28. Reid
Chapter 28
Reid
T O SAY I slept like shit would be the direst understatement of understatements.
Come to think of it, I’m not sure I slept at all.
I splash water on my face, chug a bottle of water, and throw on my running clothes. After a cursory check of the security feeds and viewing a playback to be certain no one came around either of our houses last night, I step outside and break into a dead sprint. Anything not to think about the words that Willa said.
I wanted her to learn to stand up for herself, sure. But to do it with me was a curve ball I didn’t see coming.
My chest aches. I gulp in air and take a turn on the sidewalk like I’m some kind of Formula 1 racer. With every pound of my shoes on the pavement, all I can think about is her. I think you should leave.
What’s worse is that I planned to tell her I loved her.
I shake my head and push harder.
No, I wasn’t. I’m a fucking coward, and I wasn’t going to tell her shit.
How does a big-city guy like me waltz into this town and get schooled by a tiny little diner cook ?
Because you’re an ignorant, egotistical asshole, that’s how.
I head to visit Uncle Jack after I get cleaned up and put on my uniform, radioing Betty on my way over to tell her what I’m doing.
Jack is sitting up and finishing something that is supposed to be breakfast, but based on the grimace he wears as he stares at it glumly, I don’t expect he’s enjoying it too much. “Chief.”
His expression morphs as he looks up to grin at me. “Good to see you, son. Come on in and distract me from this.” He pushes the tray to the side and folds his hands in his lap.
No point in beating around the bush. “I need to talk to you about the case.”
He nods. “I figured.”
I look around, then lean forward and lower my voice. “Is anyone supposed to be coming by soon? A doctor? Ox? Thompson?”
Jack narrows his eyes. “I know that trick, Reid. Hell, I may have even taught it to you. Shut that door and tell me what Thompson did.”
Raising my eyebrows, I do as he says and pull a chair close to him. I’m not interested in my hunch being broadcast to the world. “First, answer me something. I know I asked already, but I’m going to ask again. Did you get any kind of look at the guy who shot you?”
His face hardens with frustration. “No. Someone knocked at my door, and I went to answer it. I open the door, and something gets tossed at my chest. I bend down to catch it, reflexes and all that, and the next thing I know, a pair of black boots and pants are in my line of vision. Then I hear a pop, and I’m shot.” He shakes his head. “I’ve gone over it a million ways. Whoever it was, they knew when to strike, and they had a clean shot. If I’d not bent down to grab that stupid rabbit foot…”
My jaw clenches so hard I might crack a tooth. “I know. That’s their signature. They left two on my front door in the weeks leading up to them shooting you.” I sigh and rub a hand over my face. “I’m…Jesus, Jack. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
“No,” he responds, his tone brooking no argument. “You listen to me, Reid, and listen well. This isn’t your fault.”
“They’re after me .”
“That may be, but you’re not the one who shot me. So it’s not your fault.”
I shake my head, unconvinced. “Your word against mine, Chief.”
He sighs. “Just as stubborn as your dad, you know that? You going to tell me your hunch?”
I scoot forward in answer. “I asked Betty to pull all the calls that came into the station over the past two months. Then, I asked her to pull one more month because I was having a hard time believing what I was seeing.”
“What kind of reports?”
“Any time it was about a crime. Not the ones about lost pets and resetting the town clock—the real ones.”
Chief smiles softly. “You look a seven-year-old in the face and tell them that their missing iguana isn’t a problem for the cops to solve and watch their reaction. I promise you, son, those are real .”
I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, small-town guy. I get it. Anyway, the pattern. Every time it was a call about something bad happening, Thompson wasn’t on shift.”
Jack stills. “What?”
I nod. “I can’t quite believe that this means he’s our guy, but I’m having a hard time wondering if he doesn’t somehow have something to do with them.” There’s more I want to say, about the way his prejudices aren’t doing the residents of this town any good and how cops like him make our jobs that much harder, but now isn’t the time.
With a sigh, my uncle says, “He wants to be chief, Reid. You need to think very carefully before you go throwing accusations like this around. ”
“Believe me, I get it. I do. But something’s off with him. Don’t tell me you never see it.”
He shrugs. “There’s always an odd duck or two on every police force. Figured that was just the role he was playing.”
