Chapter 14
Nico let his car sit in idle for a good five minutes outside Kyle Garrett’s apartment building. He killed the engine and sat for another minute more. Seth—whom he’d asked to come along for no other reason than he didn’t altogether trust himself to do this alone—seemed to understand and sat quietly in the passenger seat while Nico mulled things over in his mind.
What the hell was he doing here? Why didn’t he let someone else handle it? Was it curiosity? Did he simply want to lay eyes on the asshole, talk to him face to face, gauge exactly who he was dealing with? Was it some kind of sick excitement—a relief, maybe?—to have a lead for the murder case that had absolutely nothing to do with himself and his past? Or was it something else entirely? Something to do with the rage burning in his gut and the itch to put blood on his knuckles every time he pictured the bruises on Lexie’s neck? West had mentioned his problem with “challenging authority” the first time they’d met, which was just a roundabout way of saying Nico didn’t always follow the rules. It was true. And as he ignored every part of his brain screaming at him to drive away and let someone else make the arrest; he had a bad feeling his file would be getting a page or two thicker before the day was out.
Finally, Nico exited the cruiser and crossed the street, Seth right behind him.
Like everything else in the dilapidated corner of Mercy Cove, the apartment building was dank and drab. Outside, paint flecked off the once-white weatherboard in splintered chunks and windowsills hung broken and crooked. The inside wasn’t much better. Mold grew in the corners, dust and rubbish lined the floor, and, somewhere in the distance, the steady drip of a leak echoed up the halls.
“Guess the landlord is on vacation,” Seth commented dryly.
“Yeah, along with the cleaner, the manager, and the super,” Nico replied. The air was thick with damp. He shook his head. “What’s a rich guy like Garrett doing living in a dump like this?”
“Last I heard, his parents cut him off,” Seth said. “Guess they thought it might force him to grow up.”
“Clearly it’s not working.”
Climbing the stairs, Nico found the door with 2a nailed to the front of it and gave three loud, steady thumps.
They waited.
Nothing.
He pounded on the door again.
Still nothing.
Seth glanced around, as if making sure their quarry wasn’t hiding along the walls or ceiling. Either Garrett was ignoring them—in which case, smart man—or he wasn’t home. They retraced their steps back out to the car. Nico wasn’t all that surprised. Knowing the police would come looking for him eventually, Garrett had probably cleared out. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to set up surveillance out front, in case he returned. Nico was about to unlock the cruiser and inform Seth that he was on first watch when he spotted a bar half a block away. The Dirty Dog. He wandered closer to it. Fitting. The place was a dive, somewhere you’d likely contract hepatitis just from sitting on a stool, and exactly the kind of hangout a rat like Kyle might scuttle into for a drink.
“What’s up?” Seth asked from the sidewalk.
“You ever been in here?” Nico called back.
“Yeah, all the time. Ninety-nine cent margaritas on Tuesday nights.”
Nico twisted his lips at the sarcasm. “Come on. Let’s check it out.”
Inside, it took a few seconds for Nico’s eyes to adjust to the darkness, but once they did, he noted his initial assessment had been spot on. A long, wooden bar lined the entire right wall, liquor stains and carved graffiti marking every inch of it. Worn tables and chairs he had no intention of occupying took up most of the space. Dull bulbs hung from the ceiling, illuminating just enough to see where you were going while cleverly hiding every nasty thing a brighter light would have revealed. The floor was scattered with peanut shells, dropped change, and god-only-knew what else. And the smell, somewhere between BO and fish, was all the encouragement he needed to ensure this visit was as short as possible. A lone bartender lifted his chin, wary eyes giving Nico a once-over as he wiped a glass with a cloth. Nico returned the greeting, scanning the handful of sullen patrons. No one stood out.
About to turn on his heel and call it a day, he stopped short when his gaze landed on two men seated at the far wall. The one facing him looked to be about a hundred and fifty years old—white beard, tired eyes, arm shaking as he surveyed the hand of cards he held in front of him. After tossing another two chips into the pot, he sat back, the same unsteady hand raising a beer to his lips as he smirked at his playing partner—the one Nico was most interested in. He had cropped blond hair and based on what Nico could see of his profile, was decades younger than his companion. And a dead ringer for the fight-picking patron at Rusty’s the other night.
Was that him? Thinking back, Nico was sure Frank had said the man’s name was Kyle, but he never made the connection until now. Had he already met Lexie’s ex and not realized who he was? A glance at Seth—who nodded discreetly—confirmed it.
Nico walked right up to the table. “Kyle Garrett?”
The blond didn’t so much as look up from his poker game. “Who’s asking?”
