41. Forever & Always #3
“The Jordan girl. What was it that pushed you to it? The prosecutor didn’t feel comfortable indicting on circumstantial evidence? You aimed her in my direction—"
“That poor girl was lost and heading your way, regardless.”
I shake my head, tutting. “A bit underhanded, don’t you think?”
“I had no idea you’d hurt—"
“Don’t lie. You had meetings with her, pumped her head so full of your bullshit that she was bursting with it. You give her money for her fix too? Keep her close? What would the FBI think, Detective Altman, about your little chess piece being chopped to death for nothing?”
His face reddens as he charges me, and I can see it; the weight this has taken. The confirmation of what he knew. Jessica is dead and he’s at least in part responsible for letting it happen, for toying with a drugged-out, grieving girl. For making her mother alone in the world. “I had no idea—"
“It’s a shame about their mother. Wonder how long she’ll make it with both of her children gone.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
I raise my eyebrows, glancing at his finger pointed at my chest. “If you insist, I was under the impression we were here to talk.”
He clears his throat, backing up because I’m right and he’s got fuck all to counter that with, so he lashes out like any frustrated child would. Unfortunately for him, his words strike home. “Where’s your girl, Bell? She must be scared.”
I swallow, staring at him, letting his words sink into the buzzing until the empty fullness of the pins and needles spread through every inch of me.
“It’s a shame someone so innocent, so sweet, is wrapped up in all this. Makes someone desperate. Desperate people, well… I heard Braylon talking. She was a mess when he pulled her inside that office. She has a history, you know, of suicide attempts.”
Rage bubbles up in my gut, choking. That tidal wave of anger lapping over my head, pulling and jerking me deeper. Desperation has never been a good look for me.
“We’ll take a break,” he offers, gathering his binder.
“You’d harass a traumatized, innocent woman for what?”
“I’d do anything to get answers for the families you’ve destroyed.”
“Perhaps Renee Jordan will forgive you after all. For getting her daughter killed.”
The man shudders. “They deserve justice, Bell. There’s got to be something remotely human in you deep down that wants to give them that. Something in you that knows I’m keeping Audrey safe too, safe from you.”
Only I can keep Audrey safe. My hands fist under the table. Nodding as he turns away, heading for the door and swinging it open harder than he needs to. “We shall see.”
My eyes meet Brady’s in the hall.
He looks away.
“See what?” Altman asks with a heavy sigh.
I smile. “If you can get to her before I do.”
He laughs, gesturing to the room as if to point out that I’m locked in here before shaking his head as he heads out. “We’ll talk after you’ve stewed for a while. I’ve got cases to close. Families to call.”
I don’t wait as long as I should before I knock on the door, calling out to my dutiful and nervous guard.
It takes a few tries before he answers, teetering it open, just a crack.
My eyes canvas the busy room, finding most everyone’s focus on the doors outside the station, the eager detective indeed giving his press conference.
“Could I get a cup of water, or coffee? I’m not picky. ”
He hesitates, glancing over at the crowded room to his side. “Uhm yeah, give me a second.”
I nod gratefully. Looking friendly as I back up, loosening my shoulders before placing myself in my seat.
The air in the room is stiff when I drag it through my lungs.
When he enters, I’m ready, feet planted firmly on the floor, eyes shut.
Open unassuming. He hesitates again at the door before I hear him shuffle in.
The moment the cup, a ceramic coffee mug, and the sound of it land on the table, I lurch up.
His mouth gapes in a silent yell as I use his own momentum against him, jerking him to me by his outstretched hand.
It’s nothing too difficult after that. He’s strong, stronger than me, trained for this, but he’s nervous.
And I’m determined, agonized, buzzing.
The hornets are here, and I choked nineteen years ago when I met a little girl named Audrey. I haven’t managed a lungful since.
The moment I get his back to my chest, his hands fumbling for his service weapon as I squeeze my arm around his neck, not to cut off the airway, but to apply pressure to the spine.
Growing up, my father thought giving me private access to the bodies would help me vent some of my anger, and it did.
It was exhilarating for a time. What it also did was teach me far more than medical school.
It taught me all the interesting ways a human body could break.
I struggle to stifle my own grunt of exertion as I heave backward, overextending my back until a muffled pop sounds in the room and the heavy man goes limp in my arms.
My thoughts are empty of all things except blonde hair and sad hazel eyes as I quietly open the door and slip down the hall, the sun long gone from the sky.