Chapter 14
Roman
“Any chance Craig Perry had anything to do with it?”
Dougie’s face was grim as they discussed Elenie’s injuries in Roman’s office.
“What makes you say that?”
Since Elenie had told him nothing, Roman was none the wiser about who had hurt her. The lack of knowledge rubbed raw on his simmering temper.
Dougie relayed what Summer had told him about the run-in with Perry at the Rusty Barrel, plus the little he knew about the Englishman. Roman had an inkling Milo would be able to tell him more. Leaving the station on time for once, he placed a call and they arranged to meet up for an early drink. He’d pick Milo’s brains about Perry at the bar.
As he turned his key in the ignition, Roman’s cell pinged in his pocket. Elenie’s name, next to the text, was unexpected.
Elenie:
Thank you so much for the phone. I will guard it with my life. Please don’t pity me.
What could he say to that?
He did feel sorry for her—sorrier than he could express. Not pity exactly. But compassion, definitely.
And he was angry, too. Furious at whoever had lashed out and hurt her. Was it Perry? Or was it Frank Dax? Exerting power and control through brute strength was repellent. Somehow, Roman would find out what was going on. Police work was regularly more of a marathon than a sprint, and he had grim persistence in spades. No one knew better that swift justice and easy arrests were the exception rather than the rule. Pushing his phone back into his pocket, Roman headed for the Barrel.
Luke, just back from his dad’s house, caught a ride to the bar with Milo. They beat Roman there and had beers already lined up when he joined them.
“Craig Perry’s a dick,”
Milo said when he asked about the Brit.
“Say what you mean, buddy.”
Luke snorted.
“How do you not upset more of your clients?”
Roman raised an eyebrow.
“A dick in what way?”
“Every way. I don’t like the guy. He’s just too much of everything—too loud, too confident, too smiley, too slick. If he came with instructions, they would just say, ‘Don’t trust me. I’m a dick.’”
Milo took another swallow from his bottle.
“He’s ruffled a few feathers at the business guild, although a lot of people think there’s some merit in his plans for a new business center.”
“Ruffled them how?”
“Initially, he put feelers out for local investors. When they didn’t jump in as fast as he wanted, Perry piled on some pressure, playing people off against each other. It didn’t go down well.”
“And?”
“Seems now he’s looking outside of the town for the money. There’s been talk he won’t get the planning application he needs anyway, so who knows if the project will even get off the ground.”
“If it does, it shouldn’t. It’s a crappy site for a business center,”
Luke interrupted.
“It used to be the old fuel station owned by the Deerings. I’ve seen an overview of his construction budget and it’s a joke. He’s made no allowance for removing the underground fuel storage tanks. The valves and pipe vents are still there. You can see them from the access road. To get that site ready for construction will cost a hell of a lot more than he’s allowed, whether he gets the planning application through or not.”
“Why’re you interested in Perry?”
Milo asked.
“This got anything to do with Elenie Dax?”
Luke leaned back in the booth.
While they finished their beers and started on another three, Roman gave them the rundown. Though his expression never changed, underneath he seethed, quietly and coldly. If Perry was the cause of Elenie’s bruises, he would find out.
Bone-weary from a night of broken sleep, he ate a late dinner when he got home. Not in the mood for silence, Roman flicked on the TV and slumped on the couch, stretching out across the cushions.
He watched a soccer game, commentary droning in the background, with one eye on his phone. The temptation to answer Elenie’s earlier message tugged at him, but he couldn’t think of a suitable reply. Professional boundaries were a minefield in his line of work. Although he could and would argue his right of free association with anyone who wasn’t a known felon or a drug user, Roman hadn’t ventured onto shaky ground before this. It took him aback to feel so conflicted now.
When his cell pinged with an incoming message, he knocked it straight off the arm of the couch; it skittered across the floor. He hit his elbow on the coffee table.
“Crap, damn, and double fuck!”
Zena:
We need to talk.
Great. The phrase every man, everywhere, most wanted to hear.
Roman couldn’t think of a single reason for Zena to get in touch and had no interest in knowing. She’d made her feelings clear the last time they’d seen each other, and he was fine with that. Just six weeks into being home, his life in the city with Zena was already beginning to feel like it had happened to someone else.
No, we really don’t
It was remarkable how fast his ex-fiancée had faded from his mind—how wrong she seemed for him now. He hadn’t opened up to her when he was crumbling in Detroit, when every day was a pit of horror and he woke each morning soaked in sweat. They should have been able to talk about it, but he could never get the words out. And somehow she hadn’t noticed the difference in him, even when he saw the dread written clearly on his face in the mirror.
Zena had reacted to his secondment like he’d chosen to do this just to mess with her, when the choice hadn’t been Roman’s at all. Her lack of empathy and understanding was the death knell in their relationship. He’d been desperate for someone to catch him, but she’d stepped back and let him fall. His head too full of ghosts to spare room for her disdain, he’d felt nothing but a numbed relief when they parted ways.
Throwing his phone down onto the coffee table, Roman headed upstairs to grab a shower. He was on another early shift tomorrow, so turning in soon would be a good idea. Zena was out of his mind before he hit the top step.
A chance meeting with Otto the next morning gave him enough distance and an unexpected reason to send a simple text to Elenie.
How are you today?
There was no answer until mid-morning, when his cell pinged just as Roman was mulling over timesheets and staffing rosters. He opened her message and a slow smile lifted his lips.
Elenie:
Feeling a little better, thank you. I might still make the Unicycle Championship qualifiers next month. Fingers crossed.
Why use two wheels when you can use one?
He beat a tattoo on his thigh with his pen and waited. She must have been on a break because his phone pinged almost immediately.
Elenie:
My thoughts exactly.
Milo had a unicycle. Neither of us could stay on the damn thing. What’s your secret?
Elenie:
A good breakfast, the right shoes and a little magic.
Roman rested his forearms on his desk, enjoying her quirky humor.
We went with balance and determination.
Elenie:
Naive
With a chuckle, he decided to grab the moment he’d been leading up to, even as he remained torn over the wisdom of the suggestion he was about to make.
I saw Otto in town this morning. You up for pizza on his deck tomorrow night?
This time more than a couple of minutes went by before Elenie began typing. The message bubble appeared and disappeared several times, while Roman fidgeted like a child at a church wedding. He told himself he needed to question her about the assault. He had an official duty of care to explore the matter further. That’s why he’d fixed this up with Otto. The old man was concerned about her. Roman was concerned about her.
He expected an excuse but yet again she surprised him.
Elenie:
Sounds good. What time?
Duty aside, it was disconcerting how much her acceptance eased the tightness in his chest.