18. Kyle
CHAPTER 18
KYLE
J ust because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.
I reminded myself of that over and over again as I turned an otherwise untouched coffee cup between my fingers at Waffles?
Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.
Except… I wasn’t just paranoid. Somebody was out to get me, or at least shut me up, and I still had the footprint on my back and the bruise on my side to show for it.
And I could get them off my tail and out of my life if I just did as I was told and let this whole thing go. That was what Colin wanted me to do. It was what Detective Reardon wanted me to do. I was pretty sure it was what my father was going to tell me to do when he got here.
Fuck. Fuck! I was scared shitless, and there was a part of me that wanted to let this whole thing go, keep my head down, and focus on my job and my fish and my boyfriend. I wanted to be a coward because that was safer.
But a much louder part of me wanted to dig my claws in even harder and see this thing through. No one would be trying this hard to chase people away from investigating a suicide that was really a suicide. Someone had murdered Rick Leighton along with two of his associates, and I would be damned if I backed away from figuring out who.
Even if the whole thing had me terrified and paranoid.
Squealing tires made me jump out of my skin, and I whipped my head toward the window. I instantly felt like a dumbass—of course it was Everett. His car (not the hearse this time) fish-tailed despite the pavement being bone-dry, and then he “parked” outside the restaurant.
I managed a quiet chuckle as I picked up my coffee. The man was not a great driver, that was for sure, but even that was charming in its own way. Maybe because it was just so… Everett. And I really liked everything about Everett.
Especially the part where he could come crashing in—almost literally—and break through my internal panic. I was still freaked out, still worried sick about what we should do and what could happen, but Everett was here. That made things better.
Except what if being with me puts him in more danger?
What if him being here puts him in the crosshairs?
Fuck.
By the time Everett came striding into Waffles?, my mood had darkened again, and the sight of him made my stomach twist.
I don’t want you to get hurt.
He looked around the restaurant, then found me at the booth kitty-corner to the one occupied by the Goth kids. Instead of sitting across from me, though, he sat beside me, and he wrapped an arm around me.
“Hey. You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m, uh… I’m kind of glad I didn’t get called in for this one, to be honest.”
Everett’s lips thinned and his brow creased. He hadn’t been happy when I’d called and told him I’d been explicitly informed I wouldn’t be cleaning Leon’s death scene. I usually didn’t get a call unless I was being contracted for a specific job—why would they bother telling me they weren’t hiring me for something?—but this smacked of warning me that I was losing the city’s business.
“I don’t know if they’re keeping me out because he’s associated with Leighton,” I admitted, cradling my coffee between my hands, “pr if they’re just letting me know I’m persona non grata for the time being.”
Everett shook his head. “I don’t know. They’re fucking with our licensing and stuff, too. My whole family is in a panic because there’s documentation missing that we need to operate.”
I winced. He’d told me as much over the phone, and I still felt guilty that this was hurting him and his family.
“We’re definitely on to something,” Everett went on. “And especially now that they’re messing with my family, I’m about as likely to let this go as Steve is to let go of a piece of shrimp that Bill wants.”
I laughed, which felt really good. Steve didn’t like sharing, but he was especially protective of shrimp, and doubly so if it was shrimp that Bill wanted. That Everett had noticed made me warmer than my coffee.
“Your dad’s gonna try to talk us out of it, though, isn’t he?”
That warmth vanished, and I sighed. “Yeah. He is.”
“So what do we say?” Everett’s eyes were somehow both pleading and determined. “I don’t want to let this go. But…” He chewed his lip.
I shook my head. “I don’t know.” All the reasons I wanted to stay this course were clear as day in my mind. The problem was that I’d never had much of a spine when it came to facing my dad. He’d been a hardass cop his whole career, and he’d been a hardass father my whole life, I’d been terrified to tell him I didn’t want to be a cop and wanted to start my own business.
To my surprise, he’d taken the news well. He’d said something to the effect of, “It takes a certain kind of man to be a cop, son. You’re better off realizing it’s not for you now than after you become one.”
I’d been so relieved he hadn’t been angry with me, I think it was a full two years later before I realized how backhanded his response had been.
Kyle fidgeted next to me. “We’re gonna stick with it, right?”
“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation. “A man was murdered, and nobody cares but us. We’re not letting it go.”
At that, he relaxed a little, as if he’d honestly thought I was going to bail. I couldn’t blame him for that, given how many times I’d seriously considered it.
“Do you think your dad will look into it? Or is he going to call it a suicide, too?”
I chewed my lip. “I want to say he’ll look into it, because I know he’s not a dirty cop or anything like that. But he does believe in the Blue Code of Silence. And he doesn’t like pushing back against what other cops are doing.”
