Chapter 22
We spent dinner, which was a sumptuous spaghetti, I have no idea how he mastered in thirty minutes, talking about the case, almost as if we didn’t just have sex.
GhostEye finding Red Truck Man gives us something solid to talk about. A shared focus. We don’t have to fill the space with what we’re not saying, and even though avoidance is technically in the room, it doesn’t feel like it.
Anton and I always seem to be talking about relevant things that we both care about. We’re also both people who like to think a lot before we speak. Which is probably why there has been a ton of overt praise and attraction, but we haven’t had “the talk.”
We need to do that, and I especially want to define, or redefine this before my mom comes.
But am I ready to give a full-blown relationship a go?
I cannot, absolutely can not, enter a relationship with this man if I don’t mean it. He’s been hurt. He’s the father of my baby.
This isn’t a trial run.
And I’ve only ever treated boyfriends as trial runs. Like buying a dress at the store, wearing it to an event with the tag on, with full intention of returning the pretty little thing.
But I feel it in my bones.
Anton is a keeper.
I want him in my life and can’t imagine him ever not being there. I should tell him, but now that I’ve admitted that part to myself, I’m less worried about him being right and more about me knowing how the hell to be right for him. I’ve only ever done casual.
An internal voice laughs at me, mockingly: The baby is already well beyond casual, Freya.
Just before we finished dinner, Rio texted me to make sure I got the information.
He also invited me to the ranch offices to chat if I wanted to.
I should be crawling into bed. I should be easing my aching feet out of my shoes, downing two full glasses of water, and collapsing. Instead, I’m walking under a crescent moon with Anton over to the Monarch Hills offices.
It’s the perfect chance for us to resurrect what all that meant tonight, but I’m shaking in my Nikes now. What if sex was the heat of the moment for him? What if, now that I’ve finally, for the first time in my life, decided I might be ready to commit to something bigger, he pulls back?
What do I say?
Well, I disagree, Easton. We should definitely do that again. Especially the part where you give me a mind-blowing orgasm and make me feel like the only girl in the world.
I stare at the ground and wince inside.
“Are you okay, honey?”
Honey. He started calling me that from time to time after we all joked I was a “honey trap” in the last big case Shadow Justice cracked involving Lara’s stalker. I never thought much of it, but now, I want it to be so much more than an inside joke. I want to be his honey.
“Yeah…” But I don’t mean it. “I’m thinking about the case…”
He lets out a one-syllable laugh. “No, you’re not.”
He knows damn well I’m still thinking about the line we just crossed, and now I know he’s thinking about it, too.
“No, I’m not,” I admit. But I’m not ready to talk about tonight.
This is exactly what I knew would happen if I fell for him. I’d lose my focus on work.
“But I should be.”
We do need to talk, but…work first.
“Understood,” he replies.
And of course, that understanding only makes me fall harder because he’s so damn mature. So…patient.
In the past, when I wanted time to think about things, men would always push me. They couldn’t stand not having insight, information. I guessed it was because without knowing what I was thinking, they couldn’t control the narrative.
Men never let me have time to think, and if I’m pushed, my default answer is no. No doesn’t send you jumping off cliffs. No doesn’t get you in trouble the way yes does.
We walk in silence, though I note it isn’t awkward or standoffish, and I’m so grateful for Anton right now.
He deserves a yes.
But tonight, I acted before I thought, and I need time to rake some common sense over the evening and see what I think through my head, not my heart.
Lead with your mind, baby… That was the advice I was always given.
We reach the large outbuilding where the Monarch Hills offices are, and the ranch is quiet around us, save for the occasional nicker of a horse.
We climb the stairs to the offices that are on the second floor and enter them.
Rio, Ava, and Enzo are here. Sometimes, I wonder if these people ever sleep.
I think all three of them are workaholics, but then again, I’m here, too.
I guess when you find something you love doing, it doesn’t feel like work.
“Hey,” Ava says, glancing up from her laptop. “Sorry to drag you out so late. I bet you’re desperate to hear what we found, but your baby wants to sleep.”
“Yeah.” I rub my belly. “But for the next twenty weeks, cop duties first.”
Rio kicks back from the table, eyeing me with something new in his rough gaze. Respect maybe? Anyway, it’s the first time he’s looked at me like I’m on his level.
We all sit around the conference table where Enzo clicks at his laptop keyboard until he finally turns it around and shows me an image of a young man with brown, floppy hair and deep-set eyes. Early to mid-twenties.
“Andy Tarmigan,” Enzo says from behind his Clark Kent glasses. “He was the facial recognition match GhostEye pulled up from the bodycam images.”
I glance back at the photo of the kind of guy I imagine belongs to a fraternity and calls everyone “dude,” even when it’s inappropriate.
