10. Kyle
CHAPTER 10
KYLE
A bout the only thing keeping my mood afloat the next morning was watching Everett scooping food debris out of my fishtank.
I hadn’t slept for shit. I still needed to go back and finish cleaning up the scene I’d abandoned last night. And… my brother was on his way over. None of those things put me in a great mood on their own. Altogether? Fuck me.
Fortunately, though…
“Dude, I’m trying to help you!” Everett scoffed as he jiggled the net’s long handle, trying to get Steve to let go. “What the—why? Why?”
Despite my sour mood, I laughed as I watched the interplay from my couch. “He doesn’t make it easy, does he?”
“No, he doesn’t!” He tugged on the net again. This time, Steve acquiesced and let it go, then disappeared into the plants along that end of the tank. “God, finally.”
“He’s probably just waiting for you to let your guard down. Watch your fingers.”
Everett grunted and continued to carefully scoop out the bits of shrimp and vegetables the fish hadn’t eaten. “Why does he do that, anyway?” He glanced at me as he emptied the net into a plastic bag. “Is that, like, a territorial thing? Because the others don’t do it.” He paused. “Do they?”
“No, they don’t. And no, it’s not a territorial thing. It’s not even a piranha thing.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s a Steve thing.”
He barked a laugh as he dipped the net back into the water. “You should put that on a T-shirt.”
“What? ‘It’s a Steve thing’?”
“Yes! I’m telling you—he needs an Instagram with merch and everything. It would be—” There was a sudden splash, followed by a yelp of, “Ow!” Everett jerked his hand back and shook it, sending water everywhere. “Fuck!”
I was immediately on my feet. “What? Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He shook out his hand again. “Didn’t think he’d actually jump out of the water to bite me.”
“Do not underestimate Steve.”
Everett grinned even as he held his bitten hand. “Another T-shirt. Right there.”
I snorted. “Just—let me see your hand.”
He offered it, and I cradled it in mine. It wasn’t a bad bite; to the untrained eye, it just looked like Everett had knocked his knuckle against something.
“Eh, you’re probably good. You’ll want to clean it out and throw some Neosporin on it, though.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Are their bites that nasty? They’re not like Komodo dragons are they? Did you know they get so much bacteria in their mouths, they’re basically venomous?”
I blinked. “I… Yes, I’ve heard that, but no, piranhas aren’t—it’s the water.” I pointed at the tank. “Remember how I said they like it kind of dirty?”
“Ooh. Right. Yeah.” He glanced around. “Where’s your bathroom?”
“End of the hall. There’s Neosporin in the top left drawer.”
His smile shouldn’t have made my balance go wonky. Neither should the fact that I was?—
Fuck. I was still holding his hand.
I released it as quickly and casually as I could, cleared my throat, and added, “There’s, uh, Band-Aids too, if you need one.”
He glanced at his finger and shrugged. “Probably couldn’t hurt. Thanks.”
Then he disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone with my asshole piranha and his six more docile tank mates. I narrowed my eyes at Steve, who was peering at me through some plants with a look that said, And I’ll do it again.
He would, too.
“You’re a dick,” I told him. He didn’t seem to care.
That was when I realized the net was floating on top of the tank. Good thing I’d bought one that didn’t sink—lesson learned the hard way. Even using salad tongs or whatever to pick something up off the tank meant sticking my arm partway into the water, and Steve would inevitably take full advantage.
I plucked the net out of the water and continued scooping out the remaining pieces of food. Steve stayed back among the fronds, eyeing me in that menacing way he always did, but he didn’t try to attack. He’d probably just been trolling Everett. It would be on-brand.
And it gave me a chance to touch Everett’s hand while ? —
Oh my God. No. I was not going to get all fluttery about holding on to the guy’s hand while I inspected it for piranha carnage.
Then again…
I mean, I hadn’t ever thought of Steve a wingman, but maybe he was doing me a solid this time? He kind of owed me, after all.
Right then, Everett came back into the room sporting a Band-Aid around his finger. “I feel like that’s a badge of honor or something.” He puffed out his chest. “I survived a piranha attack!”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Well, that must make me immortal or something, because I’ve survived a lot of them.”
“All Steve?” He tipped his head toward the tank. “Or do the others bite sometimes, too?”
“Mostly Steve. About ninety-eight percent Steve.” I gestured at the other end of the tank. “Jack got me once when he was little. Latched on hard because I guess he thought I was a threat or something, but at that size, they can’t do too much damage.”
