The Ex File (Behind the Blue Line Series Book 1)

The Ex File

Behind the Blue Line Series

Alexis D. Craig

Published by Hot Ink Press

An Imprint of Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Publishing

This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

©Text Copyright 2015 Alexis D. Craig

Cover By:

Laura Hidalgo of BookFabulous Designs

Edited By:

Elizabeth A. Lance

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.

Dedication

For Lori W, my red-penned rabbit’s foot

Retirement parties and funerals have several things in common, the largest of which is they both resemble family reunions, only with infinitely more baggage. Ellie Gardner didn’t particularly enjoy heading to either, but did so out of duty and respect. It was the least she could do.

The party at the police union hall was in full swing by the time she snuck in the back door. Her plan was simple, drop her gift, hug her friends, pay her respects, and bolt. Thirty minutes, tops, at least in her mind. These kinds of things depressed her, even with the cash bar she was leaning against currently.

She’d changed out of her front desk aide clothes as soon as her shift had ended and was now comfortably ensconced in her ‘off-duty’ attire of a Clash t-shirt and jeans, both holdovers from her college days, and a new pair of black Chuck Taylors. If she was going to be emotionally uncomfortable, at least she didn’t have to worry about her appearance.

“Sweet tea vodka, two shots.” She smiled at the bartender and pushed a ten across the counter. She figured fortification was going to get her through the night, though not too much lest the pendulum swing wildly in the opposite direction. It wasn’t often that one of her former lovers was retiring, and was there with his new wife. Though they’d remained friends, the level of impending awkward had surpassed ‘thermonuclear’ the moment she’d opened the car door.

“Make that four,” a gruff and familiar voice behind her told the bartender as he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Hey stranger.”

Fuck.
Make that one ex-lover and one unrequited crush. “Hey, Sean.” She smiled over her shoulder and found herself immediately ensnared in the topaz blue eyes that still showed up in her dreams occasionally. Sean O’Leary was six feet, one inch of Irish devilry, in addition to the badge and gun. Black hair that he’d let grow down to his broad shoulders and a smile that inspired in her a desire to fling her panties at him. The old Jack Daniel’s t-shirt and the well-worn jeans were doing nothing to disabuse her of that notion, either. His hand trailed fire from her shoulder and down her arm before he sidled up to the bar on the stool next to her. Being his friend was hard, and being his best friend, for the short while she had been, had been damn near impossible.

He lightly tangled his fingers in her raven curls, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. Anyone else would have gotten cut for that level of familiarity. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair long.”

‘Long’ was a relative term. She’d let her hair grow a few inches beyond her normal pixie cut for the hell of it, and was still getting reacquainted with the ringlets. “Just trying something different.” Though the last time he’d seen it, she’d been damn near a dead ringer for Halle Berry.

This time he just touched one curl, rubbing it between his fingers. “Well I like it, it suits you.”

Ellie was grateful for the darkness of the bar as she felt her cheeks heat in pleasure at the compliment. God, she was pathetic…and damn, how long did it take to fill a shot glass? “Thanks. I’m liking the longer look on you, too.”

His laugh couldn’t be heard over the music as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, it’s been for work, and I just haven’t felt like getting it cut.” He surveyed the room, filled with uniforms and casual clothes pretty evenly, before turning back to her with a curious look. “I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me, but I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” It had only been three years since she and Sean had last spoken; since he’d been married and his wife was…not fond of Ellie was the politest way to say it. He slid twenty to the bartender and handed her back her ten.

Ellie gave her ten back to the bartender. “A donation,” she said with a small grin. She then took both her shots in quick succession before turning to face Sean fully. “Of course I’m here. Sarge is one of my favorite people on the planet, and besides,” she patted the expertly wrapped gift on the stool next to her, “his wife commissioned a piece from me.”

In her spare time, Ellie sometimes made shadow boxes for people, because she believed in keeping memories special, even if she wasn’t particularly prepared to revisit them herself.

