Chapter Twenty
Bhodi
This isn’t how I wanted the evening to go, but anything we do rarely goes to plan and these past few days have proven this. Pulling up outside the old familiar house, I feel a small smile try to pull at my lips, the place could do with a paint, the small front yard needs to be tended to and the garage around the side is in need of a new door. I avoid coming here if I’m honest, I own it and it’s mine but there’s a bittersweetness to it each time I stare up at the fading paint work. I find my eyes looking towards the house next door, with its new windows, new doors, fresh paint and new family. A few kids’ toys scatter the front yard, a little girl’s dream house and a boy’s pushbike. My body always seems to deflate when I see what the house next door has now become, it shines bright with love, affection, kindness and warmth but deep inside I still feel the bitter child with hot tears in his eyes, the jealousy coursing through me like a rampant disease. I wish nothing but good luck to the family that now owns my childhood home, washing away the sadness of my own with the happiness and joy of their own lives.
Sliding from the car, both Summer and Eva follow suit, whilst both eye me warily. I choose to ignore it for now and head around the back of the house, subtly checking over my shoulder to make sure no one is watching us. The street is always quiet, little traffic comes through here and all the neighbours keep to themselves.
Don’t I fucking know it.
Maybe that’s why I hate coming here so much? Because the people who were likely at their windows and twitching their curtains saw everything that happened that night but decided to not get involved. So instead of them coming forward to help a young boy, who was severely distressed, terrified and calling for help, they thought it was best for them to shut the windows and curtains and block his pleas out and make themselves feel better for not involving themselves with the junkie’s family across the street. The thought sends a bitter taste to my mouth, the idea that someone could watch their neighbours suffer, followed by the flooding of police and ambulance sirens, the blue lights blaring and lighting up the entire street, and still no one wanted to help, no one wanted to help me, they’d washed their hands of me and my mom a long time ago and honestly I can’t blame them. She was an aggressive junkie and her boyfriend was just a violent piece of shit who needed a place to stay. I guess the neighbours had a point, who the fuck would want to involve themselves with that mess?
Slotting the key into the back door, I jiggle the old lock slightly as the back door opens and I gesture for both girls to head inside. Glancing towards the backyard and scanning across the overgrown space, I make a mental note of things that need to be done eventually but don’t allow myself time to bask in the delight, instead closing the door behind me and standing in the darkness of the kitchen for a moment.
“What’s going on?”
Summer asks quietly, unnerved by my behaviour.
She looks towards Eva, who looks to the floor and wraps her arms around her body to protect herself. I look between them for a moment, unsure what to say or how to say it. I dragged her from the hotel without even explaining why and she just went along, because our lives have descended into chaos. A few short weeks have offered me a love and desire like no other but at the same time it’s giving us lies, secrets, threats and carnage. I don’t want Summer to spend her life looking over her shoulder, second guessing herself and scared that at any moment she could be killed. I know what we’ll have to do, but it feels different this time. These people are a genuine threat to us, no more maverick behaviour and not giving a fuck about our welfare, shit got real and it got real, real fucking quick.
“Patrol officers found Eric a couple hours ago, shot in his car.”
Running a hand across my mouth, I continue. “Strode called Jimmy from a payphone to let him know.”
Summer’s entire body deflates; a mask of sadness coats her face. I know that even though Eric set her up a few days ago, she still felt a small amount of fondness towards him. She knew he was made to do it and likely didn’t have a choice.
“Do they know who did it?”
“No, it looks like a robbery, but that’s all I know.”
I shake my head. “I’m going to see Strode, but I need you both to stay here, don’t turn the lights on but try and get some rest, OK?”
She doesn’t reply, she merely nods before moving away from the kitchen. Eva shoots me a worried look but eventually follows her towards the living room. I wait for a moment, but there’s nothing but silence filling the old house. Locking the door behind me, I head back towards the car and drive off towards Strode’s house.
The drive feels as though it drags on forever. I anxiously keep checking in the rearview mirror, taking odd turns prolonging my journey further and making sure I’m not being followed, my anxiety beginning to weigh heavy over me and pulling me down. Switching the ignition off, I find myself parked up a couple streets away, parking the car under a large tree to obscure its view from neighbours, but glancing around there’s no lights coming from the houses at this time. Lucky for the residents they’re probably getting a decent night’s sleep. Locking the car and picking up the pace, I heard for Strode’s backyard, lucky for me, his yard backs onto his neighbours who I know is an elderly man whose home help put him to bed around eight p.m. Throwing myself over his wall, I land firmly outside Strode’s house. Knocking gently on the back door, it doesn’t take long for my long-term friend to appear at the back door, pissed off and armed.
