Chapter Thirty-Six
Parker
Four a.m. broke our agreement. The past couple of weeks, I’ve managed to ignore it and, eventually, it got bored and let me fall back asleep.
Today, it chose violence. By a quarter to five, I gave up, started a load of laundry and went for a run. My stitches aren’t thrilled with me, but all this rest has been too much. I kept it to three miles. Restraint is important. Or so I’ve heard.
My eyes feel sanded down, but I had time for two full cups of coffee before I left the apartment.
My travel mug tucked in the crook of my arm, I push through the station’s double doors at seven forty-five to find Nate’s already in the conference room.
Shit. I was hoping to beat him in. I swear the man sleeps less than I do.
“Hey.” I drop into the chair I’ve claimed this past week, painfully aware the one next to me is empty. I’m not sure if Eliot’s planning on showing up today, or if he’s working another angle.
He left after he walked me home from the farmers market, helped me put the fruits and vegetables away, and held me until I was steady again. And though we texted for an hour last night while watching an episode of This Old House, we kept things light, and I still don’t know what to do with that.
“You’re limping,” Nate says, frowning. “What happened?”
“I went for a run. Don’t lecture me. I needed cardio.” It’s the truth, even if it’s not all of it.
He nods, likely seeing more than I meant to show. He always does. “Don’t let AJ catch you, or I’ll be interviewing our piece-of-shit fire safety inspector alone.”
“Who?” Despite the overabundance of caffeine I’ve had today, it feels like I’m thinking through quicksand.
“The guy who signed off on the final Aldrich inspection. Todd Ferris. I pulled his info late Friday.” Nate slides a bright green file folder across the table.
It’s thin. Ferris’s license number along with his City of Austin ID photo, a background check dated seven years ago when he started with Apex Building Solutions, and his last three known addresses. No arrests. Not even a parking ticket.
“This guy’s cleaner than soap.” I meet Nate’s gaze. “Either he’s careful as fuck, or he’s not our guy.”
My partner nods. “If we brief AJ now, we can be at Apex’s offices when they open at nine. Feel like taking a little field trip?”
“Only if we can stop at Dot’s for lunch on the way back. It’s been two weeks since I’ve had a milkshake.”
Nate chuckles. “Fine, Captain Brain Freeze. But tomorrow, we’re getting Om Acaí.”
“No. Tomorrow you’re getting Om Acaí. That shit is disgusting. Besides, I seem to recall you promisin’ me unlimited snacks. Time to pay up.”
Pushing back from the table, Nate huffs. “I made that offer under duress. You can’t hold me to it.”
I tuck the folder under my arm and pick up my travel mug. “Watch me.”
AJ’s leaning back in his chair, coffee cup in one hand, his cell phone in the other, smiling.
I rap twice on his door frame. “Chief? Got a minute?”
He stares at me, his brows furrowed for a beat. “Come on in. Shut the door.”
As soon as we’re cut off from the rest of the bullpen, he shakes his head. “Ain’t never gonna get used to hearin’ you call me ‘Chief,’ Parker.”
“You could have turned down the promotion,” I offer. “But then Harris never would’ve retired and I’d be on desk duty for the rest of my career.”
Nate takes the chair next to me, his left hand in the air and the other over his heart. “I promise to call you ‘Cap’ for the rest of this debrief as a personal thank you for not leaving me without a partner in the field.”
“He’d bring a spreadsheet to every crime scene, Chief.” After a beat, I add, “ And highlighters.”
AJ throws his head back and laughs. “That’d go over about as well as a screen door on a submarine. Tell me you’ve got somethin’ on these fires? It’s been four days since the press conference, and the Castillo family deserves some answers.”
I cringe. Rosalie’s drawing is tucked away in the front pocket of my dress shirt. “You got our case notes on Friday night?”
“Yup. But if all you have is a company name, that ain’t enough for an arrest.” He taps his keyboard a few times. “Accordin’ to the payroll records Nate pulled, they’ve got nine inspectors workin’ for them. You gonna interview every one of ‘em?”
“We don’t have to.” Nate runs a hand through his shaggy hair, sitting up a little straighter. “I matched the signature on the Aldrich suppression system approval to one Todd Ferris. We’re headed over to Apex now.”
“He know you’re comin’?” AJ asks.
I pass Nate the folder and brace my hands on the arms of AJ’s guest chair. “You trained us better than that, Chief. Ferris won’t know what hit him.”