Ava picks up the explanation. “Tarmigan is twenty-three. His image matched with multiple social media posts from women on campus at San Jose Tech… There was a lot of heat on him in those posts. A couple of years ago, he was expelled from college due to allegations of multiple roofie cases brought against him.”
Rio leans forward, perching on his elbows. “He was acquitted.”
But innocence isn’t always true.
I point to Enzo’s laptop. “Is there anything you’ve seen on Tarmigan that suggests he could be involved with Zoe?”
Enzo types again, eyes on his screen, multitasking like his brain is wired to solve twelve things at once. “After the expulsion, he got his real estate license. Not long before Zoe’s death.”
Ava finishes his sentence. “He showed her some shop space in Mount Hamilton.”
“How do you know that?”
Her hazel eyes sparkle. “Don’t ask.”
Did she hack into Tarmigan’s schedule at work?
I take her sage advice and don’t ask. If I know, I’m complicit.
I recall my conversation with Ingram. “Zoe wanted to be a florist.”
A sad shroud falls over the room. Selling flowers is such a bright, cheerful thing Zoe wanted to do, and it will never happen.
“Anyway, that’s where we stopped.” Rio slides a manila folder my way. “Tarmigan’s contact details, employer, printout of socials… I’m sure you can handle it from here, but let us know if our tools can make it easier at any point.”
As much as I want to sit here with these guys all night, they’re right.
I can handle this. I can research socials and see if Andy and Zoe were more than business acquaintances.
I know how to write up a line of questioning for when I interview Tarmigan.
I. Can. Handle. It. And they believe I can, too.
In every job I’ve had, I’ve tried to keep one step ahead of how people saw me. The outsider. The idealist. The intern. The girl with a clipboard asking too many questions.
But tonight, nobody’s patting me on the head. Nobody’s double-checking my work. They’re handing me the folder and stepping back. Like I belong here. Just as Anton assured me.
And for the first time since I got this badge, I believe I belong here, too.
I slide the folder open and skim the summary Enzo pulled. If this guy’s our link to Zoe, we need to tread carefully. But I glance back up at Rio, who’s already turned back to his computer screen, working.
If Tarmigan had something to do with Zoe’s death, Rio’s ten-year-old case is unlikely to be part of a pattern. This man would have been thirteen a decade ago.
I’m halfway through reading the contents in the manila folder when Anton leans in next to me.
His palm lands lightly on my thigh.
My breath stumbles. My brain blanks. All I can think about is how close his hand is to where I still feel him—where I still want him. And we’re sitting at a damn conference table.
“Should we get you home?” he asks softly.
Home.
I nod because I’m tired as hell.
We step out into the frosty night, breath fogging in the air as we make our way back to the house we’re both calling home—at least for now.
My fingers stay tight around the folder, like gripping it harder might keep my thoughts from scattering.
Work first, Freya.
Because this is the career I chose, and I care about doing it well—about not cutting corners just because my life has gotten complicated. And also, because the faster I get answers, the faster I can put this to bed and stop dragging it around with me.
I need my head clear for what actually matters right now.
I only have twenty weeks left of this pregnancy, and I don’t want to spend them half-present, distracted by a case that should already be moving toward resolution.
I want to earn the space to enjoy being pregnant, without work bleeding into every quiet moment.
I need to head to Mount Hamilton. Track down the Tarmigans. I’ll need to book the dreaded meeting with Zoe Marshall’s parents—to confirm anything Andy says about how he and Zoe knew each other, to hear their version, to dredge up the details that might not have made it into the manila folder.
And threaded through all of that, I’m supposed to show up for a twenty-week scan and a visit from my mother and grandma.
When it rains, it pours.
The walk back is a haze until Anton brushes my shoulder as he leans in to unlock the door.
It’s barely a touch, but my body fizzles instantly. His size. His warmth. The memory of being held down by all that strength—of him inside me—still humming under my skin.
I straighten and force the feeling back where it belongs.
There will be time for us. Time to talk about whatever the hell happened tonight, and what we’re doing about it going forward.
Right now, my mind isn’t in a place to make decisions I can’t take back. If I say friends again after tonight, that’s a second line in the sand—and Anton is a man who believes in certainty. This time, he’d know I meant it. And if I ask for more…there’s no walking that back either.
Anton catches my gaze and offers me a soft smile as the door swings open, and my chest tightens again.
If I ask for him, I’ll need to give him everything I’ve got. He deserves that from me.
For now, I find what peace I can in knowing that whatever comes next—baby, Mom, Andy, the Marshalls—I’m not facing it alone.
I know this man can handle the truth, as long as we’re honest with each other.
I just need to keep my heart out the way long enough to do my job.