Chapter 26
Six months later, Carson stood in the station parking lot at five-thirty PM and didn’t feel guilty about leaving.
That alone was progress.
“Heading out?” Finn called from across the lot.
“Yeah. Nora’s making dinner. Some new recipe she’s been wanting to try.”
“Look at you. Leaving on time. Going home to your girlfriend. Being a normal person.” Finn grinned. “Who are you and what have you done with Carson Black?”
“Funny,” Carson deadpanned, but then he smiled. Because Finn was right. Six months ago, he would have stayed until eight or nine, would have found reasons to work through dinner, would have put the job before everything else.
Now? Now he had a life. A real one. With dinner dates and weekend plans and a woman waiting at home who actually wanted to see him.
“Say hi to Nora for me,” Finn said. “Tell her the whole department is grateful she domesticated you.”
“I’m not domesticated. I’m...evolved.”
“Same thing.”
Carson drove home—their home now, truly theirs—and found Nora in the kitchen surrounded by ingredients, her laptop open to a recipe, concentration written across her face.
“Hey,” he said, dropping his keys in the bowl by the door. “Need help?”
“Please. I’m attempting coq au vin and I think I’m in over my head.” She gestured to the chicken and vegetables. “Can you chop while I deal with the sauce?”
They worked together in the kitchen, moving around each other with the ease of six months’ practice. Carson chopped vegetables while Nora stirred, both talking about their days.
“I signed two new clients today,” Nora said. “Both referrals from existing clients. My business is actually growing.”
“That’s amazing. How many does that make total?”
“Seven active contracts. Plus three more in the pipeline. I might need to hire an assistant soon.”
“You should. You’ve been working twelve-hour days lately. Don’t want you burning out.”
She laughed. “Listen to you. Mr. Boundaries. Mr. Work-Life Balance. Telling me not to overwork.”
“I’ve learned from the best.” He finished the vegetables and moved to wrap his arms around her from behind. “Besides, I like having you home at reasonable hours. Means we actually get to spend time together.”
“You mean you don’t want to live with a workaholic?”
“Hypocritical, I know. But no. I want to live with the woman I love. Who happens to have a successful business. But who also knows when to close the laptop and be present.”
Nora turned in his arms. “You’re really doing it, you know. Everything you promised. The boundaries. The therapy. The showing up.”
“I’m trying.”
“You’re succeeding.” She kissed him. “I’m proud of you.”
They finished making dinner—the coq au vin turned out surprisingly good—and ate at the table, talking about everything and nothing. Nora’s plans to expand her business. Carson’s consideration of the promotion to lead detective. The vacation they wanted to take next month.
Normal couple things. The kind of conversation Carson had never imagined having six months ago when Nora had left and he’d thought he’d lost her forever.
After dinner, they cleaned up together, then settled on the couch with wine. Nora had brought work home—a proposal she wanted to finish—and Carson had some case files to review.
“Is this okay?” Nora asked, opening her laptop. “Me working while you’re working?”
“It’s fine. We’re together. That’s what matters.” He pulled out the file he’d brought home. “Just being in the same room counts.”
They worked in comfortable silence for a while, both focused on their respective tasks. It felt good. Balanced. Like they’d finally figured out how to maintain their individual ambitions while still prioritizing their relationship.
Carson was reviewing Eugene’s case file—something he did periodically, making sure all the documentation was complete for the trial that was finally scheduled for next month. Eugene had pled not guilty, and the DA wanted everything airtight.
But something caught Carson’s eye.
A notation in the evidence log. Three years before Eugene had escalated to attacking Nora, there’d been a report filed. A woman in Eugene’s previous apartment building had reported feeling watched. Evidence had been collected, including potential DNA samples from items left at her door.
But the evidence was marked as destroyed. Water damage. Authorization by...Captain Ray Shaw.
Carson frowned. Shaw again. He’d been so focused on the twelve cases he’d already documented, he hadn’t thought to check if there were even more recent ones.
It was an oversight he could kick himself for.
He pulled up the evidence database and searched for Eugene Whitmore. Found four other reports spanning five years before Eugene’s arrest. All from different women. All reporting similar behavior—feeling watched, things moved, gifts appearing.
And in every case, evidence had either gone missing or been destroyed during Shaw’s tenure.
“Something wrong?” Nora asked, looking up from her laptop.
