Chapter 18
Carson couldn’t let go of the Avery Shone case.
For three days, he reviewed cold cases during work hours, but at night, when Nora was asleep, he’d pull out his laptop and dig deeper into Captain Shaw’s tenure as head of the department.
He told himself it was routine. Due diligence. Making sure cases were properly handled.
But the more he looked, the more inconsistencies he found.
Evidence destroyed in the Avery Shone case. A stalking case from 2019 where the suspect’s background check mysteriously disappeared. An assault from 2020 where critical surveillance footage went missing.
All during Shaw’s tenure. All with his signature on the authorization forms.
It could be coincidence. Administrative errors. Legitimate reasons.
Or it could be something else.
“You’re doing it again.”
Carson looked up from his laptop. Nora stood in the doorway of their bedroom, wearing one of his T-shirts, hair mussed from sleep. Seducing him without even trying.
“Doing what?”
“The brooding thing,” said with an eyeroll. “It’s two in the morning, Carson. Come to bed.”
He wanted to. But he couldn’t. “I will. Just finishing up some work.”
She moved closer, peering at his screen. “Cold cases. You’ve been looking at those every night this week.”
“There’s something off about them. Evidence that disappeared, cases that went cold for no good reason.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’m probably seeing patterns that aren’t there.”
“Or you’re seeing something everyone else missed.” Nora sat on the arm of his chair. “Talk me through it.”
“You should sleep—”
“I can’t sleep when you’re out here obsessing. So talk to me. Maybe a fresh perspective will help.”
Carson hesitated, then pulled up the files.
“Okay. Look at this. Avery Shone—the woman from your building who reported feeling watched. Three years ago, she had a break-in. Same pattern as what Eugene did—things moved around, nothing stolen. Evidence was collected but then destroyed. Authorized by Captain Shaw.”
“Shaw. That’s the captain before Holloway?”
“Yeah. He retired five years ago. Moved to Arizona.” Carson switched files.
“Now look at this. Stalking case from 2019. Victim reported being followed for months. They finally got a license plate number for the suspect’s vehicle, ran a background check.
But the results disappeared from the system.
Shaw signed off on destroying the physical paperwork, claiming it was duplicated elsewhere. But I can’t find the duplicate.”
“That’s weird.”
“It gets weirder.” Another file. “Assault case from 2020. Victim was attacked in her home. Security cameras from her building caught the suspect’s face clearly.
Footage was entered into evidence. Then the hard drive failed.
Shaw authorized disposal of the corrupted drive without attempting data recovery. ”
Nora frowned. “Three cases, all involving women, all with evidence disappearing under Shaw’s watch?”
“At least three. I’ve only gone through half the cold case box. There might be more.” Carson leaned back in his chair. “It could all be legitimate. Equipment fails. Paperwork gets lost. Evidence gets destroyed for valid reasons.”
“But you don’t think it is.”
“I think there’s a pattern. And patterns mean something.” He closed his laptop, sighing with exhaustion. “I’m going to talk to Captain Holloway tomorrow. See if he remembers anything unusual about Shaw’s tenure.”
“Good.” Nora stood and held out her hand. “Now come to bed. You can’t solve cold cases if you’re exhausted.”
This time, Carson let her lead him to the bedroom, but his mind was still spinning. If Shaw had been deliberately destroying evidence, the question was why. Was he protecting someone? Covering up his own mistakes? Or was there something else going on?
And more importantly, were there victims out there who’d never gotten justice because of it?
***
The next morning, Carson requested a meeting with Captain Holloway.
“What can I do for you?” Holloway asked, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.
“I need to ask you about Captain Shaw. Specifically about how he handled evidence during his tenure.”
Holloway’s expression shifted—not quite suspicion, but definitely interest. “That’s an odd question. Why?”
Carson laid out what he’d found—the three cases, the destroyed evidence, the pattern.
Holloway listened without interrupting, his face growing more serious with each detail.
“I remember Shaw,” Holloway said when Carson finished. “Good cop, as far as I knew. Thirty-five years on the force. Took retirement on good terms. Never heard anything questionable about him.”
“But you weren’t looking for questionable things.”
“No. I wasn’t.” Holloway pulled out a notepad. “You said three cases so far. Give me the case numbers. I’ll pull the full files from archives, see if there’s anything else we missed.”
“You think I’m onto something?”
