Safeword (23 page)

“Are you insane?” she hissed, looking around to make sure Kittridge or anyone else wasn’t within earshot. “You’re pissed. I get it. I’m not a happy little beaver myself right now. But going into the lion’s den is the last thing you should consider. If you get mad and say something....”

“I have an appointment with a specific person in the press, and I could really use your help.”

A sly grin spread over her face. “The Walking Mouth?”

“The very same,” I confirmed, compressing my lips in disdain. “That bitch is going to give up her source if it kills me.”

“I very much doubt she’ll cave, but I’m not about to sit out of this conversation. Let’s go.”

In Myah’s car, she turned on the vent, letting the outside air in. It wasn’t exactly warm out, nor was it cold, but it freshened the interior and I took a big breath, savoring it. With a few terse instructions, I directed Myah to the diner where I’d agreed to meet Jan Aldrich, more than ready for a confrontation.

The Mouth wasn’t there when we arrived, so while we waited, Myah took out her iPhone and scrolled through some news apps, getting a read on public opinion of the release of Dennan’s photo. I ordered us coffee in to-go cups

“There are a lot of people who doubt that’s Alex Dennan, Gavin,” she said, reading. “Most of them think it’s a sensationalized story aimed at getting attention, though no one can figure out why we’d do such a thing.”

“We
didn’t
do such a thing,” I grouched.

“There are, um, a lot of people interested in your involvement with this. Gavin?”

“Hmm?” I took a sip of my coffee, staring intently at the door.

“I’d stay offline for the next several days if I were you.”

I snorted. “Like I have time for the internet right now.”

“Okay. Just sayin’. The PR department is going to have their hands full, that’s for sure.”

I decided I didn’t want to know. Just then, Jan Aldrich walked in, looking around. When she spied our booth, a smug smile crept across her face and she sauntered over, the vinyl creaking as she sat across from us.

“Finally ready to do that exclusive, Detective DeGrassi?”

“Like I’d give you shit after what you pulled this morning,” I snapped. “Who’s your source?”

“Now now,” she admonished. “I’m not about to tell you who gave me the inside scoop on your little picture party. Even if the source hadn’t asked me to keep it quiet, I would.” She raised a finger to the waitress passing by, who rolled her eyes but approached anyway, order pad in hand. After many questions about the origin of the beans and the organic status of the cream, Jan ordered some complicated coffee dessert drink and leveled her unflinching gaze at me. “You know, you could be a little more grateful.”

I stared, astonished at her audacity. “You think we should be
grateful?
What you did set our investigation back weeks. Because of you, this guy could strike again while we’re inundated with crackpot tips that have to be vetted. That blood will be on your hands.”

“I
helped
you, DeGrassi,” Aldrich hissed, jabbing a manicured finger into the tabletop for emphasis. “Because of my broadcast this morning, everybody will be on the lookout for your guy. He can’t show his face in public now without getting caught. No one’s going to die because he’ll be too afraid to leave whatever cave he’s hiding in, and if he does, he’ll be spotted before he can ask for the time of day.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Myah asked, incredulous. “Okay, let me explain something to you, Aldrich. You’ve put a spotlight on our little burg that the nation is tuning in to, and you’ve scared off the one guy who might be able to help us by painting him as the villain. That photo is of a man who could have vital information, and now he thinks we’re hunting him because he did it. We
don’t know
who did it. That’s the whole point of talking to this person. But you’re right, he won’t show his face without getting caught. So he just won’t show his face. Or worse, he’ll leave the area, and we’ll never know what help he could have been. Our perp’s got a screw loose and now that he’s started his vendetta, or whatever’s going on, he won’t stop. People will die because we won’t get to talk to the man in the photo. That’s on you.” Myah pointed in Jan’s face dramatically.

Jan, to her credit, didn’t even blink. Instead, she flipped open a notebook and pulled a pen from the wire coil. “So you think these killings are revenge for something?”

