Chapter 8
THE ONE HE COULDN’T TOUCH
Graham
The emotional hangover will be fucking unbearable.
And don’t forget the fact that you will most likely have to see her again and again, until you find the fucker that wants her dead.
Fingering her won’t be enough to satisfy your need.
Hell, even fucking her won’t. The only thing that will solve it?
Making her yours again… claiming her… holding her tight, and never letting go.
You could try to do all the smooth talking and woo her over, but ultimately you—and your dick—will be on a dedicated mission to get back inside without having to play by her boyfriend’s rules.
But, right now you’re trapped. Stuck watching her boyfriend fuck her with that smug-ass grin on his face because he knew he set the rules, and he knew if you wanted to be with her you’d follow them.
You’re such an idiot, Locke.
The only way this was going to work was if I broke that motherfucking curse—or killed the bastard. Honestly, I’d vote for the second… it’d be easier… and shouldn’t involve unknown magical bullshitery to rock my world again.
God, I hated mornings.
Especially the ones that came after a not-so-great date.
Not saying I didn’t enjoy every goddamn second I was in her presence.
It just… wasn’t enough. That wall I built between us by leaving was strong, and I knew she did what she had to survive, but goddamn it, why’d she have to curse him?
Now we were stuck with a third wheel that probably couldn’t even change a tire, let alone put gas in his Bentley.
The gentle click from the captain’s office door followed by his footsteps into the room sent me back into reality.
“Mornin’, Locke,” he said, taking a long sip from a to-go cup—probably his third or fourth.
“Cap.”
“Welcome back. How you been?”
I felt my face transform into disgust. “God, you’re too cheery for… well, you. Did Kathy give you an extra good send off this morning?”
Nettles let out a chuckle and took another sip. “Always here with the jokes. I like it.”
I looked around the room. “What fucking universe did I fall into?”
“I figure we’ve been bumping heads long enough.” He pulled out a fresh toothpick and popped it into the corner of his mouth. “Time to start working together. Besides, I’ve been worried about you.”
I blinked at him, my brows pulling tight together. “The other day you were worried I was going to screw this up—cut the crap and get to the point.” I leaned back in the chair and adjusted my leg holster, acting like his antics weren’t fucking with me.
All these years, all the cases, and this man had never once asked me how I was. Suddenly we’re friends? I don’t think so. He wanted something.
“I know this isn’t your usual shift, but I figured you’d want to be here to go over this with me.” He set his coffee down and handed me a folder.
I opened it and was met with the face of another doppelg?nger, this one alive. Broken. But alive. Her face was basically crushed. Guy probably slammed it into the concrete when she fought back. But the resemblance was there. Uncanny. I hated every second.
Nettles leaned against the desk, arms crossed, watching me for a reaction.
“This is Mia Thompson. She was attacked last night. Bishop Warren found her on his walk home from the hospital. But something’s not adding up.
Bishop lives on the other side of town from where Mia was.
There was no reason for him to be there. ”
“It’s a crime to take a walk?”
“No. But I’d be beat after working late at the hospital and dealing with those kids’ parents—wouldn’t you?”
“Probably. But Bishop didn’t do it.”
“How do you know?”
My jaw tightened. “I know him. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. Not unless they deserved it.”
“Don’t play favorites, Locke.”
“I’m not.” I closed the folder and set it back on his desk. “I just know he didn’t do it.”
“Well, don’t scratch him off your list until you have another suspect.”
“Fine.” I shrugged.
“Mia is still at the hospital. I want you to go down there and talk to her. See if she remembers anything about this guy.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Then bring Mr. Warren in.” Nettles tapped the desk twice, like the conversation was over whether I liked it or not.
I forced a huff of disapproval. I hated that he didn’t believe me. Even after I was right with Portia. Even after all the other cases… I was still a loose cannon in his eyes.
The captain snapped his gaze to me. “Look, the only reason you’re on this case,” he said through clenched teeth, “is because you are so close. That is when you are your best—when you’re invested.
” He strode past me and opened the door.
“Don’t make me regret it. Oh, and the photographer will be here in two days to get your shot for the Christmas Jamboree signs going up around town. ”
And there it was. Proof I was no more than the body he wanted as the poster boy for Port Grey PD. God, he left a bitter taste in my mouth. If I didn’t need this job, and if the Jamboree didn’t benefit so many of the people I cared about—I’d be out.
“Is that really necessary?” I asked, pushing past him. “Everyone already knows I’m involved in the Jamboree. I have been every year.”
“But you left. People don’t know you’re back.
” He turned on his heel and folded his arms in front of himself.
“You think this town didn’t notice your absence?
Give yourself a little more credit than that.
We all care about you. Besides, seeing your…
bulging muscles… on display again will give the town something other than a serial killer to focus on. ”
“Well,” I breathed, “I’ll make sure to tell Santa you made me all warm and fuzzy inside.
” I made my way down the hall. I couldn’t believe him.
The only time he gave two shits about me was if I had something he wanted.
Of course he’d make me his best officer as long as I posed pretty for the camera or solved a case.
Fucking hypocrite.
At the hospital, it took me a minute to get over how much Mia looked like Maggie.
She was younger—only nineteen—but I had to actually pause at the door before going in.
The asshole beat the shit outta her. Her left eye was swollen shut, lip cut deep, and a sick greenish-purple over her entire face. It broke my heart.