“What the fuck, Grey?”
he spits out, pushing the door open and practically dragging me inside, before placing his gun on the counter. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Al, is everything OK?”
Maggie’s familiar voice approaches and soon she stands in the kitchen, the look of anger on her face before she walks over and smacks me hard across the chest. “What the hell are you doing? Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been about you, Bhodi?”
The tears soon fill her eyes and she pulls me close.
Wrapping my arms around her tightly, I feel her small frame shake with anger and sadness. “I’m sorry, Maggie, I had no idea what to do,”
I say calmly.
She looks up towards me, wiping the tears from her eyes and she shakes her head. “You come to us! You come to see the ones who love and care about you! Not gallivanting off into the abyss with no way to contact you!”
Strode gently pulls Maggie away, wrapping his arms around her. He gently guides her towards the stairs. “We’ll sort this, get some rest and I’ll be up soon.”
When he walks back in, still leaning heavily on his walking stick, he shakes his head. Pouring us both a coffee, followed by a whiskey in both, he gestures for me to follow him into the small study he has. I take a seat at the opposite side of the desk, my eyes immediately landing on the Harry and Summer murder casefile. He takes a sip of his coffee, before sighing and finally looking towards me, the anger and frustration in his eyes slowly melting away.
“I’m so sorry about Summer, I…”
“She’s not dead.”
I cut him off immediately, not wanting to hear the rest of his sentence.
The cup freezes halfway to his lips and he blinks a couple times before straightening in his chair.
“What?”
“It was all a set-up, Strode, she’s not dead, neither is Harry.”
“What the fuck?”
He practically drops the cup onto the desk, the coffee sloshing over the oak.
The room feels like it’s getting smaller, Strode’s penetrating gaze refusing to leave mine and I can see the questions swirling around him, the shock and confusion evident by his lack of words.
“She’s been with me.”
“Fucking explain, Grey, and I mean everything.”
“After Dean and Callaghan arrested me, they dragged me into an interview. Strode, they had everything, my DNA on her body, Summer’s body in the morgue, a confession from some fake cop about me having Harry killed. I’d been with Summer that night, I admitted to us being involved, because it was true. I was nowhere near the apartment when the fire started, but I knew it had. During the interview Jimmy turned up, he said someone had dropped the footage off to him and he knew he had to come in and help me. They didn’t have enough to hold me, I didn’t know until I saw her face to face that I was being setup.”
Strode just stares at me, I know he has far more questions than I have answers and some of the answers he may not like.
“How did Jimmy know she was alive?”
“She knew she couldn’t go home and his address was the only one she could remember.”
“Because of her dad?”
“Yeah.”
Strode leans back in his chair, reaching for his coffee. He takes a sip before swirling the liquid in his mug. He looks between me and all the casefiles on his desk, rocking gently back and forth, his mind processing the information.
“Do Dean and Callaghan know she’s alive?”
I feel my shoulders drop slightly with my fingers laced around the hot mug. I watch as it begins to tremble slightly, the liquid rippling as the anger brews within me. The entire arrest and interview replaying in my mind, as well as the parts in between. The looks I received. The quick glances, hell even the fucking smirks from those who seemed far too happy to be part of the gossip swirling around me.
“Possibly,”
I reply bluntly.
“What are you trying to say, kid?”
Strode asks, a cold tone woven into his question.
“I think the captain knew it was a setup. That I was being framed. But Callaghan, I’m not too sure about.” I shrug.
“I don’t think he is involved, he came to me earlier today.”
I immediately stiffen, my eyes fixed on Strode, waiting for him to continue.
“Go on.”
“He brought me the files, he had concerns about the whole arrest and being new he wanted some advice.”
He gestures towards the casefiles on the desk.
“He thinks I’m being setup?”
“He didn’t outright say it, no, but he was more concerned with Dean’s behaviour, how confident he was about the entire arrest, well until Jimmy came in and bulldozed it entirely.”
“Where does it leave me?”
“Well no one can find you, so there’s a concern there. But you’re here because Jimmy told you about Eric Stanton earlier this evening.”
“Did you tell him?”