“Maybe. I’m not sure.” Carson turned his laptop toward her. “Look at this. Eugene had multiple reports filed against him over five years. But evidence kept disappearing. All during Shaw’s time as captain.”
Nora studied the screen. “So Shaw was protecting Eugene specifically? Not just running a general operation?”
“I don’t know.” He hesitated. “Could be both. Eugene paid for protection, like Dan said. But this is more evidence than we originally thought.” Carson made notes. “I need to tell Captain Holloway. This could affect Eugene’s trial. Could show a pattern of stalking that goes back years.”
“Can you prove Shaw destroyed the evidence deliberately? Or could it be legitimate?”
“That’s what I need to figure out.” Carson closed his laptop. “But not tonight. Tonight is for us. I’ll look into this tomorrow.”
He meant it. Six months ago, he would have spent the entire evening diving into this. Would have ignored Nora, ignored dinner, ignored everything except the case.
Now? Now he set it aside. Because Nora was right here. And she mattered more than a case that could wait until morning.
“Thank you,” Nora said.
“For what?”
“For keeping your word. For closing the laptop. For choosing us over the case.” She moved closer on the couch. “Six months ago, you would have disappeared into that file for hours.”
“Six months ago, I didn’t understand what I had. What I stood to lose.” He pulled her into his lap. “Now I do. And nothing—no case, no investigation, no obsession—is worth losing you.”
“You’re not going to lose me,” she promised, running her fingers through his hair.
“Good. Because I’m not done with you yet. In fact—” He paused, his heart suddenly racing. “I’m planning to keep you around for a very long time.”
“How long are we talking?”
“Forever, if you’ll have me.”
Nora’s breath caught. “Carson—”
“I’m not proposing. Not yet. I know we agreed to take things slow. But I want you to know, that’s where this is heading. That’s what I want. A future with you. Marriage. Everything.”
“I want that too.” She cupped his face. “And you’re right—not yet. But soon. When we’re both ready.”
“Soon,” he agreed.
They kissed, and the case file was forgotten for the rest of the evening. Because this—being together, being present, choosing each other—was what mattered. What would always matter.
***
The next morning, Carson brought the Eugene file to Captain Holloway’s office.
“What am I looking at?” Holloway asked, scanning the evidence log.
“More cases where Shaw destroyed evidence related to Eugene Whitmore. At least four other women reported him over five years. All reports went nowhere. All evidence disappeared.”
Captain’s expression darkened. “So Shaw was protecting Eugene specifically. Not just running a general operation.”
“Looks that way. Which means Eugene’s stalking pattern goes back at least eight years. Maybe longer. And Shaw enabled all of it.”
“This changes things. Eugene’s trial is next month.
The DA needs to know about this. Needs to know Eugene had a longer history than we originally documented.
” He picked up his phone. “I’m calling the DA now.
” Carson turned to leave, but Captain’s voice stopped him.
“Carson? Good catch, son. If we’d missed this, Eugene might have gotten a lighter sentence.
You might have saved us from a prosecutorial mistake. ”
“Just doing my job.”
“You’re doing it well. And within normal working hours, I notice. Left at five-thirty yesterday?”
“I did. Nora made dinner.”
“Good. That’s good.” Captain smiled. “You’ve come a long way in six months.”
“I’ve had help. Therapy. Nora. You.”
“You’ve done the work yourself. That’s what matters.” He stood. “Keep it up. And keep an eye out for more cases Shaw might have tampered with. If Eugene’s pattern goes back eight years, there might be even more victims we don’t know about.”
“I will.”
Carson left the office feeling satisfied. He’d found important information. Information that would help ensure Eugene got the sentence he deserved. Information that would help bring justice to multiple victims.
But he’d done it during work hours. While maintaining boundaries. While still having a life outside the job.
That was growth. Real, sustainable growth.
***
That evening, Nora was working late—a deadline for one of her clients—so Carson made dinner for both of them.
He’d gotten better at cooking over the past six months. Had actually started to enjoy it. The routine of it. The creativity. The satisfaction of creating something with his hands that didn’t involve crime or violence.
Dr. Carpenter would be proud.
Nora came home at seven, looking exhausted but happy. “You cooked? You’re my hero.”
“Spaghetti and meatballs. Nothing fancy. But it’s edible.”
“It smells amazing.” She kicked off her shoes and sank into a chair. “Today was brutal. My new client needed their entire financial structure reorganized. I’ve been in spreadsheets for eight hours.”
“But you love it.”