Chapter Nine #2
He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
My phone rang and I looked down to see Sal’s name pop up. Tommy smirked as he headed to his car and I went to mine.
“Garrick,” I replied.
“I’m doing the rounds because I need to make sure you aren’t burying yourself further than you can dig yourself out.”
Shit.
“What are you talking about?”
“The cameras in the evidence room were fixed two weeks ago,” she said, and a cool, sharp sensation shot down my spine, realizing why she was calling me.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Why’d you take the fingerprints?” she asked me.
“I know who it was, and I know why she did it. She’s an innocent woman, Sal, she just let her emotions get the best of her.”
“Tell me.”
I relayed what I knew, minus the information about Maurelle, to Sal. She sighed deeply and I heard the sound of screeching coming from the other line.
“What the fuck was that?”
“I deleted the tape,” she said, sealing her own fate with mine. “No one needs to know. That fucker had it coming. Cold case it.”
“I would if Tommy didn’t suddenly want to start being a good detective,” I told her.
She sighed. “Give him the case that just came in. He can get lost in that murder case while you figure out how to cover your dumb ass.”
“What case? I haven’t been told anything.”
“O’Leary knew you were doing a notification, he held onto it,” she said. “Get your ass back here and flip it over to Tommy. Then you and I are going to need to chat.”
I groaned, knowing full well she would go into protective mother mode and I’d be forced to admit what I’d done with Maurelle.
I hung up and sped my way back to the precinct, hoping like hell I’d get there first. My mind reeled over the events since we picked up the case of Oliver Benoit-Clayton. Months, it had been over six months since that happened, and I was no closer to Maurelle than I was then.
I drove into my spot in the garage and found that Tommy wasn’t here yet. Racing up the stairs to go see Sal, I saw O’Leary heading out. He flagged me down.
“Cap?”
“New case has come in,” he told me. “Sal told me to give it to Tommy, she has some info on one of your coldies. Want me to tell her where to stick it?”
I chuckled. “No, I don’t think you want that kind of heat, sir. I’ll go see what she has. Tommy can handle it.”
“Good,” he said, moving off to join his friends at the elevator. I headed down the hall toward the CSI offices and located Sal behind a computer entering in some data. The office was empty, her assistants probably out at the new case.
“Sal.”
She turned her face to me and I saw the annoyance there already.
“Spill it.”
“Where’s the goon squad?” I asked, looking around.
“At the new scene.”
“What do you know?” I asked, trying to avoid the question I knew I was going to have to answer soon enough.
“Man in his fifties, upper crust of society, likely poisoning related.”
“Poisoning?”
“Yes, just like the one from Bentley.”
Fuck.
Could she have struck again?
Oliver was the one from Bentley.
“You sure Tommy can handle that one?”
“Yes, and I know you do too, what the hell has gotten into you lately?” she asked me.
“We can’t talk here,” I told her. “Meet me at Pesci’s.”
She nodded. “Okay. Be there in ten.”
I walked out of the office and down to the elevator that would take me to the ground level where I could cross the street and into the best damn sandwich place this city has. I walked through the doors and heard a roar of approval from the owner, Dan.
“The usual, Danny,” I said. “Sal’s heading over too, so throw one together for her.”
“It’s been an age since I saw you, my friend,” he said, his thick Italian accent heavy in the air. “What keeps you so busy you can’t come and feast?”
“The city has its fair share of crime, Danny boy,” I said. “I’ve been drooling for one of your cheesesteaks for a few weeks now.”
“Nothing should come in the way of a man and his food,” he said, grabbing the tongs. “You remember that, uh?”
I agreed and took my seat at the table closest to the corner.
It had a nice view of the precinct doors so I could tell when one of us would grace the shop with our presence.
Sal was a good friend. I could trust her, and I knew it.
She’d done her fair share of protecting me for a long time.
I had to tell her about what happened with Maurelle and the way I was feeling.
Then, I was going to need a very strong drink.
Maurelle
I watched eagerly, waiting for him to show up at the crime scene, but only his partner showed his face. Eager little twerp was taking charge. I wanted Kane to see what I’d done. It was because of him that I’d chosen the man to kill.
No one came after my little girl.
I was torn. I didn’t quite know if I wanted to see him because I wanted to show him he couldn’t fuck with me and my family, or if I wanted to see him purely because I wanted to see him.