Strode’s eyes flicker to mine, an amused cocky smile lines his face as he quirks a brow towards me and he shakes his head.
“No, Grey, that would be unprofessional. I believe a concerned citizen made the call…from a payphone.”
He grins. “I’ve had a patrol car outside the house for a few days anyway, I think they’re assuming you’ll ring the doorbell.”
“They can get fucked,” I snipe.
“What was Callaghan’s excuse to come over?”
“Ah, he told Dean some crap about checking on me and making sure you hadn’t been by.”
He shrugs. “I guess Dean still thinks he’s new and wants to impress him.”
“Surely if Callaghan can see how fucked this is, then everyone else can?”
“I don’t know, kid, I haven’t been able to find out much, especially since you’re my partner and I’m on sick leave until a doctor clears me.”
Strode stops for a moment and begins to study me. The cogs in his head turn away, before he leans a little closer. “If Summer is alive, who the hell is lying in the morgue?”
I gnaw on my bottom lip for a moment, unsure how to answer the question. If I tell him what I know, then this could open up something new entirely. Sensing my concern, he doesn’t let up or lean back in his chair. I know he wants to know the truth, and I want to tell him. He and Maggie were the only people who seemed to care about me. I can see how much I’ve upset Maggie by disappearing and Strode was disappointed that I didn’t feel I could seek guidance from him. The clock in the background ticks away and as each moment passes, finding the words to explain becomes more distant and harder to catch, but I know after everything that has happened, my life won’t be the same again.
“Nate Jordan, he’s been falsifying documents for Luca Bernardi,”
I state. “He admitted to the Pamela Jones’ trial and Summer’s death, along with my DNA.”
“But you had slept with Summer?”
Strode asks, confused.
“He lied on the report, said my DNA was found on that burnt body. I never saw it, then once we helped him get away from the city with his family, he told me Harry Maine wasn’t dead either.”
“What the fuck?”
Strode snaps.
“That means half of the cops in that precinct have either turned a blind eye or have lied. I never saw his body, I came in and interviewed Brent Mason right away. The kid was a junkie, looking back, I couldn’t tell if he was high or not, if someone told him that’s what he had done, he likely believed it. The entire thing was a setup, to frame me.”
“And the cop that made the initial claim has disappeared.”
“His body will be found in a dumpster in a few weeks, Luca wouldn’t keep someone alive who knew the truth.”
“Even so, how the fuck did you find out about Nate Jordan?”
Strode asks, perplexed.
I study Strode for a moment, knowing now that I need to trust my friend and partner with the secret that’s been weighing me down since before we met. But at the same time, I need to appreciate this is a fucking lot to take in.
“An …e-quaintance…took him and brought him to me,”
I begin. “Once we knew Summer was alive and I’d seen her for myself, we knew someone was lying. Jimmy had read the autopsy report during my interview and saw Nate’s name on the paperwork, but he already knew Summer was still alive. I didn’t know until later, so when he was picked up, he spilled his guts about everything.”
“What are you into, Grey?”
“I kill people, Strode, I kill people who escape justice. When the justice system fails them, we step in…and make them go away.”
Once the words leave my mouth, there’s no pulling them back. The room feels like ice, Strode stares at me like he doesn’t recognise the person sitting in front of him. His jaw goes slack and I can almost see the goosebumps rising on his skin. He squints his eyes for a moment as though the entire room has blurred, but I know it hasn’t, but likely his opinion of me has.
“You worked with Michael Harper?”
The question floors me instantly, I feel my own goosebumps descending over my skin like tiny ants. We’re in a deadlock, neither one of us speaks and the room begins to feel as though it’s sliding into the abyss.
“What?”
I ask, unsure how he’d ever come to that conclusion.
“How did you think Michael had access to all the information he needed?”
The thought never crossed my mind, I knew he was getting it from somewhere but for a long time I’d assumed Jimmy had someone in the NYPD he was able to get files off. The reports, current addresses, contact information. It never crossed my mind how close to home the person could really be.
“You?”
Strode nods. “Not all the time, we had to be careful.”
He leans into the bottom draw of his desk, pouring a large whiskey into the now empty mug and filling mine too. “Donavon was my partner before he retired.”
“The guy on Pamela’s case?”