Unable to take any more, I yanked her notebook out from under her hand, the tip of her pen leaving a deep black groove across the paper. “This is completely off the record. We have no motive. We don’t know that our
person of interest
is responsible for these murders. We only needed to talk to him. Find out if he has any information from his acquaintance with the victims, or if he might have knowledge of their movements prior to their murders. Perhaps get some corroboration on his whereabouts. Unfortunately for us, we can’t pinpoint his location. Thus the appeal to the public. To help us find and
talk
to him. Because you’ve villainized him to the whole country, even if we can get in touch with him, he’ll be hostile and uncooperative. Meanwhile, whoever’s doing this will continue on their merry way, hurting people while Myah and I scramble to cover every potential lead that comes out of the fifty-three hundred calls we receive daily. So if you really want to help us? Give us your source so we can make sure no more damage is done. Otherwise, stay the fuck out of our way.”

Jan pursed her lips, jerking her notebook out of my hands and shoving it back in her bag. “My source stays anonymous. I don’t give a shit what you think of me, DeGrassi. I’m good at my job, and the people of this city need to know the truth. You’re not doing your jobs if three cops are dead and you have to go to the public for more information. It’s the same shoddy police work that got those boys killed in the Breath Play case.” I sucked in a breath, pain slicing through me at the recollection of the last of Damon Lane’s victims, two handsome young men who’d had their whole lives ahead of them. It was a low blow, and I narrowed my eyes as Aldrich went on. “Most people overlook your incompetence because you were a victim, too, but I can assure you, I’m not fooled. If I have to go around you to get the true story and make sure everyone knows you can’t solve shit without help or a billboard or a
news broadcast
to tell you who to search for? I will. I’ve broken no laws, so
you
can stay the fuck out of
my
way.”

She started to gather her things, but Myah’s hand shot out, grabbing her forearm in a punishing grip. “We tell the press what we do for the safety of the public, so if someone slips up in front of us, we can catch them at it. If the public knew all the details about what kind of world we live in, no one would live their lives. They’d be too afraid, knowing what’s out there, what we see every day, and we couldn’t do shit to stop it because we’re playing with our hand face up on the table, thanks to your noble work.” Myah sneered the last two words. “You remember that the next time your mouth opens on camera and you’re giving more information than the police tell you to.”

The Walking Mouth stood, yanking her handbag strap over her shoulder. Then she planted her palms on the table and leaned down, inches from Myah’s face. “Don’t be so sure it wasn’t one of your own who came to me with the same concerns I have for DeGrassi’s track record. Get a new partner, Hayes, or he’ll drag your career down with his.” The angry clack of her heels on linoleum faded as she exited.

Myah stared after her, shaking her head in awe and disgust. “I hate that she got the last word,” she lamented. “
And
we have to pay for her stupid coffee.” She slapped a few bills on the table and we walked through the muggy air to her car.

“Well, she did confirm our suspicions about the leak. ‘One of your own’ doesn’t sound like someone peripheral or administrative. I’d swear, if Trent had overheard me tell Bachman, I’d say it was him, but I don’t see how it could be.”

Myah sighed, pulling out into traffic. “Let’s just get some rest so we can do it all again tomorrow. Personally, I’m going home to climb the Cole Pole and die for about six hours.”

I made a disgusted face. “I don’t want to hear about my brother having sex. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a virgin and will stay that way, and if you ever have kids, I’m going to believe it’s immaculate conception. Don’t burst my deluded bubble.”

“What are BFFs without a little TMI?”

“Have you been hanging out on Twitter or something? You sound thirteen.” It may have been too dark in the car to see her blush, but there was no mistaking the sheepish look.

“I may or may not have joined a Facebook group about wedding planning to get some ideas before realizing the people on it are all valley girls who type only in text speak. I’ll admit nothing.”

I chuckled, suddenly feeling every bit of muscle ache and fatigue the day had pounded into me.

When I walked into the house, most of the horizontal surfaces held lit candles, and delectable smells wafted from the kitchen. Ben looked up from the counter where he was grating cheese and gave me the look I liked to think he reserved only for me. His eyes softened, and his shoulders relaxed, like my presence was the most important thing to him in that moment. Talk about a welcome home.

“What’s all this? Dinner at nine? Aren’t you starving?”

“I had a late lunch, so I decided to wait for you, make you something tasty that doesn’t come out of a box or in a wrapper.”

My eyes lit up. “Did you make me lasagna?” I rounded the counter for a kiss. “I taste tomato sauce. You did make me lasagna. I love you.”

