Only, it wasn’t the first time.
Or the second.
Yeah, that said it all.
This whole case was a nightmare, and my, how the mighty rule followers had fallen.
From here on out, Chris was never busting Zane’s ass again about speculating. What he was doing was far worse, and he knew it.
As a Fed, he couldn’t believe that he was deleting actual evidence.
Holy.
Hell’s.
Bells.
Heading out of the morgue, Saint was waiting for him to escort him.
“You good, Doc?” he asked.
He laughed like a lunatic, because he truthfully felt like one tonight. Everything was blowing up around them, and for the life of him, Chris didn’t know how to keep their family, and their careers intact.
It was all riding on Elizabeth, and he couldn’t imagine the weight that was on her shoulders.
“No, I’m not good. I’m a man on the edge,” he admitted. “This piece of shit is destroying my family and our careers.”
Saint patted him on the back.
“We’ll all get through this, Doc. Hang in there. We have all of you. No matter what, trust in us. We’ll keep you safe.”
Oh, well, he hoped they did, but now, he was even beginning to wonder if this was what broke the Blackhawks forever.
Because it had the propensity to do just that.
Unfortunately.
The ride in the elevator was silent, and that was because he wasn’t sure how to do this. How exactly did you tell your person that you had their father’s skull on a tray, the father you buried years ago? Or that he’d been defiled by a psycho?
Oh, this was going to be a wild one.
He.
Could.
Tell.
At her door, he saw that the caution tape was gone, and his wife likely was in there thinking about Vivian, too. She’d died in there, and none of them could help her.
It was one more punch his wife had to take now as she used her office.
This dude was a douchebag for defiling their work spaced too.
For.
Sure.
To get this over with, Chris knocked and held his breath. Honestly, he hoped she wasn’t sleeping. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt her few precious moments of downtime.
