Chapter Twelve
Upstairs
His Shared Office
Saturday Morning
Yeah, this was definitely bad. When the two of them got up there, Ridge laid on the couch and didn’t move. It was as if all of the energy in his body had been sucked out of him, so he had no desire to stay awake.
This was beyond hiding.
This was the epitome of hurting.
Lucian knew that the man was exhausted, despite having slept. When you were running from what chased you, there was never enough sleep.
Plus, he could feel him wanting to hide. That sorrow was chasing him, and when you couldn’t outrun it, you had to protect yourself any way possible.
And that was fine.
If it were him, he would likely be doing the same thing because he would have kept his ass in bed.
For YEARS.
Losing Bishop would have damn near killed him, and it wasn’t lost on him that Ridge was damn strong.
Well, stronger than him.
Despite that, a part of him was worried that Ridge might not pull out of this, and that scared him. It was always the two of them in the static, and he wasn’t sure how to regroup from that if he never got back.
Kneeling beside the couch, he took Ridge’s hand in his. The gold band from his wedding shined on his ring finger. It was pristine, unlike Ridge’s heart.
God.
He hoped nothing more hurt this man. Lucian wasn’t sure how to save him from that.
“I love you, Ridge.”
The man slowly nodded.
“I just need to hide. I can’t face it anymore. I’m not strong enough, Lucian.”
Yeah, he could see that.
“I’ll take you home if you need me to.”
Ridge was honest.
“You can leave me there and come back. I’ll go to sleep there.”
Yeah, no.
There was no freaking way he was leaving him, or Bishop alone next door to where Wynter took her life. That just screamed terrible idea.
“I have to stay with you,” he said.
Why?
Ridge was psychic, depressed, and he wasn’t risking it that this darkness would come for him.
Lucian wasn’t losing him.
He was going to be selfish and hold on with all he had.
Bet.
On.
That.
“Then, just leave me up here. I just want to sleep, Lucian. I want to sleep forever.”
Yeah, and that was his concern.
“If you need me, call for me,” he said, tipping his chin with his fingers to touch his lips with his. “I’ll come running for you. I’ll always come for you.”
When Ridge opened his eyes, there were tears in them.
“Something has to give,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I may have to leave. Being here…hurts. I let my wife down. She loved me, and I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. How do I live with that?”
Shit.
That was a problem on a few levels.
They couldn’t leave. He’d already told everyone he wouldn’t.
If Ridge left…
There went his tuner, and a good part of his heart. This was the other bad part about sex magick.
They’d bonded themselves to each other, and they couldn’t be apart.
Instead of saying anything now, he knew he needed to protect the man.
“Just rest,” he said. “I’m going to go into the static. We’ll find him. I promise.”
Instead of saying anything else, he rolled over, and Lucian covered him with a blanket. It smelled like him, and he hoped it would comfort Ridge in his time of mourning.
Then, he headed out.
He honestly hoped that they found something in the static because now he was worried not only about this entity taking over there but losing Ridge.
Wynter’s death hit hard.
But he had no clue just how hard it was going to hit.
Yeah, they were all about to find out.
* * * L I T T L E M O O N * * *
Thirty Minute Later
The Morgue
Discovery Time
Well, it was time to do the dance, and they knew it. Bodhi was a ‘by-the-books’ kind of an ME, and he would only bend so far.
At some point, he’d put his foot down and make them do it the much more difficult way.
That meant getting a warrant for the phone, despite what Ridge had told them about allowing it.
Bishop knew the length of hoops they were going to have to jump through was indicative of his mood.
Yeah, still, they were going to try to get him to give a little so they could do their jobs.
As they headed into the morgue, Bodhi was in aqua blue scrubs and working on some paperwork. He was perched on the little rolling stool he usually sat on to do his form-filling duties.
“Hey,” he said when he looked up and saw them entering the morgue. “I was just going to reach out to you two,” he stated. “Since this is your case.”
From the look of him, he looked…tired. That said one thing to them.
“Been here all night?” Honor asked.
He nodded.
“Yeah, I wanted to make sure that Wynter was taken care of, and I didn’t want just anyone to do it. Elias offered to do it, but I simply couldn’t let him. It was a pretty easy one, even for him as a newbie, but something told me not to do it.”
They appreciated that.
“For the record, and for Ridge, I didn’t open her up. I didn’t need to, really.”
Honor patted him on the back, and Bishop gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“You’re a good egg, Doc.”
What he was, unfortunately, was a sad egg. The last thing he enjoyed was autopsying or staring down at people he cared about.
