TWENTY-SEVEN
HAYDEN
BOSTON
DECEMBER
"Gone? What do you mean it's gone?"
"Specific files—three very damning files.
The other texts could be brushed off by a good defense lawyer.
Rick might argue he's always near you, so Britney saw him, and you happened to be there too.
There was enough to hint at something ongoing between them," Aisha's mouth twists.
"A sexual relationship between Rick and Britney. "
The idea of Rick and Britney trading favors to find me makes me sick.
Jesus, how fucking low can someone get?
"These files had a hotel, a time, and referenced Vegas. You weren't planning to go to Vegas, right?"
"No, I've been to Vegas when I played for the Tornadoes, but Emerald was there and we..." My face heats, and I look down at the kitchen island I'm sitting at. "We didn't really leave the hotel room..."
Tim groans like he didn't want to hear that information. Linda snickers, and Aisha nods, understanding.
"It mentioned 'another Vegas fix.' The language was purposeful. Not a fix, like getting your fix. Like setting something up."
My heart slams in my chest, and Aisha leans forward.
"Do you personally know of any of Rick's connections? "
I shake my head. "He presented himself as a one-man stop. Lawyer. Agent. Manager. He only represented one person at a time, so he could dedicate his full focus."
"That's a little odd," Aisha frowns. "Sports agents sometimes represent dozens of clients."
"I thought it was good because my last agent represented sixty athletes. He barely texted me back. I thought..." I look down, jaw clenched. "I thought it was a good thing that Rick was so involved."
"Would you mind sending over your contract to me? I want to take a closer look at it."
I nod, take out my phone, quickly find the file, and Aisha gives me her personal email. "Just in case," she says, uneasy. "I want to be sure no one's digging through my work emails."
"This is insane," I mutter. Every day gives me a new reason to regret every meeting with Rick Fox, signing with this town, and the man I was becoming here. I shudder to think of the future if we stayed here. I don't think Emerald would have stayed much longer.
My neck prickles as Aisha's words finally settle in.
Rick.
Vegas.
"Jace Ward."
"He fucked his career up."
But did he? Was this Rick's doing the whole time?
"Who's Jace Ward?" Aisha asks.
"Former captain of the Bullies..." I say, the words hanging in the air as Aisha looks at me blankly.
She sighs, "Kid, we're a football family, not hockey—no offense."
"Oh. Right," I say, the thought of liking football more than hockey is inconceivable to me. I pull out my phone and type his name into the search engine, and show Aisha the results.
Aisha's eyes narrow as she reads. "Busted with cocaine and hookers. Squeaky-clean image before; loyal family man. Hm... you think he set up Jace?"
"I don't know. I didn't know the guy. We played against each other, but... he seemed alright. Like... me ..." I finish lamely. I didn't know much about Jace Ward, but from the little DeMar had mentioned, the guy was completely devoted to his high school sweetheart, his wife.
Then he gets busted with drugs and sex workers in Vegas.
I thought it was just another weak guy who fell into the lifestyle.
A chill runs down my spine.
Would I have eventually fallen that far?
Or, worse, did I misjudge Jace, and Rick orchestrated this?
"I'm going to try to get in contact with this Jace Ward and see what he says," Aisha says.
"What do we do about the missing files? Are they backed up?"
Aisha's lips curve into a smirk. "Yes, they're backed up.
But I would have to go down to IT to restore them, and I don't know who the rat in the department is.
So," Aisha reaches into her black bag, pulling out two rectangular objects.
"I already backed everything up onto these hard drives as soon as we accessed the files. "
She places them on the kitchen island, and my mouth drops open. "Holy shit."
Linda and Tim stare, too stunned for Linda to even scold me for swearing. Silence follows as the realization hits.
Aisha grins. "Someone was tampering. Ramirez and I set a trap; the files vanished, and that confirmed it. Rick Fox likely has people inside ."
I raise an eyebrow. "Why? How? He's just a sports agent."
"It's all about connections, and this guy has them.
There's a code in this city. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.
There's been corruption in and out of the station.
Two years ago, we got a new Captain," Aisha gives me a significant look.
" Very suddenly. Bypassed all the usual hiring procedures because he's a good friend of the Mayor.
Things changed after he came in. More focus on quotas, on padding numbers, on arresting people for holding an eighth of weed, but letting the city Comptroller out with a slap on the wrist for racketeering. "
"I'd do some digging on a case and be blocked or redirected to another.
Months-long backlog of rape kits, no forward movement, especially when a poor woman is assaulted in this fucking city—" Aisha cuts herself off and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes.
She takes a long sip of the coffee from her mug.
Linda, unable to stand by while someone hurts for even a moment, walks to Aisha and pats her back. The detective gives her a grateful look, then meets my eyes.
"I jumped on Emerald's case because I couldn't stand to see this happen anymore.
Ramirez... he wanted it too. That's his story to tell, but he's got a personal vendetta against our captain.
He's back at the station covering for me now," Aisha meets my eyes, and her voice drops.
"I was never here. This conversation never happened.
I don't want you to call me on my cellphone anymore. We'll meet in person only."
I sit there reeling.
How did we get here?
A month ago, I was a hockey player, falling down a bad path that indirectly caused my wife to be assaulted.
Now I feel trapped—caught in citywide corruption, a dirty agent, and a stalker, all working together to destroy my marriage.
And for what?
I just want to get my wife home.
But I won't rest until we find Rick.
"Have you gone to Rick's apartment?" I ask her.
