RYAN
had parted, I stepped out onto the second floor of the police station and looked down the hall toward the detective bureau. It was late, and I had a hunch that Monica, never sensible about little pleasantries like sleeping and eating, would still be there. I hoped she was. I needed to apologize for not being the one to tell her that I was staying with the LGPD.
A door clicked behind me. I turned to see who it was and found Chief Wade Erickson leaving the executive suite, where he and the lieutenant had their offices.
I paused as he made his way toward the elevator and hooked a thumb on my duty belt. “Calling it a day, chief?” I asked.
“Yep. Nancy told me she’d throw the rest of the lasagna in the trash if I didn’t get home soon.”
I laughed. Then remembered Wade and Nancy had special company at their house. “Hey, how’s Tommy?” I hadn’t seen him in weeks.
Wade shrugged. “Grumpy. Impatient. Basically back to normal, in other words.” He laughed.
I smiled. “Glad to hear that. Hey, I don’t suppose Bailey Johnson’s dropped in to visit, has she?” The last time I’d spoken to her was the day of the bombing, when she’d called to tip me off to Jimmy Beacon’s intentions. For a while before that, I’d brought her to the hospital every day. It had seemed to mean a lot to her to be near Tommy, even if his speech was incoherent for days. I had held out hope that, between me and the captain, we could finally unlock her soul—maybe get her to admit that Bud Weber was abusing her. But as soon as Tommy woke up, she had abruptly terminated the visits. All my calls and texts after that had gone unanswered. I still had no idea what had gone wrong.
Wade shook his head. “I haven’t seen her.”
I chewed my cheek. “I’ll check on her.” She’d only broken the silence that once to warn me about Jimmy. I wasn’t the one who interviewed her afterwards. I was busy getting stitches for a ball bearing that nearly took out my noggin.
“While you’re at it,” said the Chief, “see if she knows anything about Weber’s previous lives.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, as if to prevent Weber himself from hearing. “Maybe talk to social services. See if there’s any way to get her into a different home. The longer she’s with Weber, the less I like it.”
I nodded somberly. I couldn’t agree more. In fact, I’d already done some research—and it wasn’t promising. According to state law, Weber could only be denied his foster home license if he were convicted of a crime. Still, I couldn’t help but think that social services would try to pull some strings for us, once they understood the kinds of offenses for which he was under investigation.
Wade checked his watch. “I’d better run before that lasagna hits the trash.”
I nodded. “Have a good night, Chief.”
The elevator bell dinged, and Wade stepped through the doors. A moment later, he was gone.
I puffed my cheeks, then turned my attention once again to the door to the Detective Bureau. Time to face the tiger. I continued down the hall and stopped to peek through the narrow glass pane. The lights were on, but the desks were empty—except for one. Monica stared into her monitor as if her scowl could force it to relinquish the answers she sought.
I couldn’t help but smile. No other woman had ever been that beautiful in my eyes. The tidy ribbon of her mahogany hair trailed down her back. Her brown eyes, almost black, were intense as storm clouds. Every feature of her face remained sharp and focused like an icebreaker, forcing immovable objects to shatter before her path.
There was much she kept close to her vest. I wanted to know it all. But if there was anything I had learned from Bill Gallagher, it was to respect her space—to simply stand by to support her. If she so chose, maybe one day she would trust me with the burdens of her heart.
And that trust started with my coming clean. Apologizing for not telling her right away that she was stuck with me—unless she decided to keep her promise and dump all our asses.
Butterflies in my chest, I pushed open the door.