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My first stop after leaving my apartment is Baldwin Avenue. I pause outside the row of brownstones and survey his front window. The light’s on.
Someone’s home.
Nerves ripple in my stomach as I tap my knuckles on the door. A dog barks from the other side. The TV mutes and the dog’s are shushed.
I stand still and wait, peering up at the peephole. I’m sure he’s checking to see who’s knocked.
Detective Maloney answers the door in his undershirt, clutching a can of beer. It seems to take him another second to realize he’s not wearing a proper shirt. I divert my gaze and pretend I haven’t noticed.
“Sorry to bother you so late. I… I was hoping to speak to you. It’s about the Keys investigation.”
“Ms. Hendrix, it is after eight p.m. This is my private residence. I’m not even sure how you found me here, but this is inappropriate—”
“I might have useful info. About MaximillionandFyodor Kreed.”
That does the trick. He peers at me cockeyed before caving and opening the door.
“Come in. Mind the dog. He bites.”
I step inside his home to clutter overload. I’m far from the neatest person. My room’s often a mess, with clothes strewn everywhere and the bed unmade.
But Detective Maloney easily takes the crown. He has two living room sets squeezed into the room. Two big screen TVs. Large plastic containers stacked up to the ceiling, and an assortment of black trash bags gathered in a corner.
The dog he’s warned me about is a German Shepherd who glares at me from one of two dog beds reserved for him.
Even the smell of the home seems to be doubled—potpourri notes of lemon zest and thyme clashing with warm, masculine smoke.
My face must reveal how I feel about my surroundings. He walks past me with a gruff chuckle.
“It confuses everybody. I just got married last month. Me and the missus are, uh, having some issues deciding on who’s what to keep. We’re both stubborn as mules, so you can see where that’s got us—two of everything. On the plus side, I have two TVs to watch sports on. On the downside, I keep hitting my damn knee on everything ’cuz it’s so crowded in here.”
“Right,” I answer, standing uncertainly in the middle of the room. “Are we alone?”
“We are. The missus is an RN at Easton General. She’s on nights this week.”
“Then if you have a moment, maybe we can discuss the case.”
“I’ve discussed the case with you, Ms. Hendrix. You already know what I’m allowed to divulge. We left off requesting that provide what you know.”
I draw in a breath, trying to sort out my words.
Maybe I didn’t give this enough thought.
I hadn’t originally intended on doing what I did with Kaden. After Celeste visited my apartment, I had been conflicted on how to move forward. The woman was unstable. Her visit felt ominous and threatening. She offered to tell me the truth about him.
But how could I trust a woman that had invented a fake relationship?
Celeste wasn’t my friend. She wasn’t out to help me in any way. Though I knew little of her, it was clear she saw me as a threat for Kaden’s affections.
When I called him, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do; when he showed up in my apartment and things heated up, I still wasn’t sure.
Did I trust him, or was I going to listen to what everyone else around me seemed to be saying?
“Well, Ms. Hendrix?” Detective Maloney asks with his bushy brows raised.
I bring a hand up to my forehead and tune out my intense migraine and rampant thoughts about Kaden. I’ve already made up my mind.
There’s no turning back.