My eyes bug out. “And you think it’s okay that he wants to be chief?”
Jack huffs. “Focus on the facts in front of you, Reid. Tell me more.”
With a deep breath, I detail everything I learned, and how some of it mimics a lot of the things that are signatures of the Bunnies. At the end, my uncle simply stares at me.
I hold my hands up. “It’s just a hunch.”
“You’re telling me there may be mob activity in my town? Going on right under my nose, and I’ve never seen it?”
“The Bunnies aren’t exactly the mob,” I hedge, “and I still have a hard time seeing how Thompson’s connected to them, but Jack, I don’t see any other way around it. Nothing else makes sense, despite how small-brained the man is.”
He flattens his mouth into a thin line. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Reid.”
I stand, understanding the dismissal.
“Wait a minute.”
I pause.
“How’s Willa?”
My chest fucking caves. And apparently my expression goes right along with it.
His voice softens. “What happened, son?”
I scrub my hand over my face. “It’s…complicated.”
“It can’t be more complicated than this.” He gestures at himself.
“That might not be true,” I sigh. “But I’m not ready to talk about it.”
He regards me, then finally says, “With that kind of reaction, I don’t blame you. Get out of here, then. Go work my case, will you?”
I give him a salute and turn to leave. I’ll do what he says and work the case, but I have to see Willa first. She needs to know how I really feel.
I need to say the damn words.
I’ve never said them to anyone besides my family. You’d think, for a guy who grew up with a pretty great example of what a loving relationship could look like, that I’d have had the occasion to say it before now. But I haven’t. Maybe it’s that the relationship was between a parent and step-parent; maybe it’s fear that my job would be an automatic deterrent to someone. But either way, the words need to come out of my mouth. The beach was the closest I’ve ever gotten, and my stomach nearly came out of my throat because I was so nervous to see her reaction.
I don’t even know if she’s going to speak to me. I don’t know if I’d let myself speak to me.
I’m out of the elevator and heading for the squad car when my phone dings.
It’s a picture of a dead rabbit.
Followed by a picture of Dash In Diner.
My whole world drops out from beneath my feet, and I kick into a dead run.
The drive takes too long. I break more laws than I can count to get there, my foot shaking on the gas pedal. Five minutes is an eternity. My heart is in my throat. This can’t be happening.
I leave the car two blocks away and cover the rest on foot. There’s a Closed sign on the front door, Due to plumbing issues .
Willa didn’t text me this morning. She didn’t bring Midnight over, either. What if they’ve hurt her? Or worse?
I can’t let myself think like that. I raise my hand to bang on the door and yell for whoever’s inside, but stop myself, all my training finally kicking in .
Think .
I can’t call for back-up, mainly because this entire mess is my fault and I don’t need anyone else being hurt. But also because I half expect Betty would send out a bulletin alerting the entire town to come rescue the new cop, despite her help earlier.
I go around to the back, staying close to the perimeter and checking my surroundings as I move. Nothing is out of the ordinary. In fact, there’s even a plumbing truck parked back here, but a quick glance tells me that the sign on the white truck is just one big removable sign. Adrenaline ratchets up.
It’s definitely the Bunnies.
Using the dumpster as cover, I get as close as I can, and that’s when I hear crying. I can’t tell who it is, though, so I crouch down and get into a position where I can actually see inside.
Barbara, Dean, and Goldie are tied up in the kitchen. I can’t see them very well, but I know it’s them. A tall, lanky man stands above them, lazily pointing a gun in their direction while he speaks to someone on the phone. Another man who must spend all his downtime at the gym swivels his attention between Dean, whose feet I can see, and the women, both of whom are crying.
Where is Willa?
“Yeah, we’ve got ‘em. He’ll show up. We’re positive.” A pause. “He saw the photos. Idiot has his phone settings to show it as read.” He chuckles.
I barely suppress a groan. I really am an idiot. The last few months of my life flash before my eyes, and I realize that very damn thing could have been how I ultimately got made and then shot.
A commotion at the front has everyone going quiet. I listen, then bite back a curse. Jerry. The lanky man gets off the phone while the beefy one takes off to see what the fuss is about.
Now’s my chance.