Goddamn him.
I’d never felt this way about anyone, much less a cop. He could ruin everything for me. I knew he was dedicated to his job, and torn up about what we’d done, not that I’d given him much of a choice.
Sweet memories of what I did to him in that hotel room flooded my mind, and I relished every delicious moment of it.
I loved the way he tasted, the way his cock fit perfectly inside of me, stretching me with his girth.
The way his skin felt as I sliced my nails down, blood pooling in their place.
He barely howled in pain, a little hiss told me he liked it just as much as I liked to see him bleed from what I had done.
In a perfect world, we’d be good together. He would be the Clyde to my Bonnie, but he was on the other side.
What if it had been him to save me from my childhood? For him to be the one I married and got away from that life.
Maybe things would be different.
Hell, I knew they would be. I found myself wanting to be different for him, for Camille. Aside from her, I felt things for him, and I hadn’t for anyone else in my life.
Goddamn him.
He wasn’t coming.
I couldn’t help but feel angry at that, and wanted to inflict hurt on him. Where was he? What was more important than what I’d left for him?
The radio chimed in with a news report of a death of wealthy Claude Delaponte.
My mind raced for Camille. Her adoptive father was a bastard, and if given the chance, I would have taken him out but she’d begged me not to.
Now he was dead. Murdered…and I wanted to know who the fuck had the good fortune to get that death on their plate.
That’s probably what he was working on. I put the pedal down and raced toward Camille’s house.
Even though he was a bastard and she hated him, I knew she’d be feeling worse for wear about it and I couldn’t have her feeling bad for that prick.
Kane
“You need help,” Sal’s words echoed through my mind as I made my way down the street to Paddy’s. “This is sick. You can’t let her get into your mind like this.”
It was sick.
I was falling for a woman I barely knew and for one who wouldn’t hesitate to take me out the closer I got.
But I found myself wanting to wake up to her scent. The thought of those violets made my dick hard and that was fucking sick in itself. How could I get hard over a fucking smell?
I headed inside, Craig giving me a nod of acknowledgement as I took a seat at the end of the bar.
The three oldies gave me a nod before they resumed talking.
Craig set a glass of whiskey down for me before he went back to his conversation with one of the other patrons.
I let the whiskey burn on its way down as I soaked in the words of warning from Sal.
She wouldn’t betray my trust, but I would if I were her. I couldn’t let her risk her career for me, because I knew she would.
I downed my drink and pushed the empty glass back to Craig’s side.
He came over, filled it and disappeared again.
I couldn’t get Maurelle’s face out of my mind, as I closed my eyes for a brief moment to relish in the amount of shit I’d done since I met her.
I’d never risked my career for anyone, much less a fucking criminal.
It didn’t matter how beautiful she was, or that she was doing it to men who fucking deserved it. She couldn’t keep killing men.
There was no way I could save her because I knew she’d never stop. She was what Stanley Dale had told me she was.
A fucking black widow.
She relished the kill too much.
“There you are,” I heard the familiar voice from beside me. I looked up just as my second whiskey disappeared down my throat to see Kemp standing there. His usual cocky grin was gone and replaced with a worried expression. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked him. “I told you two to leave me alone.”
Panic rose in me, because I knew she had eyes on me from time to time. I had to hope that Camille was right and she’d disappear from the city. I’d given them the heave ho to protect them and now this fucker was here, in public, talking to me.
“This isn’t like you. I miss my best friend, man,” he said, taking a seat on the stool. I looked around the pub to see if anyone I didn’t recognise as a cop was watching.
Nothing.
“I told you guys…I don’t want to see you. Not for a while. I need space.”
“I get you not wanting to see your ex-wife, I do, but me? I’ve been with you for ages. Come on, you weren’t pissed off when I married her, why now?”
I could have laughed at how ridiculous this was. I motioned for Craig to fill her up again, which he did, keeping an eye on Kemp and my interactions.
“You think I wasn’t pissed off that my best fucking friend married my ex-wife just months after we divorced?
” I replied. “Of course I was. I was furious and miserable. I acted like I was okay with it because I wanted her to be happy, and she seemed like she was. You gave her what she needed - attention and love. That’s something I could never do, not with my job. ”
Kemp sighed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”