This time of the morning, the drive downtown should take less than fifteen minutes, but Nate refuses to get within three car lengths of the street sweeper on Grand.
“Clearly you don’t appreciate the amount of work it takes to keep this car in mint condition,” he says when I point out an opening for him to pass. Again.
“I appreciate that if you keep driving twenty miles an hour under the speed limit, by the time we reach Apex’s offices, it’ll be after noon, Ferris will be at lunch, and Dot’s will have run out of strawberry ice cream.”
Nate gives me the side eye. “Strawberry? Not double chocolate? Not cookies and cream? Strawberry? That’s what you’re going for today?”
“Yes. What’s wrong with strawberry? It’s a flavor.” I cross my arms, staring out the passenger side window.
“You don’t know.” His voice takes on a shocked, almost hollow tone.
I roll my eyes, then turn back to him. “Know what?”
“You only order a strawberry milkshake when there’s something wrong. Is SFMO down one arson investigator now? Do I need to stop at Home Warehouse Supply for a shovel?”
My jaw drops, I close it, and it drops again. “You think… Eliot… A shovel?”
“How else am I supposed to bury body parts?” Nate spreads the fingers of his right hand, his palm never leaving the wheel. “Look at those cuticles, Parker. They’re perfect. Besides, digging a shallow grave by hand leaves trace evidence behind. You know that.”
I should laugh. The urge is there. But I’m still stuck on the part where Nate thinks I’m capable of killing Eliot.
“Eliot’s fine. Why wouldn’t he be?”
Nate’s eyebrows disappear under hair that desperately needs a trim. “Have you forgotten Friday?”
Oh.
“We...patched things up.” The inferno currently crawling up my neck to my cheeks has me adjusting the AC vents, even though I know it won’t do a damn bit of good.
“Then what’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing. Ain’t a girl allowed to like strawberries without you makin’ it a whole thing?”
The Impala glides to a smooth stop, while the street cleaner runs the red light without a single ounce of regret. There are days I wish I could still write traffic tickets.
Nate turns, and his dark eyes bore into me.
“Three years, Parker. We’ve been going to Dot’s for three damn years, and you’ve had a strawberry milkshake exactly four times.
Your mom’s birthday—though it took me until the second year to figure that one out—and the day we worked that mass casualty event down at the fairgrounds. ”
Shit.
“Fuck it.” The light turns green, and Nate’s shoulders heave with a loud sigh. “I’m guessing you’ve spent your whole life carrying your pain alone. But I don’t think you’ve spent five minutes figuring out whether you have to.”
I swallow hard, reach for my water bottle, and drain half of it before my throat loosens enough for me to speak again.
“How’d you figure out February ninth was my mom’s birthday?” I ask, my voice cracking on the last word.
“It’s the only time you bring kolaches into the station.”
“How the hell did kolaches lead you to my mom?” The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them. And the pain they put in Nate’s eyes.
“I’m good at my job,” he says quietly, then pulls into a garage across the street from Apex’s offices.
He doesn’t say another word until he finds the perfect parking space where the Impala won’t risk a single door ding.
After he turns off the car, he returns his hands to the wheel, his fingers curling around the leather until his knuckles turn white.
“You don’t have to talk to me, Parker. But I sure hope you’re talking to someone. ”
Before he can reach for the door handle, I wrap my fingers around his forearm. “I talked to Eliot this weekend. About my mom.”
“Good.” He gives me a short nod, then tucks the keys into his pocket. “We should go before Todd gets a chance to caffeinate.”
The complete one-eighty in his demeanor knocks me sideways. “That’s it? No commentary?”
“You want commentary, I’ve got plenty. I’m choosing not to use it.” He finally cracks a small grin. “Don’t get used to the restraint. It’s costing me.”
“I’ll tell you, too. If you want. Once we get to Dot’s.”
“Okay. I’ll add it to the agenda.” He holds up his hand, and ticks items off on his fingers.
“Interview corrupt building inspector, catch arsonist, order a heart attack on a plate, consume a strawberry milkshake in record time, then pour your heart out to your partner. That’s a solid day right there.
We manage all that, AJ might even give us the rest of the week off. ”
And just like that, we’re back on solid ground. The intense craving for that strawberry milkshake is even starting to fade.
“AJ might. Chief Stone? Not a chance in hell.”