“I think you found something worth investigating. Whether it’s administrative errors or something more serious, we need to know.
” Holloway’s expression hardened. “If evidence was deliberately destroyed, if cases were sabotaged, victims deserve to know why. And if Shaw was involved...” He trailed off.
“We handle this carefully. Quietly. No accusations until we have proof.”
“Understood.”
“And, Carson? Keep this close to the vest. Don’t discuss it with anyone except me and maybe Finn if you need his tech expertise. If Shaw did something dirty, we don’t want to tip off anyone who might have been working with him.”
Carson left the office feeling validated but also uneasy. If Shaw had been corrupt, how deep did it go? How many cases had been compromised? How many victims had been failed?
And—the thought that made his stomach turn—had Shaw’s corruption let Eugene operate unchecked for longer than he should have?
***
That evening, Carson came home to find Nora on the phone, pacing the living room.
“Yes, I understand the timeline,” she was saying. “Thirty days for the LLC paperwork, then I can start taking clients... Okay, thank you so much.”
She ended the call and turned to Carson with a huge smile. “I’m officially registering my business. Nora Bell Consulting. It’s real.”
“That’s amazing.” He pulled her into a hug. “I’m proud of you.”
“I’m terrified,” she admitted with a nervous laugh.
“That means you’re doing it right.” He kissed the top of her head. “What’s the timeline?”
“LLC registration takes about a month. While that processes, I’m building my website, reaching out to potential clients, getting everything set up. I could have my first client by next month.” Her voice wavered between excited and scared. “This is really happening.”
“It is. And you’re going to be amazing at it.”
They celebrated with takeout and wine, Nora talking a mile a minute about business plans and marketing strategies and tax structures. Carson listened, watching her come alive with excitement about something that was completely hers.
“Thank you,” Nora said later as they cleaned up.
“For what?”
“For supporting this. For not trying to talk me into staying at the firm where it’s safe and secure. For believing I can do this.”
“Of course I believe in you. You’re brilliant, Nora. Anyone who hires you is lucky to have you.”
She kissed him, slow and thorough, and when she popped open the button his jeans and dropped to her knees in front of him, Carson let her. Let her love him with her mouth until the stress of the day was forgotten—if only for a moment.
Later, curled up on the couch, Nora said, “I want to meet them. Your friends. Your colleagues. The people who are important to you.”
“You’ve met Finn.”
“Briefly, while I was terrified and in crisis. That doesn’t count.” She shifted to look at him. “We’ve been living together for almost three weeks. We’re building a life together. I should know the people in your life.”
Carson realized she was right. He’d been keeping his work life and personal life separate—an old habit from years of not having much personal life to separate.
“Okay,” he said. “Finn’s been bugging me to go to The Brass Tap on Friday. Bunch of detectives hang out there after shifts. We could go. I’ll introduce you properly.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He kissed the tip of her nose affectionately. “Fair warning though, cops are terrible. They’ll interrogate you, make inappropriate jokes, and probably tell you embarrassing stories about me.”
“I’m counting on the embarrassing stories.”
Carson shook his head, though he was smiling. “Of course you are.”
***
Friday night, they walked into The Brass Tap together. It was a cop bar—dark wood, neon beer signs, the kind of place where off-duty officers could relax without civilians asking questions.
Finn spotted them immediately. “Black! And you brought Nora! Come on, everyone’s in the back.”
He led them to a large table where half a dozen detectives were already several beers deep. They all looked up as Carson and Nora approached.
“Guys, this is Nora,” Carson said, his hand on the small of her back. “Nora, this is...everyone.”
Finn made introductions. “You’ve met me, obviously.
That’s Anthony Holloway—yes, related to the Captain, he’s his nephew.
That’s Jade Matthews, our CSI. Dax Mercer, bomb specialist but don’t hold that against him.
Silas Kane, he’s our profiler which means he’s analyzing all of us constantly.
And Knox Dalton, Carson’s partner before Carson went full lone wolf. ”
“I’m not a lone wolf,” Carson protested.
“You absolutely are,” Knox said. He was in his early forties, graying at the temples, with laugh lines around his eyes. “Nice to finally meet you, Nora. We’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All good things, I hope.”
“Mostly good. Some terrifying. The part where you were almost murdered multiple times was concerning.”
“Knox,” Carson said with warning in his voice.