A lot of unspoken thoughts played out in Everett’s expression. I wondered if he was thinking what I’d come so dangerously close to concluding too many times—a cop who covers for dirty cops is also a dirty cop, therefore my dad was a dirty cop.
I followed the logic. I believed it with literally any cop on earth.
Believing it about my dad was…
That was hard. It was something I didn’t want to believe.
And something told me that after all this was over, I might not have a choice but to believe it.
I was saved from having to say anything about it because the front door of Waffles? opened again. Fidgeting, I muttered, “Here we go,” to Everett as my dad and brother walked in.
Dad was plainclothes as always, though he wore his badge on a chain around his neck. Colin was in uniform. As they approached, some distinctive oinking and snorting noises started up. I was confused for a second, but when Dad glared at the Goth kids, I put the pieces together.
Colin rolled his eyes.
Dad muttered, “Stupid fucking kids.”
“ACAB!” one of the kids called out over the oinking. “ACAB!”
“Fascist fuckers working for the fascist regime,” another declared.
“Fascist pig fuckers!”
“Dude! Don’t insult their wives!”
“They married cops—they deserve to be insulted!”
The table devolved into some of the liveliest conversation I’d ever heard from the otherwise quiet group, and my dad and brother both seemed pissed as they slid into our booth.
Beside me, Everett was trying to stifle a laugh. He was mostly succeeding.
“We just had to meet here, didn’t we?” Dad grumbled.
I shrugged. “I didn’t know they were going to…” I waved a hand at the other booth, which was behind a high enough divider that the Goth kids couldn’t see me.
Dad huffed and snatched up one of the menus. He, Colin, and Everett ordered some food. I ordered more coffee.
“You’re not eating?” Dad asked with an arched eyebrow.
I shook my head. “I ate earlier.” That was a lie. If I tipped my hand and told him how wound up and scared I was, he’d use that as leverage to get me away from this case.
He either accepted my answer or didn’t care enough to dig, because he moved right on. “We need to talk about the Leighton case.”
Colin worked at a crack on the table with his thumbnail, and he stared intently at that. Everett fidgeted beside me.
I held my dad’s gaze despite my pounding heart. “That’s why we’re here.”
“Right. Right.” Dad folded his arms on the edge of the table and looked right at me. “Well, it’s really simple.” He flicked his eyes to Everett, then to me. “You two aren’t cops. You have no business getting involved in a police investigation.”
“Agreed,” Everett said. “But since the police aren’t investigating Leighton’s death, we’re not stepping on any toes, are we?”
Colin’s head snapped up, and he stared at Everett, then me, his eyes asking if my boyfriend was stupid or suicidal. Dad glared across the table at Everett, and he seemed even more affronted by Everett’s audacity than by the Goth kids’ disrespect. Which said a lot, quite frankly—there were few ways to get on my dad’s nerves faster than disrespecting cops.
I nudged Everett’s knee with mine beneath the table and cleared my throat. Holding my dad’s gaze, I asked, “Do you think Rick Leighton killed himself?”
“I don’t know enough about the case.”
“I do,” I said. “And there’s no way it’s a suicide.”
He gave one of those heavy dad sighs and leaned back against the bench. “Kyle. You’re not a cop. You don’t know how these things?—”
“There was a smear of blood in the hallway,” Everett snapped. “And there was a footprint on Leighton’s chest. A footprint . From a shoe that isn’t his size and wasn’t on the premises.” He inclined his head. “And I’ll bet you anything it matches the footprint on your son’s back.”
My breath caught in my throat. I wasn’t used to people pushing back against my dad, and neither was he.
Dad glowered at Everett, then turned to me. “What is he talking about? What footprint on your back?”
Before I could answer, Everett whipped out the Pinkie Pie cell phone, opened the photos and shoved it across the table at Dad and Colin.
They both blinked as if they weren’t sure what to make of… Well, any of this. Including Everett and the Pinkie Pie phone.
Then they leaned in and peered at the screen.
Colin sat up and met my gaze. “That’s from the other day?”
I nodded.
Dad turned to him. “You knew about this?”
“I told you someone threatened Kyle.”
Dad scowled. “There’s a difference between ‘someone threatened Kyle’ and”—he pointed sharply at the phone —“someone threatened Kyle.” He snapped his head toward me. “What the hell happened?”
I took a deep breath and told him about my encounter with Detective Reardon. “That’s why we’re here.” I gestured at all four of us. “I’m scared shitless to be home alone. I don’t know what to do.”
“You get the hell away from this case,” Dad said. “That’s what you do.”
