How May I Please You (The Darkest Kink #2) (The Darkest Kink Duet)

35. ~ Journey ~

thirty-five

As I navigatemy car down the road, my heart beats like a kick drum. I’m more anxious than ever, and I wish so much that you were here with me. I know we have to be apart now, but your arms around me would ease the tension creeping up my neck and settling into my shoulders as I turn onto our street. Part of me didn”t think Summers would actually agree to meet me here, but when I told him you ran when I confronted you about the information Captain Saunders gave me, his tone changed. As the house comes into view, so do he and his car. He’s here. This is it. It’s time.

“Thanks so much for meeting me,” I say, my face stricken with a concoction of sadness, anger, and embarrassment. I shake my head as I walk down the driveway from the garage and stand in front of him … him, the man responsible for our undoing. I hold out my hand for him to shake, but he doesn”t take it.

“Listen, Journey,” he starts as I lower my hand to my side, abashed. “The only reason I’m here is because you and I were partners for a while. I like you. I think you”re a good detective who has made some bad decisions. But that doesn”t mean you should go to jail over the choices you’ve made. I’m here to help clear up your name and place the blame where it belongs—on Evan Godric.”

The mention of your name sends shooting stars aflight in my body, but I don”t let it show. I see the way he’s looking at me, his eyes laser focused, checking my body language and mannerisms. He has been doing it the entire time, but I was too caught up in my own world to recognize the signs. His eyes have always been on me, probably in moments when I didn”t even know he was looking, and I hate him for it. I want to slit his throat and smear the blood all over his face, clogging his nose with it so that he chokes from the gash in his neck and the blood in his nostrils at the same time. I know you blame yourself for not moving Sierra’s body, and I take some of the blame for not realizing that her case was not closed but cold, but all of this is really his fault.

“I truly appreciate it,” I reply, letting my eyes drop down to the ground. “I couldn”t possibly be more grateful for your understanding and willingness to hear the truth. Not to mention the fact that you agreed to meet me here to discuss this instead of forcing me to come to the precinct or the Professional Standards Bureau. You didn”t have to do it this way and I really am appreciative. Thank you, Marty.”

Seeing the sincerity written across my face, Summers nods. “It’s no problem, Journey. Let’s just go inside.”

As we enter the house, I lead my ex-partner into the home that you and I share and have to bite my lip while he’s behind me. The thought of him stepping foot in the place where we love each other makes me livid. I want him out. I want you here. Better yet, I want him dead on the floor while we fuck next to his cold corpse.

“Have a seat,” I say, pulling out one of the dining room chairs.

I sit down across from him, and the second we’re settled Summers pulls out a small, silver rectangle and sets it on the table top.

“As we discussed, I’m going to record all of this,” he says. “Although we’re doing this here, it’s still evidence in the IA case against you, Journey. I’m here to help, but I have to do it the right way.”

“I understand,” I say with a nod.

Summers presses a button and the digital recorder comes to life. “This is Detective Martin Summers of Internal Affairs, conducting a voluntary interrogation of Detective Journey Monroe in regard to Case RW100199. The time is nineteen thirty-seven on May second, twenty twenty-four.”

Hearing him say the case number makes it all real. It wasn”t a dream. He really is Internal Affairs, sent here to investigate me and my misconduct simply because I’m in love with you. It takes every ounce of my concentration not to jump up and attack him right now.

“Alright, Detective Monroe. Let’s get started,” Summers continues, sitting back in his seat and eyeing me closely. Motherfucker. “After the death of Detective Sam Winter almost immediately following his successful attempt to obtain a search warrant for the Godric residence pertaining to the Sierra Cross missing persons case, the Professional Standards Bureau became suspicious of the warrant findings, or lack thereof. While not directly stated in the verbiage of the warrant, Detective Winter had pleaded with the judge to be allowed to dig in Evan Godric’s backyard after finding him with a shovel in his hand during a routine check. However, there was no mention of digging in your report. You cleared Evan Godric and even pushed to have his name removed from the suspect list in the Cross case. Not to mention that you were not present when Detective Winter saw the judge to request the warrant. This raised red flags, and led the Bureau to believe that he didn”t include you because he was suspicious that you were having an improper relationship with the suspect.”

