The man was retired now, but records showed he’d worked at Grady more than thirty years ago. Long enough to have been there when Vice’s mother was still alive.
I copied the name into a separate search and found an old address in Decatur.
For the first time all night, something inside me settled.
It wasn’t an answer, but it was a direction.
I reached for my gun and tucked it into my waistband before grabbing my keys. Sam had gone looking for the truth alone, and I’d already lost him because I let that happen.
Before leaving, I walked back into the bedroom and looked at the picture sitting on the nightstand. His smile hit me the same way it always did, except this time, I didn’t put the photo away.
“I’m gonna find the mothafuckas who did this to you,” I promised, my voice filled with much venom. “Then I’m gonna make sure they feel every second of what you left me with.”
I turned off the light and headed for the door.
Whoever killed Sam might’ve believed burying him would bury the truth too, but they didn’t know me well enough. I worked for Vice Blackwell for a reason. If there was a trail to follow, I’d find it. If there was a lie to uncover, I’d expose it. That’s what I did, and I was damn good at it.
12
MILAN RIVERS
By the time I made it through the first half of my shift, I was already counting down the hours until I could go home.
My new apartment still didn’t completely feel like home, but I was getting there. Most of my clothes were unpacked, my kitchen was finally starting to look like somebody actually lived here, and I only had a few boxes left sitting around. After everything that had happened at my old place, I hadn’t expected to feel comfortable anywhere this quickly, but the new building helped.
Security really was better. There was always somebody downstairs, cameras covered every floor, and nobody could get on the elevator without access. Vice still had his doubts, but for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe without looking over my shoulder every five seconds.
I was finishing up with one of my patients when Nia appeared in the doorway with a look on her face that immediately made me suspicious.
“What?”
“Nothing…”
I narrowed my eyes. “Then why are you standing there looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you know something.”
Her smile got wider. “You got a delivery.”
“A delivery?” My face frowned in confusion.
“Mm-hmm,” she sang.
I pulled off my gloves and tossed them into the trash before following her into the hallway. “What kind of delivery?”
“You’ll see…”
The second we reached the nurses’ station, I stopped.
A huge arrangement of pink and white roses sat on the counter. There had to be at least three dozen of them, maybe more, surrounded by enough greenery to make the whole thing look like it belonged at a wedding instead of my job.
Nia looked at me. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Who sent them?”
