36. Paxton

CHAPTER 36

Paxton

Six months later…

“Still at it, huh?” The chief leans against the partition, eyeing me with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

I glance up from the files spread across the desk and shrug. “Somebody had to miss something.” Desperation keeps me here. I need her back with me. I’m off duty, so he doesn’t care.

Last month marked the one-year anniversary since I dug Kali out of her grave. Every Tuesday night before I go home I pore over the case files, reexamining every detail, statement, and suspect’s interviews. Including mine. Each week, I wonder what’s being missed. When I compare Kali’s case to Shanna’s, you’d think we had a copycat or we’re dealing with two suspects.

Their cases are unique.

The makeshift coffins tell a twisted story. One meant for the person to survive, the other was not. Kali’s box had air being pumped in, Shanna’s did not. The construction of the coffins differed as well. Screws, wood, and the process, all different. But both cases were meticulous, not leaving any prints. Not even a partial.

Both were buried in remote spots, far from a lot of traffic and cameras. At least I know that Kali being buried close to me was just a coincidence. But why keep her alive and not Shanna?

I run my hands through my hair, a headache beginning to throb at the base of my skull. Are there two perps at play here or just one trying to throw us off? He said there’d be three, so why hasn’t he done it again? Was he truly doing it to get Kali’s attention? Was she right to leave?

There’s always the one question I get stuck on that has nothing to do with the case; will Kali ever come back to me? We haven’t talked since right after they found Shanna. I texted her Happy Birthday and got back a simple “thank you” in response. That pissed me off. I deserve more than a fucking thank you. I called Grams after that message, at a loss. Maybe her wise wisdom had some insight.

“Paxton, honey. You said she’s your future wife. If that’s true, why would you give up on her?

“I fu…” I dial back my anger reminding myself who I’m talking to. “I didn’t give up on her. She. Left. Me.”

“You told me she asked you to go with her.”

“That was an impossible request. I’ve dedicated my life to being a K-9 officer. I can’t just get up and leave after working my ass off to get Riggs. If she loved me like she said she did, she would’ve found a way to be with me.”

And all I got was radio silence and a thank you text.

“I love her, Grams, but I don’t know if I can wait for her. It felt like Mom shutting down all over again. And then just…she just moved on.”

“I’m sorry you had to experience that. But every woman is not like your mother.”

“I can’t walk around with this brokenness inside me every day, Grams. I need to move forward.”

I need to move forward.

The throbbing in my head refuses to stop, so I lean back in the chair and close my eyes, pressing my fingers into my temples. Why am I putting my life on hold for someone who has moved on?

For someone who can’t even live here.

I’m done trying. Six months, and I’ve memorized every word in that damn file. I’m no closer to solving the case than on day one. I slam the file shut and march it back to the records room. A sharp ache settles in my heart. One that has been threatening for months, but I’ve pushed it back with hope. Hope she would see being with me is better than running.

She chose to run.

And now the stabbing pain is the icing on the fucking migraine cake.

“You know what you need?” Liam says.

“Do not tell me pussy,” I retort, throwing back another shot of tequila and slamming the empty glass on the table. “Because I might actually punch you in the nose.”

After last night’s decision to move on, I called Liam and told him I needed to get trashed. He’s taking his job seriously, flagging down the bartender so she knows that my hand should never be without a drink. The only rule I had was that I was not looking for a hookup.

“That’s not what I was going to say, jackass,” he snaps back.

I stare at him, waiting for his bright idea.

“You need closure.”

“I think not talking to her for six months is enough closure.”

He shakes his head. “Make her tell you it’s over because that screwed-up brain of yours won’t let you get pussy until it knows it’s over.”

“It’s over,” I insist.

“Bullshit. It’s in limbo. If it was over, you’d notice that table of women staring at us all night. Hell, you haven’t even looked at them once. And they’re all hot.”

Zero part of me wants to look over and see who he’s talking about. “The couple of times I’ve tried calling her, it always goes to voice mail. And if she wanted to talk, she would’ve called me back. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Listen, I’m not all about chasing women, but you seem to think this is the one for some weird reason.” I let out a bitter laugh. I thought she was the one. “Take a few days off and go see her. Figure out your shit so you can put this to rest because, for the love of God, I’m speaking for everyone in the office, we’re tired of you moping around the department.”

Damn, he acts like I’ve been bawling my eyes out daily since Kali left. I haven’t. Sure, I might be a bit more on edge, throwing myself into finishing the cabin renovations and looking at her case once a week, but I’m not moping.

But he has a point.

Ever since she left, I haven’t felt like myself. It’s that lingering hope that she’s coming back. He’s right, I need to end things officially. Before I can change my mind, I pull out my phone and hit Call when I find her number.

“I didn’t fucking mean right now,” Liam quips.

I shrug. No time like the present, but she doesn’t pick up. I hang up, frustrated that she’s ghosting me. How the hell am I supposed to cut the tie if she won’t even talk to me?

“I have a friend. He can track anyone down,” he offers, already calling a number. “Hey, Frank. I need a favor.”