“I do not.”
“You’re doing it now. How many more times do you have to be fed nonsensical bullshit before you admit how obsessed you are?”
“Is there a problem here, Detective Millett?” Calvin asked, standing behind us both just outside my office door.
Neil turned around. “No.”
Calvin slowly took his eyes off Neil and directed his gaze at me. “Come on.”
“The mermaid is here,” I pointed out.
Calvin didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. What I saw worried me.
The stress was back.
He’d been really wound up since Ricky’s. Okay, granted, I’m sure having to shoot a guy because your dumbass boyfriend was in danger probably didn’t sit well, but he was usually so sure of everything when he was at work. Work-mode meant Calvin was untouchable.
Except recently, I had reason to believe that was not the case. That his armor had finally become too heavy and he couldn’t breathe. God… how much worse had I made it? How could I have been so fucking stupid to not see that Calvin was finally losing his battle?
The look on his face… no one would know, but it was that same desperate and lost expression he got after coming down from a panic episode. That look of hopelessness Calvin always had about him as he recalled the faces of lives lost, of deaths he considered his fault.
“Never mind,” I said, brushing by Neil. “We’ll go. I’m not going to fight.”
Calvin swallowed painfully and nodded.
I shot a look over my shoulder at Neil as I left. The look of contempt on his face made my stomach roll.
CHAPTER TEN
POP ANDI ate Indian takeout for dinner.
He didn’t know what he wanted to cook, and I was lying facedown on the couch, being a completely useless shit.
“So what’s up?” Pop asked as we sat at the table, finishing our food.
“The ceiling, the sky, the clouds….”
“And what else?”
I frowned and stopped pushing the last of my rice around. “Can I put on music? I’ve got a hankering for some Ella.” I stood before Pop answered and went to the record player that was part of his entertainment system. I turned it on before plucking one of the Ella Fitzgerald records from my dad’s collection.
“Sebastian?” He turned in his chair.
I glanced at Pop before putting the record on, gently setting the needle down, and then letting Ella’s perfect voice fill the room. I picked up the record sleeve and stared at her face. I never did have that rhythm she said I needed to give everything to.
“Kiddo,” Pop prodded again.
“Calvin’s not doing so well,” I answered, and as I said that, I felt like I was betraying him.
Pop set his napkin down and got to his feet. He walked across the room, took the record sleeve and set it aside, before guiding me over to the couch. He sighed as he sat down beside me, knees cracking. “Did something happen?”
I guess I couldn’t exactly tell him the shit that I did without Pop wanting to ground me from leaving the house like I were fourteen again.
I shrugged. “It’s just… I think his partner is worried about him. He’s been working hard lately, and I assumed it was some big cases, but she said they’ve been working on cold cases.”
“Those are still important, though, aren’t they?”
“Sure, but—” I looked down at my hands. I was gripping them hard without noticing. “He had one of his episodes at a diner, a few days ago. And I had to sit in the bathroom with him while he cried.” I felt my own eyes begin to tear up. “Dad,” I whispered, and it was hard to talk. “I’m more worried about him than anything. He’s so stressed out from work, and I don’t know why he’s killing himself over it.”
