Chapter 5 Tom
Tom
Once December rolled around, the police department hosted its annual holiday party. Most of the ME’s staff had been invited to join in as well, considering our jobs overlapped more often than not.
Someone had outdone themselves with the decorations this year.
Twinkling fairy lights were strung across the ceiling, wreaths hung on every door, garlands wrapped around the staircases in spirals of green, dotted with tiny bells that jingled whenever someone brushed past. A towering Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, its branches heavy with shimmering ornaments, a gold star perched at the top.
From the speakers flowed a steady stream of Christmas music, classics blending into pop renditions.
The department’s unofficial mascot, a grumpy German shepherd named Max, had been reluctantly crowned with a pair of reindeer antlers.
He didn’t move much these days, but he still liked to be where the people were, especially when ham was involved.
A few people had taken to the makeshift dance floor, while others crowded around the buffet table. Even the higher-ups had loosened up, thanks to the steady rotation of drinks in their hands. The only one seemingly immune to the holiday cheer was Detective Sawyer.
She stood off to the side, her simple black dress making her fade into the background. Her hair was down tonight, softening the sharp edges of her cheekbones and jaw. The only pop of color was her lipstick, a deep ruby shade that matched the wine swirling lazily in her glass.
I hadn’t planned on approaching her. Not really. But something about the way she stood there, like the eye of a storm as chaos whirled around her, pulled me in anyway.
“Detective,” I greeted, moving into her orbit. “You look nice tonight.”
Her gaze cut to me, flat and cold. The temperature in our little corner of the room dropped ten degrees in an instant.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
I blinked, caught off guard by her tone. “Nothing? I just meant you look… nice?”
“So I don’t usually look nice? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
I wasn’t sure what I’d done, but judging by her expression, it fell somewhere between felony and personal insult. I wasn’t sure which one was worse.
“What? No, I—”
One minute in, and I was already crashing and burning. This had to be some new kind of personal record.
Detective Sawyer continued to watch me flounder for a few more moments. Then, her lips twitched and the whole serious facade dissolved like smoke. “Relax, Hayes,” she said, a full grin breaking across her face now. “I’m just messing with you.”
Of course, she was. I huffed through my nose.
“And here I thought you might take the day off with the holidays.”
“Nah. I’d never do that to you. And besides, all of this—” she said, gesturing vaguely around us—“is wildly overrated.”
“Now, now, Detective. Where’s your holiday spirit?”
“Lost it somewhere between my third homicide this month. I swear, this time of the year never fails to bring out the murderous streak in people.”
Well, wasn’t that the truth…
Detective Sawyer sighed. “Tell me, Hayes, how much longer do I have to endure this torture before it’s socially acceptable for me to leave?”
“Another hour. Give or take.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
To say Detective Sawyer looked less than thrilled would be an understatement. Her fingers kept flirting with the stem of her glass, gliding the wine in slow circles, the deep burgundy catching the light like silk in motion.
She seemed bored out of her mind.
I could relate.
These kinds of things were the perfect setting for soft politics and covert power plays; nothing I had an interest in.
I already knew what to expect going in—music I didn’t care for, food I wouldn’t touch, all wrapped up in an endless stream of superficial small talk.
But skipping these things altogether only made you look worse.
So I showed up, smiled when I had to, and counted down the minutes until I could finally slip out unnoticed.
Of course, it seemed that not all of us had this problem.
Naomi was weaving her way through the crowd, arm linked with a man I didn’t recognize.
She was a flash of white and red, cheery and festive.
At least someone didn’t look like they’d been dragged here against their will, though her good mood might have less to do with the party and more to do with her current companion.
“There you are,” Naomi said, like we were the last piece of some elaborate scavenger hunt. “I’ve been wondering where the two of you were hiding.”
Her cheeks were flushed, whether from alcohol or mischief—or both—I couldn’t tell. Something above our heads caught her attention, and her expression lit up with the kind of glee that usually spelled trouble for everyone involved.
“Well, well, would you look at that…”
Detective Sawyer followed Naomi’s gaze and immediately went rigid. A single sprig of mistletoe dangled directly above us, swaying slightly from the draft of the heat vent.
“No.” Detective Sawyer took a full step back, folding her arms across her chest like a barricade. “Absolutely not.”