“Nico Dominici. I’m here to talk to you about Lexie Bowen.”
Garrett blinked, every emotion advertising itself in his features. Confusion. Recognition. Panic. Hostility. Then a facade of casual indifference. “Ah, I remember you. You’re the asshole who thinks he can fuck my wife.”
In his peripheral, Nico noted the customers behind him making a hasty getaway. Clearly, they knew better than to stick around a place like this when trouble was brewing. Good. He could use the privacy.
“She’s not yours anymore, Kyle” He made each word clear and dogmatic. “And as of this moment, you’re going to stay away from her.”
“Oh, is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
Garrett eyed him. Between the fidgeting and the dilated pupils, Nico knew it wasn’t just alcohol playing a part in the man’s erratic demeanor. His forehead reflected a light sheen of sweat under the dull bulb. His knees bounced uncontrollably under the table. Agitated energy rolled off him in waves, and Nico realized he’d have to watch him carefully. The guy was like a spring-loaded pin, ready to snap.
“She send you down here to threaten me? Flash your shiny badge and I run off like a mongrel dog?” Garrett sneered. “Does she really think that’s going to work?”
Nico paid no heed to the questions. “Stay away from Lexie. Stay away from her workplace. Her house. Her friends. I won’t warn you again.”
After a few moments of contemplation, Garrett pursed his lips. “You know what? You’re right. Maybe it is time to move on. I mean, Lex clearly has. Might be time for me to do the same.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Too easy. Nico didn’t trust it for a second.
“Yeah,” Garrett mused. “Tell you what, I think I’d better pay her one last visit, though, you know? To say goodbye. Show her how much I appreciated meeting you. Tell her how happy I am for her.”
The way he said “happy,” like it was pure venom dripping from his mouth, had Nico’s fists itching to hit something—namely him.
“Maybe I’ll surprise her one night when she’s all alone in that big old house in the middle of nowhere. It’d be easy. Just break a window, slide into that nice warm bed, and remind her why she married me. It’s been a long time since she’s felt me inside her, but not too long . . .”
Behind him, Nico could sense Seth’s anger building as fast as his own.
“Have you fucked her yet?” Garrett laughed, like he already knew the answer and thought Nico all the more pathetic for it. “Man, you don’t know what you’re missing. That body.” His eyes glazed, like he was remembering every detail. “And the things she can do with that mouth. How about I spend some time breaking her in for you—”
Nico had managed to listen calmly as Kyle tested him, playing on the fact that he was a cop who would never blatantly assault a man in a bar in broad daylight. He’d never planned to do it, either. But then he just had to threaten Lexie . . .
Interrupting whatever filth Garrett was about to spew next, Nico grabbed him by the shirt collar and slammed his face into the table, startling the elderly man who almost dropped his drink. Garrett’s nose busted on the wood. Blood spurted out and he made a garbled sound of shock and fury before Nico was on him again, pressing his face down with more force than necessary. He took his handcuffs from his belt and snarled into Garrett’s upturned ear. “Now you listen to me you sack of shit. Lexie is with me now, and I protect what’s mine. You come near her again, I’ll break your fucking legs.”
“What the fuck?! This is police brutality!”
“No,” Nico growled. “This is my brutality. And after the shit you pulled last night, you’re lucky you’re still breathing.”
“I have rights. You can’t do this. Ed!” he shouted to the barkeep. “Ed, call the chief. Get him down here right now.”
Nico hauled the bleeding, raging mess of a man upright by the scruff of his shirt and swung them around toward the bar, all the while listening to Garrett complain about having rights, that Chief West was going to hear about this, and that Nico would be sorry he ever laid a hand on him.
“Hate to tell you this, Kyle, but your days of having the local PD in your back pocket are over,” Nico told him.
It wasn’t until he threw him against the bar and slapped handcuffs around his wrists that the weasel stopped talking long enough to frown in confusion.
“Wait—What the hell? You’re just gonna arrest me on one crazy bitch’s word? Ed!” he pleaded. “Are you seeing this, man? Do something.”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” Nico said in as pleasant tone as he could manage. “You’re also wanted for questioning regarding the murder of Isabelle Moss. You remember her, don’t you? From what I hear, you certainly should.”
Silence. Complete, utter silence. A blessed sound.
Leaving Garrett to gather the tumble of thoughts that were likely tripping over themselves in his mind, Nico handed him off to Seth and approached the bartender.
“Mr. Garrett tripped on a barstool,” he said, handing over a hundred.
The man’s apprehensive gaze flicked between all three of them, then he leaned over and took the cash. “Happens all the time.”