"Rick's license address is outdated; new owners don't know him." Aisha frowns. "You ever been to his place?"
I deflate. "No, he was always tight-lipped about personal details. I just... thought he was private."
"This asshole is just a step ahead of us every move we make," Aisha growls.
How the fuck could we find him? If he's outsmarting, or rather, if he has people inside the department, then who the hell can we trust to find him?
Someone not on the police, but who has that reach? Who has those connections?
I don't know anyone who—
A possibility comes to mind. I shut it down immediately.
No.
I won't reach out to him, no matter how many connections he has across this goddamn world.
I won't open that door.
I won't let him near Emerald again.
A ringed hand coming down toward her face.
Emerald flinching.
My hand around his throat.
"Don't you fucking touch her!"
"Shit, I have to get back," Aisha hisses as she checks her watch, standing from her chair and downing the rest of the coffee.
She places one of the external hard drives in her bag and points to the other.
"Hayden, this does not leave your possession.
If Internal Affairs finds out I made these, I'm done. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I say, picking up the device. It feels heavy, not from its actual weight, but from the contents on it. Months of correspondence between Rick and Britney, and I can only imagine the vileness it's filled with. I place it in my pocket and nod my head. "I understand."
"When are you leaving Boston?"
"She gets the wiring out of her mouth next week. We'll be cleared to travel then."
"Good," Aisha nods. "The distance between you and this city will be good."
The floor creaks in the hallway, and my eyes snap toward it. My body relaxes when I see Emerald peeking around the corner. I wonder how long she's been there, and how much she's heard.
"Hi, baby," I murmur, holding out my hand for her.
"Hi, Emerald," Aisha smiles warmly. "How are you feeling?"
Emerald gives a small smile and thumbs up to Aisha before shuffling over to us. Linda immediately starts fussing over Emerald, asking if she's hungry, thirsty, or needs anything. Aisha pulls the bag over her shoulder, and Tim says he'll walk her to her car.
"Keep your circle tight," Aisha says, nodding to my pocket. "I'll be in touch."
"Thank you," I whisper, and Aisha nods, before she and Tim walk toward the front door.
I turn back to Emerald, now at the island, spooning yogurt into her mouth. She's eager to get the wiring out so she can eat solid food again. I'm eager to hear the voice I've missed. "How much did you hear? "
Emerald looks a little sheepish.
"All of it?"
She nods, but I notice her eyes shimmer as if holding back tears.
She reaches for Linda's pen and pad of paper by her purse and writes something down.
He's going to get away.
My stomach drops at the written words.
She heard it all.
She heard all about the corruption of the city I brought us to. She sits quietly now, shoulders slumped, gaze distant, sadness lingering in her eyes even as her mom braids her hair and her dad tells a joke, waiting for her to smile.
It follows Emerald into her dreams.
"Shh... Emerald, it's okay, baby," I murmur into her ear, trying to resist the urge to wrap my arms around her flailing body.
Around midnight, I brought us back to the bedroom.
We lay on the bed, face to face, my fingers gently caressing her cheek while she tried so hard to fall asleep.
Taking a page from her Mom, I started humming to her—Yellow, the song we danced to at our backyard wedding—and eventually her breathing evened out, and she drifted. She didn't rest, though.
Every half hour, she would stir, make this whining sound that felt like a stab to my heart, and twitch. Her face pulled tight, lips tilted down, brow furrowed, and even a tear or two slipped from her eyes.
This is the fourth time she's stirred, and I know I'm not getting a wink of sleep tonight. Not because of Emerald, but because of the conversation with Aisha and the fact that my mind won't fucking let go of that thought I don't want to touch .
I know he has the reach. I know he has the connection. I know that his man, whom he would drunkenly brag about finding the impossible out about his business enemies, could track down Rick Fox. But do I want to open that door? And would he even help me?
The last time I saw him—
I shove the thought away.
Firmly. Lock it up. Throw away the key.
Until Emerald sobs in her sleep, her hand reaching out blindly as if searching for something—searching for me. I move closer to her and slowly wrap my arm around her. She burrows into me, like she's trying to climb into my skin, so I say fuck it and wrap my arms around her.
After a few minutes, she settles.
"I'm here, Emerald. I'm here," I whisper, pressing kisses to her temple. "I'm not going anywhere."
Emerald makes a humming noise from her throat, and I start humming once more.
I don't sleep because, despite my words, my wife's cries echo through my head, Rick's face is a stain I can't remove, and he's hiding. And if he hides well enough, he's just going to get away with it.
That thought just won't fucking leave my head.
That my wife will have to deal with this trauma forever with no justice. The man who assaulted her will go to prison for a decade. Britney will never step within a hundred feet of us again. But Rick might get away scot-free.
And I don't know if I could live with myself if that were to happen.
Emerald wakes around six, groggy, with dark circles under her eyes, hair mussed. She gives me a tight smile as she heads to the shower, shaking her head when I ask if she needs help, wants food, or wants me to wash her because I'm becoming almost desperate to care for her.
And as she's in the shower, my hand moves before I can think better of it.
I take out my phone, scroll down my blocked contacts, and hover over that number.
Do I want to open this door?
No.
Would it help Emerald to open this door?
Yes. And for Emerald, I would do anything.
My finger unblocks the number, and I press call, my hand shaking as I raise the phone to my ear.
It rings once.
Twice, and I'm tempted to just hang up when—
"Hayden?"
His voice is different, older, rougher... sad.
"Hayden, is that you, son?"
My jaw locks, and I shove the name out through gritted teeth.
"Hal."