“When he was—wait, do you have baby pictures of your piranhas?”
From anyone else, that question would’ve been full of incredulity. The way Everett’s eyes lit up, he was two seconds away from asking—no, demanding—to see every baby piranha photo I possessed. And for the first time, I wanted to whip out all those photos—and videos, because Lord, there were videos—and show them to someone, secure in the knowledge he’d be fascinated and not weirded out.
“I, um…” I was definitely blushing as I closed the top of the tank. “I… do, yeah.”
Just as I suspected, his eyes got huge. “Oh my God! Seriously? Can I see them?”
Chuckling, I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll dig them up. They’re probably in the same album as the kitten pics of Jeff and Patches.”
That got an even better reaction. “Holy shit! Your phone is just full of cute baby animals, isn’t it?”
Laughing, I hung the fishnet on the hook beside the tank. “Guilty?” Some of the guys I’d dated had thought that was stupid, or endearing in a “pat me on the head and act like I’m being childish” kind of way. Everett seemed genuinely thrilled at the prospect of being bombarded with the gigabytes of kitten and baby piranha media I had stuffed on to my phone.
Not that I was dating him. Because I wasn’t. This was strictly… I mean, we weren’t…
We were looking into a homicide that the cops were trying to write off as a suicide, that was what we were doing. Not exactly “okay, kids, let me tell you how I met your other dad” romcom material.
I cleared my throat. “I should, um… I should let the cats out.”
“Oh God!” He stiffened. “How long have they been in there?”
“Relax, relax.” I headed down the hall, adding over my shoulder, “They have toys, food, water, litter—they’re good.”
Then I opened the spare bedroom door, and both cats came thundering out like they’d just escaped Alcatraz. Jeff was instantly in Everett’s arms, purring and making biscuits, while Patches bumped against his legs and meowed like she hadn’t seen human or feline in years.
I rolled my eyes. “Drama queens.”
Everett started to say something, but a knock at my front door made us both stiffen.
I checked my camera on my phone, and yep, it was my brother. I swore under my breath as I brushed past Everett and the cats. “Colin’s here.”
Just before I reached the door, I scooped up Patches, who’d followed me. The last thing I needed was her dumb ass bolting outside again. With the cat safely tucked under my arm, I opened the door.
It wasn’t my cat that bolted out the door—it was my good mood. Out the door, down the street, and into the ether.
Colin stood on the porch in his patrol uniform, his squad car on the curb. I wondered for a moment why he hadn’t parked in the driveway, but then I answered my own question: Everett’s car was in the driveway. There was room for two, but only if they both pulled in relatively straight. Everett… had not.
“I’m on lunch,” my brother said, “so let’s make this quick?”
“Right. Yeah.” I stood aside and gestured for him to come in. “I don’t think this will take long.”
“If it’s about Dad’s retirement gift, you could just?—”
“No. It’s not.” I shut the door behind us. “It’s about a case.”
Colin eyed me. Then he noticed Everett standing in the hallway, still holding Jeff. “Uh. Hi?”
“Hi.” Everett shifted Jeff onto his hip, then extended his hand. “Everett Mulligan.”
As they shook hands, Colin’s brow furrowed. “Mulligan? Like… the funeral home?”
“Yep.” Everett nodded toward me. “That’s how we met!”
Well, it wasn’t the smoothest segue, but it got the job done.
“Let’s sit down.” I didn’t bother offering coffee; Colin was probably on his nineteenth cup by now, and he’d have brought it in from the car with him if he needed it.
On the way into the living room, Colin gave the aquarium a wide berth. Unlike Everett, he was the opposite of fascinated by my fish, and it had only taken Steve charging the glass one time to make Colin keep a few feet between him and the tank.
As we settled onto the couch, I said, “So, to cut right to the chase, we”—I gestured at Everett—“have been looking into a death.”
My brother’s eyes went wide. “You two?” He looked back and forth between us. “In what capacity?”
“In the capacity of two guys who think the cops are covering up a murder,” Everett said bluntly.
I closed my eyes and sighed. So much for keeping this non-confrontational. When I looked at Colin again, he was staring at Everett like he hadn’t heard him right. He wasn’t angry yet, but we needed to tread lightly if we wanted his help.
I put a hand on Everett’s forearm, hoping he took it as a suggestion to chill. Then I told Colin, “Did you hear about Rick Leighton?”
From the twitch of his jaw, he had. “Yeah. Offed himself last—wait, what do you mean you two are looking into his death? It was a suicide.” There was a sudden edge to his voice. A note of warning. “It was a suicide , Kyle.”
