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“Nope. At this point, we’re going to have to shuffle some things around and make it work.” Devan searches my face and whatever he sees there has him nodding. “You good to let it go?”
I peel the gloves off and toss them toward a nearby bag of trash, ready to head out with our guys when they clean the scene. “Guess so. It kills me to let those freaks step in, though.”
“Make their day,” Devan agrees as he straightens.
He hates it just as much as I do.
“Okay, Jerry and Captain Jokes-a-Lot,” I call out loudly. “It’s all yours. We’re taking a pass.”
I touch Devan on the shoulder as I walk by and head back to the car.
The knot doesn’t loosen all the way back to where I parked, not when I slide into the driver’s seat and hold the steering wheel tight enough to crack it. Staring out the window.
A knock at the window has me jumping even when I see Devan’s familiar features. Obligingly I roll down the window and stare at him until he gets to the point.
“You know, chasing ghosts is going to get us killed one of these days.” He leans his forearm against the roof of the car. “I don’t know if I’ll always be there to have your back. Not that I plan to leave but just stating facts.”
“I know.” I blow out a breath and work hard on smiling, for both our sakes. “As long as you’re not telling me you want a new partner?”
I work harder still to try and hide my disappointment. Everyone I trust leaves eventually. It’s a fact of life. I should really accept it.
“No. There’s no one else I’d trust. But at the rate we’re going, we won’t make it much longer on the force.” Devan has the matter-of-fact tone of voice that lends itself to delivering bad news. There is no sugar-coating in those rich syllables, only truth. No matter how hard the truth might be to swallow. “We’re going to burn out before too long, L.”
He’s right. Devan is always right and he’s the only person in this world I care enough about to heed. Which makes him very dangerous for me.
Rather than get philosophical, and because we both have things to do, I salute him and throw the car into drive. I need to take the edge off, now, or I’ll lose it.
THREE
layla
The noiseof the city brings me nothing but peace.
Wide-plank pine beneath my ass provides a way to ground myself. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I stare out the window of my bedroom, the bed still disheveled and without a distraction by whatever his name was. Left to the quagmire of my own thoughts.
The open window lets in the sound of life. Shouting and laughter. Car horns and sirens. Barking dogs and screeching tires. From this vantage point, Empire Bay is nothing but buildings reaching into the grayish-peach heights of the sky above. There’s very little character since all of them are more than four and five stories. If I stand at the window and stare a few blocks over, I can make out the distinctive glow of a fast-food place, a couple of laundromats, and the corner store where I go for snacks.
I twirl my Glock 22 in my hand, its weight familiar. The handle gleams.
Another murder and another dead end. Devan isn’t wrong about our caseload. We’ve taken on more than we can really handle although we do our best, both of us driven by a deep-seated desire to help people and escape our own demons.
Except Ashcroft won’t let us off this one, and I know that no amount of wishful thinking will accomplish it.
Scoffing at myself, I reach for the bottle at my side and take a sip of the whiskey I’d picked up on the way home. Cheap whiskey helps with the grounding. Keeps me from lulling myself into a deep sleep with its flavor rough enough to sharpen my attention rather than soften it.
I cock the gun and unload the bullet in the chamber, the magazine only half full.
Another sip.
Count up to 100 and time me. I hear his voice in my head.
I cock the gun again and unload the next bullet.
I’ll be back before you’re done.
The whiskey burns.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I cock the gun a final time and click off the safety at the back of the pistol grip.
