Chapter 11
Chloe had felt every single emotion possible in the past ten hours.
The fluttery belly flip at the sight of Tyler in front of the fire house.
The bolt of raw adrenaline when the all-call had sounded.
The chest full of absolute dread when Addison had made the connection to the fire and the forensics lab, then the fear overdose when Tyler had confirmed that the fire had done extensive damage, much of it likely irreversible.
All of it had balled up right in her belly, refusing to budge.
What if the DNA had been ruined? What if Leo Navarro got away with murder?
What if—and this one sent a shiver over her skin—he found out about Esme and tried to hurt her to keep it that way?
What if, what if, what ifwhatifwhatifWHATIF…
“Stop,” she whispered to the thoughts. Scraping for a deep breath, Chloe concentrated on the sunlight just barely beginning to peek past her curtains in an effort to calm her jangly mind. Facts. She needed facts to combat her building anxiety.
Okay, one: before she’d left the fire house last night, Ryan and Tyler had confirmed that there was no way of knowing the extent of the damage at the forensics lab until the RFD had done a thorough investigation of the scene.
Two, related: Addison had double-confirmed that the investigation had begun (good) but would take time (not so good).
Logically, Chloe knew there were a lot of steps involved in assessing how much damage the fire had caused and how much of that damage was irreparable.
She also knew the case was a big enough deal that the fire department had called both the Arson Investigation Unit and the RPD in to assist. What she didn’t know was the fate of Leo Navarro’s DNA kit.
But since Esme’s fate might depend on it?
She was damn sure going to find out.
Throwing the covers from her legs, Chloe got out of bed even though it was only questionably light outside.
As much as the possibility that the DNA kit had been destroyed terrified her, it wasn’t a certainty yet.
Even if it had—be tough. Be strong. Do not become feelings soup.
Do not become feelings soup. Do NOT—the Intelligence Unit, the A.D.A.
, and Child and Family Services would be on Esme’s side, just like Chloe.
She needed to breathe. To focus. To think and plan and handle this so she could act in Esme’s best interest, no matter what the investigation uncovered.
Which meant she needed answers, and she wasn’t going to find them in her apartment.
Padding down the hall to her kitchen, she put on a pot of coffee, took her daily anti-anxiety medication, and filled Gary’s bowl with dry food, even though the grumpy old cat was nowhere to be found, then made a beeline for the shower.
She’d always had a pretty efficient routine—between living in group homes and having four siblings, time and privacy in the bathroom had always come at a premium.
She skipped the jeans or shorts she’d normally choose for her day off, opting for a sleeveless white top and a pair of wide-legged navy-blue trousers that were comfortable enough to withstand the heat, but nice enough to get her taken seriously if she ended up in anyone’s office in search of intel.
Her hair got pulled together in a twist beside one ear, her feet nestled in a pair of cute but comfortable pointy-toed flats, and she grabbed two jumbo muffins out of her freezer and two travel mugs full of coffee before turning toward the door.
“I’m going out for a while. There’s food in your bowl,” Chloe called to the cat, who was still skulking about—under the comfy chair in the living room, if she had to guess.
Gary the Grump preferred to have the place to himself, anyway, but when she added, “Bye, Gar,” he poked his head out to give her an unblinking, one-eyed stare that was the cat equivalent of a pre-teen “whatever”.
“Good enough, buddy,” she said. She exited her apartment, her vigilance so reflexive, it might as well have been blinking or breathing.
Scan your surroundings. Make eye contact with anyone near you. No earbuds, cell phones, or other distractions. Know your surroundings. See danger coming. Always have an exit path.
Chloe let the routine soothe her as she made her way to her car, her control blanketing back into place.
Her trip took less than ten minutes since rush hour was still sleeping, all snug in its bed like normal, not-stressed-out people, and she headed to her destination armed with determination and baked goods.
“C’nIhelpyou?” came the sleep-laced voice over the intercom, and guilt punched her determination in the nose.
Shit. Of course, Addison wasn’t up yet. “Hi. It’s me. Chloe,” she added.
“Chloe? What are you doing here so early? Are you okay?” Addison asked, suddenly hyper-alert.
“Absolutely,” she said automatically, but then she bit her lip, backtracking. “I’m totally fine. I brought coffee and muffins.”