“But then who’s going to investigate it?” I put up a hand to stop his retort. “We’ve been going around in circles with Colin about this, and—look, no one is investigating what happened to Rick Leighton. Now two of his buddies are dead, and Everett and I are both getting threats. From cops.” I thumped the table with my index finger. “ Someone killed those three men. The only reason I can think of why everyone’s so determined to keep us from digging is that we’ll find out it’s someone with connections to the police.”
Everyone at the table stared at me, and I didn’t blame them. Even I was wondering where that had come from. I never pushed back at my dad like that. Maybe I was just done being told to leave this thing alone. Maybe Everett’s presence emboldened me. Whatever it was, I was done being told to step off.
Dad quietly asked, “Do you think a cop killed him? Is that what you’re insinuating?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. But there are cops who seem real motivated to keep anyone from finding out who killed him. So it’s either a cop who killed him, or someone who can get cops to cover up their dirty work.”
The anger in Dad’s face almost had me backing down anyway. What could I say? I was not a brave man where my father was concerned.
“He’s right,” Everett said. “Any cop who actually wants justice would investigate it, and they sure as shit wouldn’t be threatening people who want to look into it. So either a cop killed him, or somebody with cop minions did.”
“Exactly.” I set my jaw and looked my dad right in the eye as I called on every shred of defiance I possessed. “Whoever wants us to shut up is already fucking with both of our careers.” I gestured at Everett. “They’re fucking with his family’s business. They’re fucking with mine. So someone really, really wants this to be quiet, and that should make you ”—I pointed at Dad and Colin—“really interested in finding out why.” I narrowed my eyes. “So are Everett and I doing this ourselves? Or are you guys going to help your colleagues shut us up?”
Two pairs of wide eyes stared back at me. Blood pounded in my ears. I’d never gone off on my dad like that, and he probably didn’t know what to make of it. I wasn’t so sure I knew what to make of it.
After a painfully long moment of silence, Dad cleared his throat. “You two say you have evidence. That this isn’t a suicide.” His eyes flicked between us. “Just the smear of blood and the footprint? Or is there more?”
I exhaled. “We talked to his girlfriend. She gave us some info.”
“Yeah,” Everett said. “And she’s also the daughter of the Chief of Police.”
Dad’s eyes went huge. “Wait. She’s Bill Daniels’s daughter? And she was connected to Leighton? Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” Everett nodded. “They have a kid and everything. Apparently Daddy didn’t like that they got back together.”
Dad exhaled a string of profanity more vulgar than I’d ever heard from him, which said a lot. He turned to Colin. “Did you know this part?”
Colin nodded sheepishly.
“Shit.” Dad rubbed the back of his neck, then let his hand drop to the table with a smack. “Now it makes sense that Detective Reardon is involved.”
“How so?” I asked.
Dad spoke low so only those of us at the table could hear him. “Because he wants to make lieutenant, and there’s some stuff in his file that’s stopping him from getting promoted.” He sighed heavily. “Chief Daniels keeps telling him to keep his nose clean, and maybe some of that stuff will…” He gestured like something flying away.
My stomach clenched. “So, Daniels could be making Reardon clean up the mess.”
“It’s possible,” Dad conceded. “Doesn’t seem like something Daniels would do, though.”
“Except for the part where he’s going to make shit on Reardon’s file…” Everett mimicked Dad’s flying away gesture.
Dad scowled at him. “That’s not what I mean. I mean, Daniels has plenty of cronies. If he wanted to keep something like this quiet—and especially if he wanted to off his daughter’s boyfriend—he’s in tight with people in town who do things like that.”
Everett’s eyebrows shot up.
I shifted nervously. “You think he’d hire a pro.”
Dad pursed his lips and hesitated like he really didn’t want to answer. Then he gave a slow nod. “If Reardon is involved, I don’t think Chief Daniels put him up to it.”
“So you think Reardon did it on his own?” I asked. “Or someone else told him to?”
“Don’t know. I’d need to look at the evidence. What little there is.”
I studied him. “ Will you look at it?”
Dad looked at me. Then Everett. Then me again. Finally, he said, “If I say I’ll look into it, will you boys stay the hell away from it?”
“ If you’re actually looking into it,” Everett challenged.
Anger flashed across my dad’s face, but he schooled his expression. “I’ll look into it.” He pointed at each of us. “You two? You get your asses home tonight. You operate like normal tomorrow—out in public, doing what you normally do. You got it?”
“Yeah, great,” Everett said. “Except whoever’s trying to shut us up made sure my family’s missing some critical documentation.” He spread his hands. “I can’t operate like normal until someone fixes that.”
Dad looked like he was about to lash out, but Colin stepped in. “I’ll make some calls when I’m back in my car. I’ll make sure it’s straightened out by tomorrow.”
That seemed to mollify Everett, and he backed down. So did I.
Fine. We’d go home. We’d act normal.
But only if Dad kept up his end of the deal.