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Sophie can tell when I’m having one of those days. She doesn’t push or force me to talk about it; rather, she’ll lay with me and just let me hold her. Nothing will ever convince me that Emma’s death wasn’t my fault. I failed to react to the signs. Even if she’d cried wolf so many times before, I should’ve known better than to leave her alone. She’d been going to therapy and group sessions, but she was damn good at putting on an act when she wanted to. That much I know, and she proved it time and again.
“What are you thinking?” Jada’s voice has me blinking away my thoughts, and I look up at her.
Clearing my throat, I set the files down on the table. “I was wondering if there had been signs, warnings. If they’d called anyone to tell them they loved them or sold off any of their items. The typical things you see in planned suicides like this.”
“According to Briggs…” She grabs one of the files from the pile and flips through a few pages. “He spoke with the daughter, and she seemed distraught but also not completely shocked. She’d been surprised he had a gun, but not that the father did it.”
I furrow my brows, thinking. “I wonder why that is. Why her father being the killer wouldn’t surprise her?”
“That’s not our job, Holt,” Jada warns as she always does. I want to dig into the nitty-gritty details, but our jobs are to process the scenes, establish the murder weapon, and help figure out the who. All the other stuff is unnecessary to solve the case. Even if it could help a family member find closure to know those details or just so I can sleep at night, it’s not our responsibility.
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble just to annoy her.
“So how’s that girlfriend of yours doing?” she asks, handing me the files so I can put them in the proper box.
“Amazing.” I smile, just thinking about Sophie. “Went to her fall concert last week and watching her play is always incredible. She’s so damn talented and special. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe she picked me.”
Jada gives me a pointed look and opens her mouth, probably to yell at me for putting myself down, but she must think better of it and doesn’t say a word.
A minute later, she asks, “Has Daddy Dearest met her yet?”
“Only a couple of brief times,” I tell her. “The most recent time, he showed up uninvited. They exchanged greetings, but that was about it.”
“And what about Serena?” She smirks, resting her hand on her hip. “Has she met Sophie?”
“A few times.” I snort but don’t get into that whole story of the two of them. “Why are you so curious, anyway? You want an invite or something?”
“Well, you talk about her so damn much, I feel like I know her. Plus, we spend a lot of time together at work, so maybe she wants to know who you’re spending your days with?” Jada arches a brow.
“I intentionally don’t talk about work much. Being home is my safe zone,” I explain. “Sophie listens when I need to vent, but otherwise, if I don’t bring it up, she doesn’t either.”
“From what you’ve told me, both of you have gone through some tough shit. Remember not to hold your feelings in, even if it’s hard to talk about. Trust me, I’m on my third marriage.”
I chuckle, shaking my head when she smirks at her own dig. “Third time’s the charm, huh?”
“Lord, I hope so. I’ve applied for marriage licenses and changed my last name so many times, the workers in the clerk’s office know me personally.” Her smirk widens.
“They probably run away screaming when they see you, knowing all the paperwork you’re about to make them file,” I tease, loading up the evidence box and putting the lid on top.
“Ha-ha.” Jada rolls her eyes. “Joking aside, I locked up my emotions, which is something we’re taught to do in this job. However, at home, you need to release them and let your partner in. If you’re having a crap day because of what you saw, then express it. Otherwise, they think it’s about them, and that’s when shit goes downhill.”
“I suppose you’re right,” I taunt, grabbing a Sharpie so I can label the box. “Sophie’s a great listener too. I know she’d be open to talking about work, but I just hate bringing negative energy home when being with her makes me so damn happy.”
“Yeah, you have that sick in love glow about you.” She circles a finger around her face to mock me.
“And I’m not even sorry about it.” I grin, taking the evidence and walking toward the exit. “I’m leaving after I put this away. Unless you need me to help you with anything else?” I press my back against the door, waiting.