Sean toasted her before tossing back his first shot. “And I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

She blushed again and nodded her thanks as another friend came over. Sean met her eyes with his in silent goodbye before pushing off the bar to evaporate into the crowd. Not that she followed his perfectly jeans-clad ass as he departed or anything. The next twenty minutes was a maze of hugs and small talk as she made her way to the gift table and the guest of honor.

Ellie was an expert at being cool under pressure, a work trait that played well at home, too. So as she spoke to Sarge and his bride of late, Meredith, anyone who didn’t know they used to date would have been none the wiser. Still, the façade was hard to maintain for a long period of time, so when Sean appeared at her side and excused her from their presence she was entirely grateful.

“What do you say we go someplace with cheaper drinks?” He didn’t even look at her as he steered her expertly toward the door.

“And more of them, I take it?” She said her goodbyes as politely as she could, given the speed at which she was borne through the crowd and into the cloud of smokers just outside the front doors of the bar.

His smile was slow and feral. “Well, naturally.”

* * *

Ellie followed the distinctive Challenger taillights across town in her little green Focus to this little gated enclave on the near-north side of Indianapolis. Her eyes caught on the leather band around his wrist as he reached out to key in the gate code. Black against his dark tan skin and glinting with the occasional silver rivet and an understated watch face. She’d bet money it was analog, she mused as she followed him through the whisper-quiet gate and past the various condos. She parked next to him and got out to survey her surroundings. It was surprisingly dark for still being in the city, and the quiet seemed to be a perk of paying home owners’ association dues.

“The pool’s behind my place, if you’re interested,” Sean said over the roof of his car. Without the crowd around them, the night gave his low, rough voice a velvety tone. Or perhaps it was just her ears, but either way, she had to reminder herself to behave, again.

She shook her head in confusion. “This isn’t your house. I’ve been to your house, and it’s over in Acton.” Yeah, it had been three years and only once, but her memory was as fine as it ever was.

He ran his fingers through his hair, the occasional streak of silver catching the moonlight. “A lot’s changed since I saw you last. Come on in and I’ll tell you all about it.”

She followed him past the covered carports and other people’s imported cars, listening to the chorus of night critters great and small. Anxiety from earlier in the evening had shifted to curiosity and mild wariness. Though she knew he wouldn’t do anything to her, with enough liquor, she couldn’t make the same promises.

Sean went through the practiced routine of checking his mail with one hand while unlocking the door.  He nodded inside the darkened condo. “Head on in, mind Guinness.”

Ellie looked at her friend askance as she preceded him into the apartment while he deactivated the alarm. The brushed nickel light fixtures on the walls and ceiling came up just enough to give the room a warm glow and to show off a sleekly modern place with a well-appointed kitchen. The open plan gave way to an expansive living room, the far wall of which was dominated by an impressive stone fireplace flanked by floor-to-ceiling French doors. It even had what appeared to be a proper English garden out back; at least it looked like it in the moonlight. “Wow, this is lovely.”

“Glad you approve.” He tossed his mail on the pass-through breakfast bar and headed into the kitchen. “Make you a drink?”

“That’d be great, thank you.” The walls were covered in medieval weaponry, displays of decorative and shiny violence stuck in time. She was so fascinated by a flail that she missed the step down into the recessed living room and landed—after ricocheting off a large mahogany armoire –on the unforgiving hardwood floor, just shy of the matching coffee table. A long-limbed red bloodhound was stretched out on the couch, looking at her with an amused eyebrow quirk and a slight ‘woof’ of laughter. “Thanks, ya mutt.”

Sean appeared with a hand out to help her up. “Maybe I should rethink that drink.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” After much grousing and a fair amount of dog rousting, she finally settled in the crook of his over-stuffed brown couch. “Your floor attacked me…and I think your dog laughed at me.”

From over the back of the couch, a conciliatory caipirinha appeared complete with lime wedges. “Sorry about that. Guinness has a very subtle sense of humor.”

The bloodhound looked not in the least bit apologetic as he stretched out on the floor beneath the coffee table. Sean came in with a drink of his own and the bottle of liquor.