“I don’t think it was.” I kept my hand firmly on Everett’s arm, giving it a subtle squeeze and silently pleading with him to follow my lead. “We both went to the scene. He was there to remove the body. I was there to do my thing. And we both saw things that don’t add up to a suicide.”
Colin’s eyes flicked back and forth between us. With obvious unease, he asked, “Like what?”
I explained everything we’d found, and we both showed him the photos we’d taken at the scene. I also told him about the conclusions we’d come to with the shoes, and that we’d talked to people connected to Rick. “I don’t want to name names, okay? There are people in his circle who are concerned, too, and they don’t want their names on this.”
Colin sat back in his chair and wiped a hand over his face. For a long moment, he was silent, his expression contemplative and his gaze fixed on the fish tank.
When he faced us again, some heavy fatigue—resignation, maybe?—had entered the chat. “Kyle. Listen.” He shook his head slowly. “This is not a thread you want to be pulling.”
Beside me, Everett went bolt upright. Before I could stop him, he asked, “Why the fuck not? This guy was murdered, and the cops are pretending he was?—”
“Because it’s not a thread you should be pulling,” Colin snapped, switching on his cop voice. “You don’t know what you’re up against.”
Everett’s lips parted. He had that dumbfounded look he sometimes got, but there was an edge of righteous fury to it that was—despite how much I didn’t want this conversation to escalate into a shouting match—alarmingly attractive.
“What does that even mean?” he demanded. “I know cops like to cover for cops, but this guy was murdered and?—”
“It’s not that simple,” Colin growled. “Look, I’ll be the first to tell you there are some unscrupulous cops on the force, and that they’ve done shit and covered up other shit I don’t agree with. I’m on your side here, okay?” He shifted a little. “But this is the kind of shit that could get the two of you killed, too.”
“So you do think there’s something to it?” I asked. “That people are trying to cover up?—”
“I think Chief Daniels’s daughter’s boyfriend is dead, and I’m not sure if it was or wasn’t murder. But it if is, then I really don’t want my little brother at odds with someone who orchestrated, committed, and covered up that murder.” He stared at me as if to ask, “Is that clear enough? Or do I need to break out the crayons?”
Everett tensed, his jaw working. “So, what? We should just leave it be? Because your buddies might kill us to shut us up and you’re okay with that?”
Oh God. This was a mistake. I should’ve talked to Colin alone.
My brother took in a deep breath through his nose and narrowed his eyes at Everett. “I’m not okay with any of it. What I’m saying is that the best-case scenario is that Rick Leighton died by suicide. If you two are right and he was actually murdered and someone is covering that up—especially if they’ve got multiple people covering it up, which they would have to—then I can guarantee they’re not above killing more people to keep that secret. Including the two of you.”
Everett and I exchanged looks, and I could feel the aggravation radiating off him.
I gave his arm another squeeze before turning back to Colin. “We can’t just leave this alone. The guy’s got a kid, for God’s sake.”
Colin pressed his lips together. “I get it. I really do. But you know why I’m saying you should leave it alone.”
I could feel Everett’s inquisitive gaze fixed on me, but I stayed focused on Colin. “Yeah. I do. And after what happened to you, you should be even more pissed about this .”
“I am,” he growled. “I can be fucking pissed—and I am—but still not want my own brother getting tangled up in it and getting himself killed.”
“Then you look into it!” Everett snapped. “That’s why we got in touch with you!” He threw up his hand—the one that wasn’t being weighed down by my hand on his forearm—and scoffed. “You have a badge and all the training and?—”
“And the real-world experience to know exactly how quickly something like this can backfire,” Colin gritted out. Then he closed his eyes and pushed out a breath. “Listen. I’ll see if I can get my hands on the case files and the M.E.’s preliminary report, okay? It’ll probably take a day or two. Then we can try to get the state bureau involved. See if they’ll look into it.”
Everett squirmed beside me. “But what if what’s in the files does point to a suicide?” He gestured with his phone. “They didn’t photograph the same things we did.”
“Not of the scene, no. But the M.E. will have photos of the body, including that shoe impression, plus the body still as it was found at the scene. If investigators are overlooking obviously irregular details, it’ll be clear, and it’ll be enough to get a state detective interested.” He paused. “I’ll do what I can, all right?” He pointed sharply at us. “But do not go sniffing around or rattling cages about this until you hear from me again. Got it?”
I nodded. After a moment of reluctance, Everett sighed and did the same.
