“No, you don’t.” I shook him off. “You have no idea.”
Jack looked tired. His tie was loose, hair wind-ruffled, sleeves rolled to his elbows like he couldn’t quite keep himself pulled together either.
“Listen,” he said, voice quieter now. “I’m on your side, Ava. But you can’t keep setting yourself on fire every time the system fails. It’s going to burn you up.”
I stared at him. “You think I don’t know that?” I whispered. “You think I haven’t already caught fire a dozen times?”
He exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not your enemy.”
“Then do something. Put that law degree to good use. Get him put away.”
“I’m trying. I will. You know I will. But you also know it's not my case, and my full-time job as a prosecutor keeps my plate full. They’re pulling me for higher-level caseloads. There’s talk of moving me to the city DA’s office.”
That stopped me.
Jack shifted his weight like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud yet. “I wasn’t going to bring it up. Not now.”
I folded my arms. “Remi know?”
He scoffed, “She told me to go.”
Then he shook his head, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “She always does what’s best for everyone else..." He paused and looked longingly at Remi. "Is it crazy that I want her to tell me to stay?”
I didn’t answer because we both knew that wasn't going to happen.
He followed Remi's line of sight... toward Dane, then at me again.
“I’ll keep doing everything I can. But don’t lose yourself in this fight, Ava. Not like this.”
I didn’t promise him anything.
Instead, I turned back to the room full of hypocritical mourners. To the wreckage we were all left holding.
“Too late,” I whispered. "You are all too late."
Then I walked away.
CHAPTER 10
HARLAN - THE ROT
The precinct had been quiet that morning.
I should’ve taken that as a warning.
Instead, I holed up in my office, a cup of stale coffee at my side and half a dozen open files spread across my desk like a crime scene of negligence.
I didn't even know what I was looking for. I just… needed to understand. Because lately, nothing made sense, and I had two trauma counsellors' voices echoing in my mind.
November had bled into December, and Dane Loring was still free. With the violence and chaos at the scene, I still didn't understand how no evidence was found. The killer was obviously enraged, chaotic... but they were careful enough not to leave a print, finger or boot...
It had been brought to my attention that the system we were working in, the one I was supposed to lead, was broken. I heard what they were saying. But it was hard to believe.
I liked rules, evidence, proof, and a path to follow. The fiery blonde and the older-than-her-years brunette were anything but that...
So, I dug.
Old domestic disturbance calls. Assault reports that went nowhere. Charges dropped. Victims recanted. Officers filed half-assed reports and walked away without a second thought.