A cop.
A family member.
A victim.
“I hate that she died, and I hate that Ridge lost his wife. I can’t imagine how he’s feeling. If that was my wife, I’d be a hot mess.”
Oh, well, they could tell him that his assessment wasn’t off by much.
“He’s a wreck. We’re barely keeping him afloat,” Bishop admitted.
Oh, he bet.
“Did you come for the autopsy results?” he asked. “Because like I said, straightforward and done. I’m ready for you.”
Honestly, they didn’t need that.
Why?
They knew what killed her.
Wynter’s own gun.
Because of this whole case, and the time sensitivity of it, it was time to ask the big favor.
“I need to be alone with Wynter,” Bishop said, leaving it at that.
He lifted a brow and lowered his voice.
“Is this woo-woo stuff?” he asked. “Wink-wink. Nudge-nudge?”
She laughed.
He was either three days past tired or he lost his mind. Bishop wasn’t sure which.
“Uh, no. Wrong Monroe and wrong Littlemoon,” she admitted. “We have her phone, and I need to get into it. We found out that she was seeing Doctor Kenyon for something. We think post-partum depression, so we want to get into her phone to look around.”
He stared at her.
Then, he shocked them both.
“Sure. I’ll get her.”
Honor and Bishop both stared at each other. This was definitely not what they expected to go down. They expected a little pushback, where they had to do the dance to get what they wanted.
Someone was beyond tired.
“Legit?” Honor asked.
He nodded.
Bodhi was to the point.
“She was my friend. I want to help you, and I know you’re good for the warrant to make this above board. I’ll get her. Do you want to see her, or do you want just her hand?” he asked. “I’m assuming a fingerprint, because face ID…”
Yeah, they knew that wasn’t possible.
Not only had they been on the original scene, but they knew it was a GSW to the head. Wynter was NOT going to look the same after laying in a morgue.
They could bet on that.
“I want to say goodbye,” Bishop said. “I know we were called to the scene, but she was my friend,” she said, tears filling her eyes.
Immediately, Honor stood in solidarity because Wynter was her friend, too.
“We both need this.”
Bodhi stood, and he was sympathetic.
How could he not be?
When his mom died, even though he’d found her, he’d wanted that last goodbye too. For some reason, it helped to be able to say goodbye.
“No worries, Detectives. I’ll get her for you.”
Thank.
Freaking.
God.
They both owed Bodhi one.
With that, he headed into the cooler and wheeled her out on the morgue table. When he did, she was already in a bag, ready to go to the funeral home.
“Moving quick, Doc?” Honor asked.
Those would be transporting duds, and that said it all. Either Bodhi couldn’t bear to have her in the morgue, or he was on a time crunch.
He explained.
“Lucian called not five minutes before you came in. He’s arranged for her transportation to the funeral home. He said he’s handling it for Ridge.”
Neither of them was surprised.
That sounded about right. Since they knew Ridge would want to see her, like he’d said, Lucian would want her cleaned up, and…repaired.
As much as she could be.
Lucian was a take-charge kind of a man, and protecting Ridge was about to be his other pastime for the long term.
Call it a hunch.
Because Bishop was the other.
“Yeah, he’s not doing well, so I’m not shocked,” Bishop admitted. “Ridge is on the cusp of hiding for a long time. Whatever my husband said, do it.”
Well, that had been the plan. If anything, Lucian could be very convincing. He had not been required to be, but if push came to shove, he’d steamroll a dude to make shit happen.
When he reached for the zipper, he glanced over at his other friends.
“Ready?”
They both weren’t, but they needed to mark this off of their list of things to do today. Getting the shittiest part over would make the rest of the day less hellish.
Or so they hoped.
Well, until later, when they had to face Ridge again.
The bottom line was that goodbyes were important when it came to losing someone you loved.
When they nodded, he undid the transport bag.
Inside, Wynter was there, and it was clear Bodhi took care of her. She was cleaned up, and he’d placed her head in a way that family wouldn’t see the big gaping hole toward the back at the top of her skull.
“Oh, Wyn,” Bishop said, pulling tissues from her pocket.
Honor did the same thing, as they were faced down by the loss of a very good friend. The mourning came in waves between the desire to get her justice and to make this asshole pay.
This sucked all around.
Here, she’d just been living her life as a wife, mother, and friend, and because of this, she’d been taken. She’d been innocent and picked solely because of her tie to Ridge, and his to Lucian.
That sucked.
Lovingly, they each took a hand, and held it while Bodhi backed up to give them some time.