Colin had to get back out on patrol, so I walked him to the door. On the porch, he faced me and lowered his voice. “Be careful with this shit, Kyle. You’re smart, and you’ve got good instincts.” He tipped his head toward the living room behind me. “Not everyone does.”
I could read between those lines— keep your sidekick on a leash so he doesn’t get himself killed.
“Text me when you have something,” I said.
“Will do.” He lowered his voice a little. “And do not tell Dad about this. You feel me?”
“I won’t tell him.” I knew better—our father would shut this shit down so fast our heads would spin. He wasn’t a dirty cop per se, but he strongly adhered to the Blue Code of Silence.
Apparently satisfied I’d keep my trap shut with our dad and keep Everett on a leash, Colin left, and I went back inside.
Unsurprisingly, Everett was fuming. He’d gotten up off the couch and was pacing furiously by the aquarium. “What the fuck?” He flailed a hand. “Are all the cops in this town either dirty or cowards?”
“He’s…” I sighed, leaning my butt on the couch’s armrest. “He just knows how shit works in this city.”
Everett whipped around to face me, confusion and maybe even some hurt slipping into his expression. “You don’t buy into it, do you? You’re not—We’re not letting this go.” He swallowed. “Are we?”
“No,” I whispered. “But Colin has firsthand experience with how things work in this town, and not just because he’s a cop himself.”
“What do you mean?”
I chewed my lip and folded my arms loosely across my chest. “During his second year, Colin busted another cop for a DUI. Not her first, either. She tried to get out of it with her badge, but he took her in.” I sighed, letting my shoulders sag. “The entire precinct and our whole family came down on him for it. He almost quit because of it.”
“What? Why? She could’ve killed someone!”
“I know. But Colin’s fourth generation cop. The whole family is rabidly against cops ratting out other cops.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Everett said, rolling his eyes.
“I know. That’s…” I scratched the back of my neck. “That’s why I’m not a cop, to tell you the truth.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmhmm. I was planning on going to the academy that year. Be a cop just like almost everyone in my family. But watching Colin fighting to reestablish himself as a trusted cop among both his colleagues and our family?” I shook my head. “I wouldn’t be able to do that. I just couldn’t.”
“Then why did we even pull him into this?” Everett pushed out an exasperated breath. “If you knew he was going to try to shut us down, why bring him into the loop?”
I hadn’t expected his anger to be directed at me, and I tensed. “Because he has access to things we don’t?” I gestured at the door. “He can get his hands on reports and files we can’t, and even though he wants us to back off, he’s still getting those things for us!”
“And then what? He’ll tell us to be quiet anyway? To stay out of it?” He crossed his arms. “I don’t care about cops and their ‘snitches get stitches’ bullshit. This guy was murdered, and I want to find out who did it!”
“So do I! But snitches do get stitches, so?—”
“So we should give up? Go hide?”
“No! We just need to be careful. That’s all.” I paused, then schooled my tone because this was escalating. I didn’t want to fight with Everett. “We won’t do Rick Leighton any good if we get ourselves killed.”
“But we won’t do him any good if we let the cops shut us down, either,” he said flatly.
“We won’t let them shut us down. You heard Colin—once we have the case files, we can go to the state bureau.”
“And then what?” He inclined his head. “Let them shut us down because they also don’t like ratting out cops?”
“Then we’ll go to internal affairs,” I said. “We’re not letting this go, Everett. I promise. I just want to be sure we don’t get ourselves killed in the process.”
I want to be sure you don’t get hurt.
He glared at me, jaw still tight. Then he sighed and let his arms fall to his sides. “Okay. Well. Let me know what your brother says.” He picked up his phone off the coffee table. “I need to get back to the funeral home.”
Panic surged in me because I didn’t think he was just trying to get back to work. “Everett, wait.”
He stopped and eyed me, all his Golden Retriever wide-eyed sweetness gone in favor of hurt and anger.
I showed my palms. “I’m not giving up on this. I promise. We’re going to see this through.”
He pressed his lips together. Then, “Text me when you hear from Colin.”
And then he left. I stood there stupidly in the living room, my heart thumping and almost drowning out the rumble of his engine and the squeak of his tires.
“Fuck.” I let my gaze drift to the fish tank. Steve was watching me.
Had it really been just like twenty minutes ago that he’d nipped Everett and we’d been getting gooey-eyed over the prospect of baby piranha and kitten photos?
Why did I feel like this amateur investigation wasn’t the only thing I’d fucked up today?