“Mia?” I said softly, finally stepping into the darkened hospital room. “I’m Officer Graham Locke with Port—”
“I know who you are.” She winced and turned in her bed to face me. “You’re the only officer that takes up the whole doorway. Plus, you fucked my sister when she won you at the bachelor’s auction three years ago. I remember your walk.”
Oh, shit. This just got awkward really fast.
“Uh… caught me off guard there… how is Connie?”
“Vicki.”
“Ah, yeah… Vicki—that’s right.”
“I don’t know… working on her fourth baby daddy for all I know. I wouldn’t be surprised if little Jonas was yours.”
Jesus.
I sucked in a breath. “Definitely not.”
“What? You sterile?”
“No.” I shot her a look. “You can’t make babies with what we did.” I pulled out my memo pad and a pen. “I’m not here to talk about your sister, her children, baby daddies, or myself. I’m here to find out everything I can about the bastard who did that to your face.”
“Yeah, well…” She looked off toward the window.
Bringing it up triggered some kind of response—the kind that made your stomach turn sour and your heart beat a little faster. The report said he didn’t rape her, but at this point did it really matter? That shit still fucks with someone, even if you get away before he could.
“I don’t know anything about him,” she said. “I didn’t see his face—he was wearing a mask.”
“A mask? Can you describe it?”
“It was just a face. A white face. No expression, just white. I could see his eyes staring through the holes cut in the plastic. They just watched me. I don’t think he ever even blinked.”
“Do you know what color they were?”
“Um… brown… maybe… no dark blue… or green. I-I’m sorry. I can’t remember.” She covered her face with trembling hands.
“That’s okay. Was there anything else that stuck out to you?”
“I-I don’t know.” She brought her knees up to her chest under the covers. “I mean… he smelled good.”
“Okay, that’s good. Was it like body wash or cologne or—?”
“I think it was a cologne. It smelled fancy. Oh, and he had really nice shoes. Like dress shoes.”
“So he was dressed up?”
“I don’t know. But they had mud on them, and he had—had a longer coat… the kind with double buttons… like a trench coat… and maybe black leather gloves.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
Mia wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them tight. “Is this going to go on my permanent record?”
I looked up from my notepad. “He asked about… his permanent record?”
“No. Mine.”
I paused for a moment, knowing that my response could stop her from giving me the information I needed to catch this bastard.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Mia. He attacked you, right?”
“Yes, but about what he said…” She locked her eyes with mine. “I can’t let my parents know. They’ll cut me off.”
“You’re an adult. They won’t have access to anything you don’t want them to.”
“But if I press charges, when you catch him… they’ll know.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’ll be in the papers. The news.”
“Mia, if it means catching this asshole, I’ll do everything I can to keep whatever it is you’re hiding quiet.”
I knew she didn’t believe me, but I would. No matter what it was—even if it was illegal—if it meant keeping Maggie alive… I’d bury that secret for her.
After a moment of what I assumed was an internal conflict, she finally opened up.
“I made a few videos.” She looked up at me, ashamed. “Sexual… videos,” she said slowly.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of. You know who you’re talkin’ to, right?” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “Did someone force you to make them?”
“No.”
“Coerce you?”
“No. I did it on my own. I sent them to my boyfriend and that’s all.”
I blew out a breath. “What did the guy who took you say to you?”
“He said he liked what he saw in them. Said I reminded him of another girl. The one he couldn’t touch. That’s when he grabbed me.”
Mia’s face changed. She looked right through me now, like she was reliving it in color.
“He took my hair out of its bun and kept touching it, brushing it from my eyes, pulling it over one shoulder.” Her voice cracked.
“Then he followed it lower and lower, dragging the back of his hand down off my shoulder, over my breasts… until he reached my pussy.” Her lips quivered with every word.
Tears welled in her eyes. “I pushed him off, but he struck me and shoved me to the ground—hard. He pulled out a red ribbon and told me to stay still… I don’t know why, but I did what he said. ”
I watched as she rubbed her thumb over her bloody knuckles.
“I should have fought harder. They always tell you to never stop fighting.” Her grip tightened on the blanket. “But I was scared. I knew I looked like the other girls, but I didn’t think—” She sobbed into her hands, her body still shaking.
“Hey, it’s okay. Even if you did fight harder, he probably would have kept going. Guys like him, they feed off of the struggle. This isn’t your fault.”
She looked up at me, sniffled and wiped away her tears before starting again.
“Then he fixed my hair to one side again and tied the ribbon in it.” She grabbed her hair and put it over her shoulder, demonstrating.
“The first thing I’m doing when I get out of here is chopping it all off, maybe even dyeing it.
” She threw it back over her shoulder. “I just laid there, watching the boats float in the harbor while he started to unbutton my jeans. The ground was so cold it burned my skin. All I could think about was how if I died right then, the last thing I’d see were those boats bobbing like ducks on a pond.
It was oddly beautiful to see them in the moonlight like that.
I don’t know why, but it made me feel a little better.
Made me not want to fight—just let him get it over with, then I’d be at peace soon enough. ”
“You were dissociating,” I said.
“Maybe. But before he could get to my zipper, there were footsteps. The guy freaked out, ripped the ribbon from my hair and ran off. That’s when Bishop found me.”
“Thank you.” I tucked my notepad in my pocket. “If you think of anything else, you call me, okay?” I handed her my card. “Can I get you anything?”
She shook her head and went back to staring out the window. Now I knew why she couldn’t stop looking. Her view was of the harbor and all the remaining boats, like she said… bobbing like ducks.