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Chapter One
It was only after the third day that I started to feel it— that thing tugging at my bones. I didn’t sleep anymore. I wasn’t sure I had ever slept before, but I knew I didn’t sleep anymore. As I relaxed in the sunlight, I tried to remember what time it was, what day it was. I knew I was meeting him, but as the sunlight warmed frozen skin, even that was becoming harder to hold on to. Sitting in the park, all I could do was count the hours since I last slept. And then, all I could do was count the days since everything went wrong.
I just want to go home.
I just want to go back.
The dreams kept me upright in the dark, but it was the cigarettes that kept me moving during daylight. There wasn’t a part of me that hadn’t been littered with burns of the god damn things— singed flesh the only thing that could wake me up when I fell into those twisted memories. Another sharp inhale brought me forward, and I tried to focus on the world around me. Carefully curated wardrobes only kept me hidden for so long, and by the time the Sedan finally pulled along the side of the park, I was sure every paranoid mother within a three-block radius had snapped a picture of me.
I didn’t wait.
Not for anyone.
A long gait allowed me to cross the park within seconds. I slid into the passenger seat without bothering to ditch the smoke in my mouth— a fact that left Omar grunting beside me. The dark-skinned man powered down my window, a narrowed look urging me to flick the cigarette we both knew I’d never abandon. When I’d met him five years ago, when we first started working together, he’d only been a beat cop. Years on the force had taken its toll, though. Still muscular, the rank of detective had put a gut on the officer, but Omar didn’t seem to mind.
The only thing I liked about Omar was he never seemed to mind.
The man wouldn’t speak until my fingers jutted out for the AC controls, and even then it was only to snap at the hand that fed him. “You’re wasting gas,” Omar noted.
“Since when did you give a shit?” The snarl came with a breath of smoke, an inhale of poison. Settling back into my seat became impossible once I noticed the attention our little meeting had brought, and I adjusted my ball cap. “You have five minutes.”
His annoyance was short lived. The man settled with a growl of frustration, and together, we looked forward. It was a routine we’d become accustomed to. It was a routine, I was certain, Omar hated just as much as I did, but it was the only constant I had left. For five years I’d been helping him climb the ladder— an arrangement that only started when he caught me carrying in a raid. With a complicated history with local gangs, it was an offer I’d had a dozen times before. Feed the police information and get my charges reduced. I laughed in every other cop’s face, but the rookie offered me something new.
Money.
Companionship.
Memories of the life I’d forgotten.
He reminded me ofher, and I wouldn’t let that slip away twice.
“Chief’s been up my ass all afternoon,” Omar finally breathed. “If you’ve got anything, Mick, I need to know.”
“If I had anything on the prick, I would have called you.”
We’d been working the Bayside B&E case for the better part of three months. The entire mess started with a burglary— one that only caught Omar’s attention because no high-value items had been hocked. Then, two weeks later, another break and enter occurred while the homeowners were asleep in bed. It would take four more incidents for BBE to turn from trophy collecting to slaughter. Two weeks ago, Samantha Laundry told police someone had broken into her home, tied her with nylon rope, and left her to bleed out on her carpet. So far, Laundry was the only living victim of BBE. For the past three weeks, it had been her pictures that kept me up the most.
If Omar could crack the case, he’d go down a hero, and I was his shot at getting there.
“I can’t wait another two weeks. This kid’s hitting places every couple days, Mick.”
“Then go fucking look for him,” I hissed. “You think I need this shit?”
The snarl in my chest only loosened its grip when my head snapped to the side. When the man’s head remained trained forward, my stomach knotted. I forced myself back into my seat. Another breath of smoke brought me off the ledge. After five years in the dark, I was beginning to think I knew Omar better than anyone.
Not anyone.
Not better than Samantha Laundry.
He’d been fucking her, hadn’t he?
“Cut the bullshit. Tell me what you really want.”
The snarl brought an embarrassed chuckle, another rush of fear through hollow bones. He was nervous about something— a reaction I’d only seen in the eternal optimist once before.
“Your name keeps coming up downtown. Some kid named Josh Warren.” Even with his eyes on me, I kept my gaze ahead. “That name mean anything to you, Mick?”
I wouldn’t blink— I knew better than that. My stomach knotted with memories of blood-soaked knuckles, of strangled cries for peace, of broken bones and broken promises. Her face would come next, but I knew better. I wouldn’t blink.