“Understood,” she said as she sipped the cocktail. The burst of lime was followed by the hammer of the alcohol. It was beautiful. “So was I supposed to light this on fire first?”

“It’s not that strong.” Sean chuckled and set down his drink and the bottle of cachaça on coasters on the coffee table before heading over to the armoire. He put on a record and came back, flopping down on the couch, crossing his boots on the edge of the table.

“How’s your sister?” She remembered the sweet, beautiful girl with delicate, porcelain skin and the sad blue eyes that looked like Sean’s.

A quick grin ran across his lips and was gone almost as soon as it arrived. “Katie’s great. Fine. Happy, married a farmer out in Iowa. Raising pigs and pumping out kids like it’s her fulltime job.”

“Good for her. The Colonel like having grandkids?” She didn’t like asking about his father, but would have felt remiss if she didn’t check, at least superficially.

Josh snorted and muttered, “As much as the Colonel likes anything.”

Yikes, wrong turn on the conversational highway.
Dammit.
“And your brother?” she asked to keep the silence from pouncing on them.

He shrugged and stared out the window across the room. “Eh, Connor’s not too bad. Joined Army CID, seems happy.”

There was something she was missing, but he obviously wasn’t going to offer up the info on his own. “Your dad must be proud, having two cops in the family.”

Sean grunted and took a drink. “All Dad sees is the Army part.”

“I’m sorry.” He nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything. The estrangement from his family, most importantly his father, wasn’t new. It had been going on since at least the birth of his sister, which happened to coincide with the death of his mother. The icy chasm between Sean and his father was normal, and after a couple decades, unlikely to change. It was like he’d lost both his parents that day.

They actually had that in common, since her parents abandoned her when she was a newborn and she’d bounced around the foster care system until she left at eighteen. They used to joke that their similarities sucked, but it gave them a kind of shorthand with one another, a framework that no one else understood. Ellie sipped her drink as she concentrated on the music instead of the continuing dark path of her thoughts. “Mmm, Miles.”

“And Coltrane.” He raised his glass to toast her musical prowess, and the timely change in subject. “So how the hell you been?”

“Guess I won’t be driving anymore tonight,” she mused, mostly to herself, thinking that calling a cab if she needed a quick exit would be the most expedient path. Now, the important question: how to compress three years of life into a conversation… “Not too bad. Working, mostly. Learning to dance. Just carrying on day to day. You?” Somehow her explanation had managed to drain half the glass. Maybe she was more anxious than she first thought.

“Dancing, huh? That’s something I wouldn’t mind seeing.” Sean swirled his drink which had mysteriously disappeared about halfway, too. “It’s been… hmmm.” He reached for the bottle and held it up in her direction. She nodded and he poured for both of them. “It’s just been.”

Ellie wasn’t sure where to go with the conversation as the silence became the extra person in the room, dancing around them and between them to the jazz. It didn’t used to be like this, this trepidation, this unease. “So Guinness…” she started, feeling like it was the avenue least fraught with landmines. The dog lifted his head at the mention of his name.

The corner of his mouth tugged into a smile, possibly at gunpoint. “Yeah, he’s quite the character. Pia gave him to me for our anniversary a couple years ago as a puppy.”

Yeah, about those landmines
… She reached for bottle again to top off her drink, even though she really didn’t need it. “
Pia
,” she tried to make sure she didn’t sound like she was spitting, “she’s not home, I take it?” Out of self-preservation, Ellie looked over her shoulder to the doorway leading to the staircase upstairs. Last thing she needed was a concussion from being accosted by an angry wife, if not worse.

His smile took on an almost lethal edge as he shoved his bangs behind his ear. “I have no idea where the fuck she is, nor do I particularly care.”

Ellie looked at her glass to see if his tone had managed to frost its surface. “Oh.” She believed him when he said he didn’t care, but there was something else there, a rage she couldn’t remember seeing in him, and wasn’t sure she wanted to confront. “How long now?”