The buzzer sounded off loudly in response, allowing her entry to the building. Chloe arrived at Ryan and Addison’s apartment a minute later, the door swinging open before she could even knock.
“No offense, girly pop,” Addison said through a yawn, closing the door behind Chloe and flipping the deadbolt into place. Chloe had learned from the best. “But no one is ever ‘totally fine’ before seven a.m.”
Well, shit. “Technically, it’s seven-oh-two.”
Addison snorted. “People who try to skate by on technicalities? Also, never ‘totally fine’.”
“I’m not skating by on anything,” Chloe said, lightly so Addison wouldn’t call her on it. “But I’m sorry I woke you. I know you were up late. I should have called first.”
“Oh, sweetie, please. You had me at muffins. Come on in.”
A few minutes passed during which Chloe followed Addison to the breakfast nook in the kitchen, heating the muffins in the microwave and sipping from her own travel mug as her soon-to-be sister (none of that “in-law” crap for the Dempseys.
Family was family, end of sentence) chugged down some coffee.
“These would be better if we warmed them up in the oven,” Chloe warned, but Addison extended a hand, her fingers waving in a firm gimme that Chloe knew far better than to ignore.
“If something’s already perfect, you can’t make it better.” Addison took a bite of strawberry white chocolate chip muffin as she settled in beside Chloe on a bar stool. “You’ve been baking an awful lot lately, huh?”
From anyone else, it would have been a perfectly innocent observation. But that old saying about being able to take the cop out of the precinct but not the precinct out of the cop had Addison dead to rights, and shit. Shit. Chloe needed to proceed with extreme caution.
“It’s my job, Ad. I’m fine.” Because she knew she wouldn’t sell that completely after last night’s events, she added, “Just antsy about the fire. Any updates?”
Addison nodded, thankfully convinced. “Well, Tyler was right. This fire was pretty catastrophic. I did confirm that Navarro’s DNA kit was definitely being stored at that facility.
Before you ask, there’s no news on which kits were damaged, or how badly, although, I texted Sinclair while you were on your way up, just to be sure. ”
“Sinclair knows about the fire?” Chloe asked, and Addison took a long sip of coffee before confirming.
“I brought him up to speed last night before I crashed. Most of the unit is wrapping up an assault case this morning, but he’s going to pull Maxwell in so they can kick some rocks with the D.A.’s office and RFD brass. See what they can find out.”
“But it was definitely arson,” Chloe said, her pulse escalating.
Addison disguised her pause with a bite of her muffin. “You skipped some hurdles, there.”
“Oh, come on.” Chloe’s patience, already frayed, slipped further. “A ginormous fire breaks out at the facility where Leo Navarro’s DNA just so happens to be stored, creating a massive amount of damage, and you don’t think it was arson?”
“Is it possible? Yes, absolutely,” Addison said.
“But it’s also possible that this fire was an accident.
Or caused by negligence, or a faulty system of some kind.
And even if it was arson—which we don’t have any proof of yet—hundreds of DNA kits were stored at that facility, most of them associated with very bad individuals who wouldn’t be sad to see it destroyed.
We can’t prove that Navarro had anything to do with the fire. ”
Chloe knew Addison was making perfectly good sense. She trusted Addison, literally, with her life.
Yet, something deep in her belly made her balk. “Do you remember when Myles was stalking me?”
Addison’s blond brows winged upward. “Do you remember when you abruptly changed the subject in our conversation? What the heck does he have to do with any of this?”
“Just hear me out,” Chloe said, until finally, Addison responded.
“Yes. I remember when Myles was stalking you.”
Chloe’s throat tightened, but her words didn’t hitch.
“I saw him following me. I couldn’t prove it for a long time, but I knew he was out there.
It’s the exact same for Esme. She saw Navarro commit that murder, and even though she won’t admit it, she’s terrified.
So, yes, maybe I’m jumping to the worst-case scenario, and yes, I get that there’s due diligence ahead.
But my number one priority is this kid. If there’s a chance—even a microscopic one—that Navarro is ruthless enough to torch an entire building to destroy the evidence that he killed someone, I need to prepare for that so I can keep Esme safe. ”
Addison looked at her for a long beat before finally saying, “Okay.”
“Really?” Relief splashed through Chloe’s chest.