AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Beating back the guilt for not having an answer, Chet shrugged. “She gave a statement then hung around. Brooke came and got her.”
Understanding lit Tucker’s eyes. As Chet’s best friend, he was privy to every detail of what had happened in Chet’s past. He also understood how difficult it was for Chet to open up—to dive into the pain of what had happened to his wife and child. Tucker didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he whistled, drawing Otto back to him, then whispered something in the dog’s ear.
Otto pressed his nose to the ground, sniffing every inch he covered with Tucker walking close behind.
Chet watched Otto head back up to the trail then disappear before facing Lincoln. “Now what?”
Lincoln sighed. “We have everyone on this that we can spare. Cruz talked to the medical examiner about rushing an autopsy. I’ve secured the scene and been over every square inch, which you can attest to since you’ve watched my every move. Go home. Check on Mia. She was pretty shaken and doesn’t have the same support system in place you do.”
Lifting his eyes to the cluster of green leaves overhead, Chet fisted his hands at his sides. Mia wasn’t his problem. He had a shitload of emotions brewing inside him—emotions he kept a tight lid on day in and day out in order to survive—and he couldn’t handle taking on someone else’s trauma. Not when his own nearly swallowed him alive. “She’s got Brooke.”
Lincoln leveled a hard stare his way. “And when she goes home tonight, scared and alone, she’ll have no one. You don’t need to be her best friend. Just let her know you’re around. Look out for her.”
Chet scowled, not needing to be told what to do by some guy he barely knew. He didn’t need to stop by Mia’s apartment for a chat for her to know he was around. The walls were so damn thin she’d know the minute he was home. Not to mention she despised him as much as he was annoyed by her. She was better off having Brooke look after her.
A loud howl carried through the air, straightening Chet’s spine.Otto. He took off at a sprint, his feet sticking to the hardening mud on the steep ravine. Weeds snaked up and grazed his jeans. Lincoln’s heavy footsteps fell behind him, but he didn’t spare him a glance as he traced the path Otto and Tucker had taken moments before.
“Over here,” Tucker yelled, waving an arm in the air. The black ink circling his bicep peeked out from his gray t-shirt. “Tread lightly.”
Chet changed directions, taking care to watch each step. Otto had led Tucker to a clearing in the woods, fifty yards or so from where the other officers fanned out. He kept his gaze latched on the giant black dog whose tail wagged and paws moved over unseen Earth. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck and the loud thud of his heart slamming against his breastbone blocked out the sound of the afternoon. “What is it?” He asked, halting a few yards away.
Tucker’s deep frown set him on edge. “Otto found another body. This spot isn’t just a random dumping ground. We’re standing in the middle of a freaking cemetery.”
3
The sun hung low in the sky, the full branches of the towering trees blocking out the retreating rays of warmth. A subtle breeze shifted the leaves and lifted the damp smell of unturned earth and fresh dirt to Chet’s spot on the porch. Dried sweat ringed his short-sleeved T-shirt, his flannel draped over the porch railing.
A half-filled glass of whiskey nestled in his palm as he watched the parade of people and vehicles deserting the field of horrors they’d spent all day uncovering—leaving behind a lifetime of broken dreams and empty graves. Six women had been found. Six lives cut short and left to rot. Six arms burned with the same symbol he was forced to see every single day.
The screen door squeaked beside him and grated on his nerves. How hard was it for Mia to grab some oil to put on the hinges? He could offer to do it, but he didn’t want her depending on him—asking him to help fix little problems in her apartment. He couldn’t be responsible for someone else. Not again.
Hesitant footsteps skittered on the worn planks. Mia stood in front of her door, huddled in an oversized hoodie to fight off the slight coolness. “What did they find?” She didn’t turn toward him when she spoke, but kept her attention fixed on the retreating barrage of police vehicles and unmarked cars.
“Four more bodies.” Fatigue and anger made his drawl more pronounced, his voice lower. “Six total.”
Mia faced him, alarm widening her brown eyes. “This can’t be happening.”
Lifting his glass to his lips, he took a sip of the potent liquor. He savored the warmth that blazed down his esophagus. That same thought had consumed him years before, leaving him numb and unable to deal with the world. “Bad shit happens all the time.”
Her jaw dropped for a beat before she snapped her mouth closed. “Not like this.” She waved a hand toward the taillights blazing down the road. “Not bodies being uncovered so close to my home. And those poor women. Did the police say anything about how long they’d been there?”
He shrugged and swirled the ice in his glass. “Wouldn’t say much.” His previous experience on the force made him aware that Lincoln and Cruz wouldn’t willingly tell him a lot about an ongoing investigation, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t hounded them until they’d finally forced him to leave. A bitter taste flooded his mouth, competing with the pungent aftertaste of the whiskey. Civilian or not, he needed to be a part of this case. He just had to figure out how.
Irritation twisted the delicate features of Mia’s face. “That seems to be an ongoing problem around here.”
He took another swig of whisky, weighing his words. But when none came, he simply shrugged and stared at the now quiet scene of the mountains.
“Am I that big of a pain in your ass that you can’t shed one ounce of compassion?” Her voice cracked and she raked a palm over her forehead. “I’m sorry if the world has hardened you so much that you can’t offer a kind word or pass me a tiny bit of information. But damnit, I’m a wreck and just need something. Anything to help me sleep tonight. To comfort me as I lay in bed and try my hardest to unsee everything from today.”
A humorless snort puffed from his nose. “I have no comfort to offer. No words to erase what happened today. If I had either, I’d give them.” Putting one foot in front of the other was hard enough, he didn’t have the energy to offer anything to anyone else.
“Do you hate me that much?” She asked, frowning.
The hurt in her tone was like a punch in the gut. He glanced up to meet her eyes, and the tears shimmering above her lashes fisted his throat. “I don’t hate you.”
Her dark brows dipped low, almost connecting at the narrow bridge of her nose. “Then tell me what I’m supposed to do. How I’m supposed to move on from this.”
He worked his jaw back and forth as he stared at her. Had someone told her about his family? “Why would I know the answers to that? What have people told you?”
