I didn’t think you could feel someone’s frustration via a text, but BJ’s next one proves me wrong.
4:15 PM– Alex, fuck! Call me before you do something you’ll regret.
That’s around the time Alex dropped me off at my apartment.
4:35 PM– You did it, didn’t you? You used the information. What the fuck were you thinking? Having her removed from her position won’t help.
5:35 PM– This won’t end well. No matter how well you spin it, this won’t end well.
6:35 PM– I thought you were about the department, not the glory?
7:35 PM– I tried, man. I really tried.
Clearly, Alex isn’t the only one who hit the bottle tonight. BJ’s next message is riddled with spelling errors.
8:35 PM– I should hadn in my badge now, save htem coming to serach for it.You should tell her, Alxe. She deserves to know.
Even heavily intoxicated, Brandon can tell right from wrong.
It’s a pity Alex can’t.
25
“Rae?”
You have no idea how hard that was to say. The burn in my throat is so horrific, even a three letter name is too much for me to handle. What the fuck is wrong with my throat? Did I swallow razor blades last night? And my head, it’s thumping even more now than it did when I was knocked unconscious.
My legs feel like dead weights when I swing them over the bed. I scan my bedroom, aware of where I am, but having no recollection of how I got here. The last I remember is entering Regan’s apartment. My god, our kiss. It was the best we’ve ever had. It tied me to my woman even more, ensuring the decision I made last night was a step in the right direction.
I shuffle across the wooden floorboards of my apartment like an old man who can’t bend his knees. I don’t know why I’m searching for Regan. A woman with an aura as strong as hers can’t hide in a crowd, much less a dingy, cramped apartment. I can still smell her scent lingering in the air, though, so she must have left some time in the last hour.
A groan rolls up my chest when I spot my phone sitting on the dining nook in my kitchen. It’s barely 6 AM.
Upon spotting no unread messages or emails, I log into my contacts and fire off a message to Regan.
Me:I’m sorry about last night. Must have eaten something bad. I’m going to go die in bed for a few more hours. If you don’t hear from me by lunch, call in the coroner.
I laugh before hitting send. It is an apologetic but fun message, kind of similar to how I’m feeling.
Although I won’t fully rest until Jay is behind bars, and Theresa is as far from Ravenshoe as possible, my eyelids aren’t giving me any other options. The instant my head hits my pillow, I crash for a solid ten hours.
* * *
My head is still thumping when I return to the land of the living, but it has nothing on the mad beat of my heart. Regan still hasn’t made contact. I have no missed calls or text messages. We generally communicate in person, so I could excuse poor technology skills as her lack of contact, but I know how fanatical she is about returning Isaac’s messages. If she’s not messing up the sheets with me, she’s rarely seen without her cell phone in her hand.
I scrub the sleep from my eyes as I dial Regan’s number for the fourth time today. It rings and rings and rings, but she fails to pick up. I leave a message before sending her another text. They’re similar to ones I’ve already sent.
Me:Call me as soon as you get this. I don’t think you should be alone right now.
My girl is strong, but she’s been through so much the past twenty-four hours, I’m sure she’s struggling to recognize herself.
* * *
I shower, dump my sweat-riddled clothes into the washing machine, then head to the kitchen for a strong, dark brew. Another thirty minutes have passed, and there are still no calls or messages from Regan, so I do what all desperate men do. I call in back up.
Brandon’s contact is as stifling as Regan’s. My calls go straight through to his voicemail, meaning he is either on another call or his phone is dead. I leave him a voicemail like I did on Regan’s phone, but my tone is more anxious now and slightly more panicked.
* * *
