Chapter 12 Shawn
“Morning, Partner,” Anderson greets as he steps into my house with a tray boasting three coffees. It’s the only thing that makes me slightly less frustrated at his random drop-in. Anderson and I aren’t close enough for house visits. Or, at least, I didn’t think we were.
“Thanks.” I take the one he offers me, then notice that he scans the house, likely looking for my house guest. “She’s out for a run.”
“Is that such a good idea?” he asks. “We haven’t exactly caught the guy who assaulted her.”
Which is exactly what I’d told her when we argued about it this morning. After Jemma left yesterday, she’d barely spoken. At least until this morning, when she insisted we take advantage of the covers Jemma created for us and head over to the aviation club.
I disagreed. At least until we have more to go on.
We’d argued, and she’d practically stormed out of here twenty minutes ago.
“She needed to get out,” I reply, my mood sour. “And short of handcuffing her to something, I wasn’t going to be able to stop her.”
I’d tried to go with her.
Insisted on it, actually. But Beckett told me she needed time alone to breathe. And when I saw the way her bottom lip quivered and the tears shimmering in her eyes, I stepped out of her way and said a prayer for her safety.
I know that feeling all too well. That moment where everything feels like it’s crushing down on top of you, and you desperately need the illusion of outrunning it. Even though you know it’ll all still be there when you’re done.
“Did you come by to tell me you have something?” I ask him.
“Not concrete. The surveillance gave us nothing, and we’ve checked all the hotel employees as well as looking into their bank records and financials. Nothing popped.”
“So you have no idea who attacked her?” My frustration grows.
“Not a clue. But we’re still working on it. How are you doing?”
“Just enjoying my vacation,” I reply. “Thanks for coming by and for the coffee.”
Anderson arches a brow and continues staring at me. “We both know you’re not sitting here binge-watching TV. I know you tried to look into that case and the captain told you no. So, tell me, what have you found?”
“Nothing,” I reply. It’s not a lie—we don’t have anything concrete. “The accident was deemed just that—an accident. There was no proof that anything was out of the ordinary.”
His expression shows me how little he believes me. “Then why is she still here?”
“Because she was attacked and needs her own break.”
“I can’t help you unless you let me in,” he insists. “I’m your partner.”
“And I need you to find out who attacked her.”
“I wouldn’t mind the risk we both know you’re taking.” He’s frustrated at being kept out of the loop, but he’s right where I need him.
“Beckett’s—”
“Important,” he finishes.
I open my mouth to argue. To insist that I’m only doing this because she’s innocent and needs answers, but that’s not the truth. Not the entire truth, anyway.
Beckett is important. She has been since she walked into my precinct two years ago, briefcase in hand, with words that dripped sweet venom.
“Look, I get it. Just don’t keep me in the dark on things I can help with, okay? I’ll keep digging into the attack, but right now, it’s not looking like we’ll have answers to this one. You need to be careful. And maybe think about sending her home.”
“I’m not sending her home without answers.”
“To a decade-old plane crash?” he presses. “I won’t argue that things are fishy. Especially since—” The front door opens, and Beckett strolls in. Her cheeks are red, her breathing ragged. She shifts her attention from me to Anderson.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she says.
“It’s fine, I was on my way out. It’s good to see you, Ms. Wallace.” Anderson turns to me. “Think about it, Shawn.” With one final tight smile at Beckett, he leaves the house and closes the door behind him.
My already frustrated mood darkens further.
What he can’t know is that we have a solid lead now.
One that might lead us to actual answers.
Unfortunately, to get those answers, we have to walk right into a den of wolves who wouldn’t hesitate to devour both of us if they were to discover I carry a badge.
Then there’s the risk to Beckett. If Creed is the one who sent someone after her in that hotel room, then going there is literally handing her over to them.
I’ll be walking her in, and neither of us will ever walk out again.
“Everything okay?” Beckett asks.
“They don’t have any idea who attacked you.”
“I’m not surprised. Especially if it’s linked to Lucian Creed.”
“Which is why you shouldn’t go into that airfield,” I growl. It’s a repeat from our earlier argument. One where she reminded me of the stubborn streak I found so frustrating when we first met. “If they are the ones who sent people after you, they’re going to recognize you.”
“I’m going,” she says. “I understand the risk.”
“Do you?” I snap, taking a step closer to her. “Because if we walk in there and he ID’s you, then we’re both dead.”
She tilts her face up at me, jaw set, dark eyes narrowed. “Then you don’t have to go. You stay behind. I want answers.”
“That will get you killed!” I yell, unable to keep my temper at bay any longer. How can she not see how foolish this is?
Beckett flinches and takes a deep breath. “I’m not asking you to risk your life for me, Shawn. But this is the only lead we have. So, we either follow it, or I give up.” Her voice breaks at the end, and all of the frustration in me vanishes.
If it were me in her shoes, I wouldn’t give up, either.
And the truth is: It’s not my life I’m worried about—it’s hers.
“It’s not the only lead we have. We have the flight logs. At the bare minimum, we know they’re missing information. At most, they’re completely false.”
“That picture puts him on that airfield,” she argues. “You and I both know that’s the better lead. Especially if it all ties together.”
I hate that she’s right.
“We have to be smart here. If they recognize you, we may not be walking out of there.”
“Then what do you suggest? You’ve been undercover before.”
“Many times.” I let out a sigh as I run my hand through my hair. “There was never a risk of me being recognized, though. And I had an entire police force ready to back me up should things go sideways. We don’t have that, and it’s not exactly like you’re forgettable.”
She arches a dark brow. “Oh?”
Heat climbs up my neck. “Bold red lipstick? Not many women wear that into a courtroom. Or at all, for that matter.”
Her gaze remains on mine, and I’m unable to tear my attention away as the seconds continue to tick by.
She’s the one to break the connection. “Look. We don’t even know for certain that he’s the one who sent someone after me—” She holds up a hand when I open my mouth to speak. “All signs point to yes, but we don’t know for sure. And maybe if we go, we can find something that explains everything.”
She’s desperate to prove her husband wasn’t a criminal. And at this point, I think it’s more about finding out why he lied to her than anything else. But this truth isn’t worth her life. Not when she could still live a happy life if she only leaves it alone.
Or we could both get killed.
In a normal investigation, I’d at least take backup with me. But since I don’t have enough to take it to my captain and insist the case get reopened, we’re on our own.
She won’t leave this alone.
So, with or without me, she’s walking into that club. And I’d rather die alongside her than live knowing she died because I let her go in there alone.
“Fine. But we do this my way or not at all.”