“Well, would you look at that?” A deep, drunk voice slurred from the darkest corner of the room. Nico stopped. He hadn’t known another customer—besides the ancient relic at Garrett’s table—had remained. Squinting, he could just make out George Riley sitting with his back to the commotion.
Shit.
“Lieutenant Dominici finally caught a bad guy,” he sneered. “Thank you for keeping our good community safe.” He gave a mock salute before returning to his drink.
Nico knew he should go over there, try to do some damage control, but the fact was, he had no excuse for what he’d done. It didn’t matter that Garrett had meant everything he’d said and been more than capable of following through, or that it had felt fucking great to hurt him, because in every way that mattered, it was still wrong.
Nico turned and shoved Garrett out of the bar.
The loud clang of the holding cell slamming shut was an ominous thing, echoing through the Mercy Cove PD like the executioner’s guillotine.
Nico sighed, turning away from the sight of Lexie’s outraged and bloodied husband, and went into his office to collapse heavily into his chair.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He was not a violent man, not really. Sure, growing up in Eastie had been rough, and he’d been in enough scuffles as a teen to learn to hold his own. And, yeah, he didn’t exactly have a desk job. But he’d never, ever gone out of his way to seek a fight. Attacking a civilian like that? If anyone had the gall to report him, he could kiss his career goodbye. Just like that, everything he’d worked for, gone. Maybe that’s what he deserved.
Replaying the events in his mind, he could pinpoint the exact moment he’d lost control. It wasn’t just about Lexie being disrespected. He could have handled that—assholes will be assholes—but Garrett’s sheer contempt for Lexie’s right to live a free and happy life, the way he knew he could get away with the things he was threatening, that’s what drove Nico over the edge.
He’d been the one who snapped, not Garrett. He’d snapped because he cared about Lexie, plain and simple. And it was because he cared about her that he now felt all kinds of guilt over what he’d just done. Garrett was obviously reckless, dangerous, and uninhibited when it came to how far he pushed things with the law. His friend, the chief, had made sure of that. By taking matters into his own hands, Nico had possibly just made things worse. Unless Kyle was found guilty of murdering Isabelle Moss, then it wouldn’t matter. He’d be in prison.
Which brought to mind the other problem. Nico had arrested enough suspects in his career to recognize the subtle signs of guilt. It didn’t matter if a person was pleading clean hands, pleading mercy, or feeling as justified in their actions as a shady politician preaching “we’re all in this together” while they robbed the people blind, the look in their eyes was always the same. Haunted. Whether it be fear, regret, or just the knowledge of their secret, they all lacked the innocence of someone who hadn’t stained their soul in an unforgivable way. And Garrett didn’t fit the profile. He was a drunk, a wife beater, and an all-around asshole, but as much as Nico hated to admit it, even to himself, he didn’t believe he was a killer.
Unfortunately, gut feelings didn’t factor into a police investigation, so here he would remain, innocent until proven guilty—if they could prove he was guilty.
Tired of thinking about it, Nico pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Lexie.
“Hey, it’s me,” he said to her voice mail. “We picked up Kyle. He’s in lockup, probably be here a while.” Pausing to consider his next words, he finished with a simple, “I thought you’d want to know.”
He disconnected, then stood and aimed himself in the direction of the nearest coffee pot, bumping into Frank halfway up the hall.
“Hey, kid. Nice work,” he said, indicating their newest guest seated behind bars.
Nico followed his gaze and winced at his handy work, making a mental note to throw a wet cloth and some band aids into the holding cell so Garrett could at least clean himself up. “Yeah.”
Frank frowned. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Nico said quietly. “Something isn’t adding up. He didn’t even try to hide or leave town.”
“Like a guilty person might?” Frank surmised.
Nico gave him a look, letting the silence speak for itself.
“He was there the night she was killed, and he failed to come forward,” Frank reminded him. “That’s one helluva red flag, boss.”
“Maybe he panicked.”
“And maybe he killed her.” Frank tilted his head. “Why are you defending him all of a sudden.”
“I’m not,” Nico replied firmly. “I’m just trying to think objectively.”
“Well, objectively speaking, that little prick deserved to trip over a barstool, so don’t beat yourself up over it.”
“Seth told you.”
It wasn’t a question, but Frank answered it anyway. “Yep.”
“The chief is gonna chew my ass over this.”
Frank smiled again. “Yep.”
“Hey,” Nico stopped him before he sauntered away. “Why didn’t you tell me he was Lexie’s husband that first night he tried to pick a fight with me?”
Frank’s grin was all cheek. “You didn’t ask.”
Nico shook his head at his retreating back.
Asshole.