charming. But let’s face it, she’s one example of the many reasons we could not go the distance.” She took his silence as acceptance, and though it bothered her more than it should that they weren’t couple material, she couldn’t blame the guy. “I don’t fault you for caring about Bella. In fact, I used to dream that if Jim hadn’t shot himself, he would have settled down and been a great father to me. You know, the kind that cheers on the sidelines at soccer practices and threatens your prom date if he doesn’t bring you home by midnight.”

“Have you ever gotten pushback for your father’s suicide?”

“Not outright, no. But some instructors at the academy recognized the name. And my captain at the beach brought it up in a debrief.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. Her captain had meant well. He’d wanted her in counseling, and when he found out she only attended two of the four scheduled sessions, he pressed buttons. She finally agreed to complete the counseling sessions. “He was afraid I’d go off the rails like Jim did. He wouldn’t be the first to wonder if I’d go a little nuts.”

“I know you were pretty battered.” His brow knotted. “Is the other part true?”

Her heart stilled, and her breathing slowed. She didn’t answer.

“Did Benny rape you?” Each syllable sounded gnawed on and spit out.

For a long moment she didn’t respond. “Who’s saying that?”

“Riggs said you refused the rape kit.”

“Maybe I needed to be left alone. Maybe the X-rays and the twenty-five stitches the nurse put in my arm were enough of an intrusion for one day. Maybe the noise of the emergency room was too much.”

“You’re deflecting.”

No one other than her captain had had the balls to voice the question directly to her face, let alone push for an answer. “It’s going to have to do. Like you said, you don’t know me, Novak, and I sure don’t know you.”

“That’s why I’m asking. I want to know.”

She stared out the window, thinking. It would be so easy to open up and talk to Novak. And she nearly did before reason stopped her. She sidestepped back to Bella. “I remember how my aunt tried to talk me out of the academy. She hated the idea. At the time, I didn’t understand her fear. I understand it now. I can talk to Bella about the job and what it’s like for a woman. I can warn her and share war stories, but none of us really knows until we put on the uniform. But at nineteen, we all think we’re bulletproof.”

He accepted the conversation shift, not pressing about Benny’s attack. “The goal is to get her to twenty-five, and then she can make any kind of decision she likes.”

Laughter rumbled in her chest. “Have you picked out the convent she’ll live in until then?”

“Not funny.”

“Do you see me laughing?”

He sighed. “Bella’s a good kid. Her mother wasn’t easygoing, but she is.”

“Lucky for you. I was a terror.”

That tweaked a smile. “I can’t imagine you being difficult.”

“Let Bella figure her own life out, Novak. If her head is screwed on straight, she’ll make good decisions.”

He didn’t speak for a couple of miles.

“You see the world as black-and-white,” she said. “I see lots of grays.”

Shaking his head, he said, “I don’t know what the hell that means.”

“Not surprising.”

He was at ease behind the wheel, and she sensed that, like her, he was at his best when he was chasing a case. Nothing warmed the blood better than hunting bad guys and watching them go down. She and Novak had more in common than she originally thought.




Novak parked in front of the simple brick rancher located on a tree-lined street. The neighborhood dated back to the fifties, but the presence of children’s toys in many of the yards proved the area was enjoying a renewal.

Julia walked up to the door and Novak followed, allowing her to ring the bell. Novak liked Julia. Liked her tenacity. Been hooked on her since the first night he’d seen her standing in the back of the ballroom. Also suspected she’d bolt if he told her so.

Inside the house, a steady beat of footsteps approached. Those steps then hesitated on the other side of the front door as Novak assumed Rogers was checking them out through the peephole.

A chain rattled, and the door opened to a slim man with a thinning stock of gray hair. Deep wrinkles lined his face, but his eyes were a brilliant blue. “Novak,” he said.

“Good to see you again, Neil.” Rogers had been on the way out when Novak had made detective, but they’d caught a few cases together. “This is Agent Julia Vargas with the Virginia State Police.”

Julia extended her hand. “Thank you for seeing us.”

“Anything for Novak. And Jim’s kid. Come on inside.” Rogers stepped aside, allowing them into a well-lit hallway that led into a living room and a kitchen beyond. Though the smell of burgers still lingered in the air, Novak could see the kitchen was clean, counters wiped, and dishes stacked in the drying rack by the sink.

The living room was also tidy. The television was off, but a steaming cup of coffee next to the television remote suggested he’d been watching the news.

“Can I get either of you a cup of coffee? Just put a fresh pot on.”

“I’ll take a cup,” Novak said.

“Sounds great,” Julia said.

Rogers moved into the kitchen and grabbed two white mugs from the cabinet. He filled each carefully, then reached for a bowl filled with sugar and creamer packets. “No fresh milk. I drank the powdered kind on the job so long I never could get used to real milk after I retired.”

“Most of my meals come out of vending machines or fast-food joints,” Julia said. “Hate to think what I’d do if I came toe-to-toe with a fresh vegetable.”

Rogers held up a cup. “Novak?”

“Black works,” he said.

The three sat in the living room, Rogers in a well-worn recliner and Novak and Julia on the couch that faced a large picture window.

Rogers swiveled his chair from the television toward the couch as he sipped his coffee. “You surprised me when you called. I haven’t heard the names Vargas and the Hangman in ages.”