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“I’ve been telling all of you—”
“What the fuck Michales!” the chief yells as he walks into the office, snatching up the photographs as he makes his rounds, “My office. Now.”
Trying not to tuck my tail between my legs, I follow him to the sound of the others mocking me like a child being sent to the principal’s office.
Stepping into his office, he slams the door behind me and throws the evidence across his desk before taking a seat.
“I ask, you answer,” he huffs. His eyes dart between me and the papers strewn across his desk. “Is this Edmund Parker?”
“Yes.” I nod.
“For the love of Christ, tell me you downloaded it from some self-posting pornography website,” he pauses. “Is that where it came from?”
“No, Chief,” he shakes his head as I answer. “I was following Samuel Millington, and—”
“Shut the fuck up. Right now,” he cuts me off and stands behind his desk. His palms flat on the splayed photos before him, his nostrils flare, visible even with his head hung low in defeat.
“You’re a fucking detective,” he snarls at me. “Not some vigilante bounty hunter. Evidence. Warrants. Laws. Fuck, Michales.”
“Chief. Iknowthey’re all guilty as sin. Each of—”
“It doesn’t matter what your gut says. It matters what the DA can prove in court. And you know damn well that your Peeping Tom video is not admissible. Anything you find from this video is the fruit of the poisonous tree.”
“Sir.” I rise from my chair and lean toward him over the desk. “These are evil fucking people. Someone has to stop them.”
“That someone isn’t going to be you.” He lifts his right hand from the desk and extends it to me, palm up. “Badge and gun.”
I hesitate for a moment, and he reiterates his demand with a more demanding tone, “Badge and gun. As of now, you’re on disciplinary leave and are lucky that I’m not arresting you.”
Tearing my badge from my belt, I angrily slap it into his waiting hand before pulling my gun from its holster. As I remove the clip, I let it fall to his desk and clear the barrel before slamming it on his desk.
“Stay away from them, Michales,” he barks as I head to the door of his office, slamming it behind me.
Fat fucking chance.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
GRANT
The gravel rocks crackle beneath my sneakers as I run the trail surrounding the estate.
I need to clear my fucking head.
My chest heaves as I push my pace, billowing out my anger and exertion.
She’s a fucking toy. A disposable fucking toy.
I push my pace, causing my chest to heave, billowing out my anger and exertion as images of Will enjoying Abigail’s body flash through my thoughts like a slideshow, shuffling with each tread of my feet.
His face between her thighs…
Hands gripping her hips…
The look on his face as he slid inside her.
Fuck!