My heart sinks listening to him detail how all of this started. Here I was thinking that everything was good. I was convinced that you and I were in the clear—that no one knew about us until the day we went to lunch with Summers. I was wrong. They were suspicious of me from the moment Winter died because I cleared you too quickly. There was never a moment where you and I were free from watchful eyes. If we had been any less careful, all of this would have happened sooner. They were always watching.

“Detective Monroe,” Summers says, leaning forward. “I witnessed you enter the bathroom of a diner with the suspect shortly after I became your partner, but when did your relationship with Evan Godric actually begin?”

I let out a sigh, still in disbelief that I’m about to do this. “Regardless of what any report says about me, and regardless of the fact that Sam obtained the warrant without me, I didn”t start seeing Evan until after he was cleared as a suspect.”

“Well, technically speaking, he never was cleared, at least not with us.”

I glare at him and have to quickly lower my eyes to cover it.

“I understand that,” I go on. “But my point stands. I cleared him as far as the Seventh Precinct’s investigation was concerned. He was scratched off the list and we began dating after that.”

“It didn”t bother you that he was a suspect in the case you were assigned to?” Summers asks.

“He was a former suspect, so no, it didn”t bother me.”

“At what point did you move in together?”

“After a few months of dating.”

“Did he ever mention Sierra Cross to you?”

“Only to tell me that he had nothing to do with her disappearance, which is why I’m doing this now. He lied to me. He convinced me that he was innocent. I now know that to not be the case.”

“How do you feel now that you know Sierra Cross’s body was found buried on Evan Godric’s property? It was exactly where Detective Winter thought it would be.”

“I feel like someone who was lied to. I feel like a cop who’s ready to make an arrest.”

“Is that so?” Summers asks smugly. “Is there a reason why you didn”t dig in Godric’s backyard while carrying out the initial search warrant?”

I freeze.

“Your partner, Detective Winter, used the shovel in Godric’s hand as justification for the warrant. However, while conducting the search with you, he never dug. Why is that?”

I don”t reply.

“Did you keep Detective Winter from digging in Evan Godric’s backyard?”

Fuck.

“Did you know Sierra Cross was buried there while you were carrying out the search warrant?”

Shit.

“I like you, Journey. But I don”t believe that Detective Winter cared so much about this case that he killed himself after coming up empty during a search. In fact, I don”t believe he came up empty at all. I believe he was right on the money when he requested the search warrant. I believe you knew about Sierra Cross’s body all along … and I believe you murdered your partner for love.”

He actually put it all together. He figured it out. The game is over.

Sir, I hope you”re ready.

“That’s insane,” I say, looking past Summers toward the darkness of the hall behind him.

“Is it?” he asks, clearly happy with himself. “If you want to clear your name, you”re going to have to have much more evidence than, ‘That’s insane,’ Detective.”

I look past him again, then make direct eye contact.

“When I say it’s insane, I don”t mean that your story is insane,” I tell him as I sit up straight and wipe away all looks and mannerisms of guilt and shame. “I mean that it’s insane that you figured it all out. It’s also insane that you and your recording will never make it out of this house.”

I watch gleefully as Summers’ eyes shrink into a squint, his mind asking if I’m bluffing and wondering how he’ll escape if I’m not. We have a staring contest, wondering what the other will do, but I don”t have to move because I have the answers to the test and he doesn”t.

I guess he decides that I’m not bluffing, because his hand slowly leaves the table and starts to reach for the service weapon holstered on his hip. But the smile that takes over my face makes his muscles stiffen.

“Tsk tsk, Marty,” you say coldly as you emerge from the dark hall and place the six-inch hunting knife at Summers’ throat. “I wouldn”t do that if I were you.”