He laughed, nodding. “It’ll be done in about ten minutes. Why don’t you go change, and I’ll pour the wine?”

I couldn’t resist pulling him to me, giving his ass a quick grope, then turning to the bedroom, shedding my suit jacket as I went.
There aren’t near enough nights like this.
I wondered briefly what it would be like if I had a job with regular hours, and we could have dinner together every night. After donning a pair of athletic shorts and a T-shirt, I joined Ben in the kitchen. He was just setting the steaming plates in front of our stools at the breakfast bar.

“That smells so good. Marry me.”

He chuckled. “Okay, but later. Dinner first.” Something in his voice caught my attention, but when I met his gaze questioningly, he gave nothing but a contented smile.

“I saw the broadcast this morning,” he said, taking a sip of wine. “I take it that wasn’t planned.”

I rolled my eyes, wiped my lips with a napkin, and filled him in on the events at the diner with The Walking Mouth. “I swear, it’s days like today that make me really done with people.”

Ben regarded me silently, as though he were weighing how much to say. He must have decided to change the subject, and I found myself oddly disappointed.

“Anyone get back to you about your car?”

“Generic doll, generic rope. No bump key attached this time, though, so the only link to the murders was a print matching the flogger keychain print, and the bump key on that souvenir was Stevenson’s.”

“They ask the neighbors what they might have seen?”

“No one saw or heard anything,” I said, frustration bleeding through. “This asshole can do as he pleases to me.”

Ben covered my hand with his. “He’ll have to go through me.”

I snorted in derision. “The last guy almost did, Ben, and it gutted me to witness. I just have to catch him.”

Ben’s hand remained on mine, squeezing. “There’s something I want to talk to you about anyway.” I raised a brow, curious at his deflection of the conversation. “Can you take a week off sometime soon?”

“When the case is done, sure. I didn’t use all my time before my leave kicked in. Why?”

He took a moment to speak, clearly not happy to be put off. “I want us to go away for a bit. Away from this house and its memories, away from our jobs.” He blew out a stress reducing breath. I realized then how long it had been since I’d asked about him, his career and well-being. Another nail in the coffin on my job hammered home. Every case, I’d neglect him, so wrapped in my own head it wouldn’t occur to me until I surfaced for air before the next case. This was unacceptable.

“Everything okay with you and Laura?” I didn’t dare ask about his patients. Off-limits.

“Yeah, Laura’s great. I just need a break.”

The guilt evaporated, replaced with irritation. Suddenly, it was all so clear. “A break.” He nodded, resuming his meal. “Then why do you want me to go with you? Haven’t I been like a patient of yours for a long time now?” Even as I said it, I hated myself a little bit, but I knew what I was doing. I hadn’t lived with a shrink during my worst moments ever and learned nothing.

“No, Gavin,” he said, patronizingly patient. “You’re my partner. Who I love. Who I’m supposed to take vacations with.”

“Sounds like a burden,” I deadpanned.

The muscles in his jaw flexed as he stood, carried our half-finished plates to the sink, though we weren’t finished eating, and dumped the food down the garbage disposal. “Gavin, this is the last time I will say this. I am with you because I want to be. But if you can’t reign in the pity party, wanting to be with you won’t have the same appeal it has now. You’re not permanently broken, so stop using it as a crutch when you feel weak and impotent.”

Ah, good. Get angry.
“Pity party? Well, at least I talk about what’s bothering me. You just pull into your shell and stop talking totally.” He rounded the counter and stalked past me, wordlessly retreating yet again. I scoffed. “There ya go. Run off again. Hide.” I turned back to my wine glass and muttered under my breath. “Coward.”
See how he reacts to that.

I didn’t even know what hit me, going from sitting to slammed against the wall beside the breakfast bar, Ben’s fist buried in my shirt, his face less than an inch from mine. His eyes blazed, nostrils flared, chest heaving. His voice held all the menace I knew he needed to unleash, and I took it without flinching, even if I hated having it directed at me.

“A coward would have left you right after the attack rather than watch you suffer. A coward would have never had another scene with you. A coward would have bailed when you picked up another murder case where the victims are cops. A coward would have thrown you out after the flogger keychain and effigy this morning. I’m no coward. And I am not your emotional punching bag.”