“Yeah, he was assigned to the case as his final stint before retirement. It was open and shut, in his eyes. No evidence, no witnesses willing to come forward. Just Luca’s word against hers, and when I heard about the outcome, it broke my fucking heart, kid. What that poor girl had gone through, what she’d had to relive at the trial, no one should ever have to suffer that way. During the trial, Michael became suspicious and asked to speak with me. Maggie had just left so I spent a lot of lonely nights at the Blue Bar. He was concerned Luca wouldn’t be convicted and if I’m honest neither was I.”
“What happened?”
“We had no proof but could tell something was going on. At the time we didn’t realise how many corrupt cops were roaming the city, but we had a feeling there could be a few pulling some strings. The plan was initially to kill Luca, but Michael knew it would be messy, nasty and far too dangerous. Over a bottle of whisky one night, I joked about a vigilante team, but the determined look in Michael’s eyes was all I needed to see. He was going to do this, but he’d wait for Luca, he had to.”
“What did he ask you to do?”
“If he’d heard cops mouthing off in the bar about some scum who’d scared their partners into not testifying, woman too scared to make a complaint, people harassing families…He’d ask for the files, which I gave him and he’d judge whether it was worth the risk…of getting them off the streets for good. Very few people truly knew what was going on and after a while, Michael asked me to distance myself, he didn’t want anyone coming after me.”
“When did you last see him?”
“Just before you were assigned as my new partner…strangely enough.”
He raises a brow towards me.
“But in the club, when you saw his body, you didn’t even flinch?”
“I couldn’t. When I finally got home I cried like a fucking baby, a good man was dead because he stood up to scum.”
“Daly set him up.”
“That fucking cunt.”
He slams the mug back down onto the desk, almost shattering it. He looks to me once again, cocking his head slightly to one side before nodding. “You killed him, didn’t you?”
“I killed Alex too.” I smirk.
“The missing kid who set me up?”
“Very much dead.”
“The blood at his apartment?”
“Daly likely trying to set Luca up, he admitted to trying on a few occasions but each time failed. Daly was indebted to Luca, he wasn’t about to let him go that easily.”
“This is a lot to take in, kid.”
Strode runs a hand through his grey hair, the weight of my admission weighing on his shoulders.
“I know, Strode, but once I’ve tied up the loose ends, I’m gone.”
“And Summer?”
I can’t help the warmth I feel at the mention of her name, it’s as though the clouds have parted revealing a warm golden sunshine overhead. I see her smile, the way her eyes glitter like the ocean and I can almost feel her kind touch against my skin.
“I asked her to marry me.”
“What did she say?”
Strode asks, surprised.
“I got the call from Jimmy about Eric, before she could answer.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
I nod, the weight of the burning question weighing heavy on my shoulders.
The look of pure shock on her face was a picture, her jaw fell open and her big eyes stared at mine through the mirror, almost unsure if she was truly seeing what was scrawled across her skin. She was wearing my blood and it was fucking beautiful, the way it stained her sun-kissed back, branding her as mine. But the lack of an answer is bothering me at the back of my mind, the question was easy to ask but for some reason I didn’t allow myself to consider she would say no. There’s a lot of questions still unanswered between us, things we still don’t know about each other. Hell, I don’t even know her fucking birthday, I mean it’s easy enough to find out, but I haven’t asked her. I don’t know her favourite colour, favourite food and I only know how old he is because a fucking cop had to tell me.
Shit…
“Don’t talk yourself out of it,”
Strode interjects, shaking his head and smiling to himself.
“What?”
I ask, my brows crease.
“In the last couple minutes, your mind has fucked off somewhere, you’ve smiled, you’ve looked fucking miserable, shocked, even worried. I know what you’re thinking, but she won’t say no. That girl loves you, Bhodi, whatever else is spinning around in your mind, it doesn’t matter. You’ll make it work, if it’s meant to be, you’ll work out the kinks.”
Strode smiles, a warm bright smile whilst he offers his words of advice and I do begin to feel my body relax.
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Pfft…I know I’m right, kid, but as much as I’d rather discuss happier topics with you. What the fuck are you gonna do?”
And there it is, the dreaded question. I feel myself recoil slightly, since it feels so final. A few short weeks of chaos have plagued and taken over our lives. One man is behind it all, pulling the strings and making his helpless puppets dance for him. Picking them off one by one would feel satisfying, but we can’t. We need to head for the source of the disease, cut him down and deal with the fall out after.
“We’re going to kill Luca.”
I look to Strode, who nods.