Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Exhaustion dragged Maggie down, making it difficult to put one foot in front of the other as she climbed the stairs to her apartment.
Naturally, the elevator was broken again and so she was stuck trudging up four flights just to get home.
By the time she reached the appropriate floor, she had forgotten her hunger and just wanted to collapse into bed for the next sixteen hours.
She shuffled the remaining distance to her front door and slotted the key into the hole. The lock turned and she jimmied the wooden door open. It caught on the carpet, but she’d gotten used to that and knew to lift so it didn’t scrape too badly.
A lazy feline trill greeted her, followed by a more insistent meow as her cat realized she was home and that meant it was time for his bowl to be filled.
Maggie sighed and dumped her purse and high heels onto the couch as she passed through the living room and into the tiny kitchen.
By now, the cat had found her and was rubbing against her legs, trying his damn best to trip her it seemed.
“Gremlin…” she grumbled at him fondly, but the cat only gazed expectantly up at her.
Won over by the white and orange beast’s wide, blue eyes, Maggie went to the cabinet and pulled out the container of dry food.
Not long later, the bowl had been topped off and the feline was munching happily, his human servant forgotten.
“You’re welcome, you bastard.” She shook her head and went to the fridge. It was then she realized she needed to go shopping and that most of the kitchen was barren.
“Fuck…”
There were stale donuts left in a box on the counter next to the stove and she decided this was the simplest answer to her hunger. Half way through her pathetic excuse for a meal, she realized she was out of milk. Maggie swore again, tossing the remainder of the pastry into the garbage.
Her gaze was drawn back to the cat, who now sat washing his paws and face.
“At least one of us is eating good around here,” she remarked to nobody in particular. She definitely wasn’t speaking to Gremlin, that would have been mental.
He blinked up at her, then turned with his tail in the air and wandered off.
Having given up on eating, Maggie left the kitchen as well. She wanted to get out of this dress, close all the curtains against the morning sun, and get some much needed rest.
She finally kicked off her loafers and started to undress on her way into the bedroom. The clothes landed in a pile on the floor, forgotten as she tugged a shirt on and slipped into the bathroom with the intention of brushing her teeth.
It was typical that on her one free night she’d been called into work. This happened often and she was beginning to think it was on purpose.
The universe was fucking with her and had been for the last four years.
It didn’t matter that she was sick of the shit or that she’d done everything in her power to keep her head down.
There were still those in the department who viewed her as a pariah and she really couldn’t blame them.
Getting caught having sex with your superior had a way of alienating people.
Despite wanting to blame her former lieutenant, Declan Cooper, she had owned her mistake, taken the hazing from her peers, transferred to another department, and even gone so far as to switch to the dreaded night shift.
None of it mattered. Her reputation as someone willing to sleep her way up the chain of command wouldn’t be so easily shaken.
Meanwhile, Declan had become captain and since gotten married.
The last she overheard, his new wife was already expecting their first child.
Maggie swallowed the envious bile that rose in her throat. She shouldn’t be comparing her life to somebody else, and yet here she was, letting her ex live rent free in her head.
“Fuck,” she swore again, running a hand through her loose hair as she tried to push the dark thoughts of the past away. It was better if she focused on the case anyway; and what of that odd priest she’d met?
To be honest, she’d turned down his help because it had taken her by surprise.
Why would a clergyman want to ride along with a cop?
It seemed like their professions weren’t compatible and yet he’d seemed so adamant.
Maybe she should consider letting him consult.
The least she could do was keep him in mind if his expertise was needed, but she doubted it.
“I don’t need a priest,” she whispered, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Maggie had gone to church as a child. She remembered Sunday school and learning about the various stories of the Bible, but she’d found little use for those things in her daily life.
She had learned long ago that putting your faith in anyone was foolish.
People in general weren’t trustworthy. They lied, cheated, and abused every chance they got.
Yeah, she went on dates, had even toyed with the idea of romance in her twenties, but it had become a necessary ritual to satiate her body’s needs and nothing more.
Love was foolhardy, dangerous, and not on her agenda.
Maggie stood staring at herself in the mirror.
She was wearing an oversized t-shirt with the Alaska State Fair design printed across the front.
It was old, from one of the years she’d gone as a teen with friends, and for a brief moment, sadness welled in her heart.
She couldn’t help but wondered what the priest and congregation must be feeling at the loss of Father Abrams.
“Father Anatoly,” she whispered, as though to speak his name might be to summon him forth. The sound of her own voice shook the clinging emotion away and with a frown she hardened herself.
The priesthood, she thought, had the right of it. It was better to be celibate and hide your heart away than to risk trusting it to another. Love was a waste of time, a frivolity that others might afford themselves, but Maggie found she didn’t need.
Her eyes fell to the lonely toothbrush in its holder and though her determination wavered at how sad it seemed, the detective knew without a doubt that she was better off alone.