Naomi looked delighted. “Shay. Are you rejecting one of the most sacred Christmas traditions?”
“The detective seems to be protesting anything even remotely festive,” I couldn’t help but add, earning myself a sharp glare.
“We are at a work event. It’s unprofessional.”
Naomi pressed a hand to her chest, affronted. “Your words cut deep, Shay. I was the one who helped with the decorations.”
“It’s nice,” I said.
“I can tell,” Detective Sawyer added, dryly.
Naomi leaned into her date and pressed a light kiss to his cheek.
“There. See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?
Seriously, you two…” She shook her head, amused and exasperated in equal measure as she tugged the man forward.
“Now, I want you to meet someone. Guys, this is Daniel. Daniel, these are my friends, Detective Shay Sawyer and Doctor Tom Hayes.”
Daniel extended his hand to me first. “Nice to meet you.”
His voice was pleasant, carrying a hint of an accent, though it wasn’t one I could place—something Eastern European, maybe.
“Likewise,” I replied.
Daniel turned to the detective next. “And the legendary Detective Sawyer. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Only the flattering parts, I hope.”
“Of course,” Daniel responded with an easy laugh.
The tie he wore matched Naomi’s dress. Not a last-minute invite, then.
“So…” Naomi said as she glanced around the room. “Who are we hiding from?”
“At the moment, Sergeant Cromwell. Try your best not to get cornered into a conversation about retirement plans with him—trust me,” I said, nodding toward the man holding court near the punch bowl.
Detective Sawyer took a thoughtful sip of her wine. “Or the mayor’s latest photo op. It can drag on for hours. On the bright side, there’s usually a dance-off before midnight. But whatever you do, don’t let anyone talk you into doing karaoke.”
Naomi nudged her date’s shoulder. “She’s kidding. Karaoke is reserved for Friday nights only. Tom always does Springsteen,” she stage-whispered the last part.
“Funny,” I said.
Daniel grinned. “I’ll keep my expectations appropriately high, then.”
Naomi linked her arm through his again. “Well, we’ll leave the two of you be. Behave yourselves, kids. Don’t stay out too late, don’t drink and drive, and above all, don’t do anything I would do.” She gave one last little wave over her shoulder as they disappeared back into the crowd.
I couldn’t help but note that they looked good together. Comfortable in a way new couples usually weren’t, like they’d already managed to settle into each other’s rhythms.
“I like him,” I commented. He seemed like someone who fit well with Naomi.
Detective Sawyer hummed noncommittally. “How long do you think this one will last?”
“Detective, that’s a rude thing to say,” I chided—then paused, considering. “I give it three months.”
I liked Naomi, but I also knew she didn’t have the best track record when it came to relationships.
“No way. One month, tops,” the detective countered, sounding absolutely sure of herself. “I bet you ten bucks.”
“You’re on.”
The music began to ease into something slower, a soft, crooning melody perfect for slow dancing. A few couples had already migrated to the middle of the room, swaying against each other with varying degrees of grace. I continued to watch them for a while before asking on a whim,
“Do you have anything special planned for the holidays, Detective?”
“Same as every year. Stay in. Avoid phone calls. Microwave something vaguely edible while watching shitty holiday movies. Clean up my living room, if I’m feeling particularly adventurous.”
I chuckled. “You certainly know how to live on the edge.”
“I do try,” Detective Sawyer said, voice dry as bone. “Actually… maybe I’ll skip the frozen meals this time around. My dad used to make the most amazing honey-glazed ham. Maybe I’ll give that a try.”
There was a certain tenderness in her voice that I was unaccustomed to hearing. The use of the past tense told me everything I needed to know. Nothing dredged up old ghosts quite like the holiday season, did it?
“What about you?” Detective Sawyer asked, seemingly shaking off whatever moment she’d been caught in.
“Honestly, probably something along those lines as well.”
The holidays had never been a good time for me.
Even now, I could feel the cold creeping in, the sharp chill biting at my skin.
The darkness. Raised voices behind a closed door.
Plates shattering against the wall. Soft crying.
Small hands gripping mine like a lifeline, fingers cold and trembling.
Then… silence. The kind that rang in your ears long after it was over.
“Where did you go?”
I heard Detective Sawyer ask, bringing me back to the present. Her eyes were on me, studying my face with a quiet kind of curiosity that felt almost intrusive.