Twelve

Dayton

My ears pricked for any sound, I looked around then slipped into a conference room with the file I had tucked under my arm. It was pathetically thin, but my ‘source' in Records had assured me this was everything. I knew it was true. I'd covertly followed the case for five years, though I wasn't supposed to come near it. Nothing had been added since a year after Melonie's death.

Not that I'd done anything to taint the case. I never touched any of the evidence, which was pitifully little at best, or any of the original reports. Just copies, like those a journalist would get using the freedom of information argument. Just call me Clark Kent without the alter ego.

Settling at the table, I opened the folder.

"Whatcha doin'?" Anderson asked, ignoring the closed door and poking her blonde head into the room, her long braid swinging in over her shoulder.

"I'm on my lunch break."

"Uh-huh. Whatcha doin'?" she repeated.

"Amber," I warned through my teeth, saying the first name that rarely passed my lips.

With a raised brow, she came into the room and closed the door, leaning against it with her arms crossed. "Should I guess?"

"No. You should go down to the ME's office and hang out with Felix."

"You know I don't like corpses. Which is exactly why you shouldn't be doing…" She wagged a finger at the file open before me. "Whatever that is that I don't want to know about, even though I can guess. Because if Cap finds out, we're gonna have another body on our hands."

"You wanna help?"

"Yeah." She exploded off the door and scraped out the chair across from me, plopping into it before she'd finished speaking the single syllable.

"You could get in trouble," I warned.

She blew out a scoffing breath between her nearly closed lips. "What's new this week? These aren't originals, are they?"

"Do I look stupid?"

"You really want me to answer that?" she asked, reaching for part of the file. "You know, the investigation on this case is complete shit."

"What?"

"You think I haven't glanced at it? Partner? Of course, I peeked at it to see where they're at."

Looking for the witness list, I slipped an envelope with color copies beneath the folder as I moved things aside to study.

"Those the scene photos?" she asked, noticing the shuffle.

"Yeah."

She reached out a hand. "I won't make you look, but maybe, I can see something."

"I've see them. In reality and in print," I said, sliding them across the pitted table. I'd witnessed the scene over and over in my nightmares. "I just don't want to see them again. You know, every time I look at this I get so angry…"

I shook my head at the utter unfairness. Last week's murder case was done and dusted. It hadn't been difficult to find the perpetrator, even get a confession, and close the case. We'd still have court, and there were forensic details to finalize between now and then, but it was pretty much wrapped.

The guy pissed me off. More than that. He was a spoiled brat who hadn't gotten what he wanted, so he'd killed two innocent people in a vengeful tantrum. So pointless. A couple was dead because he was a spoiled fuck.

We'd nailed plenty of criminals in cases that were harder, too.

But Melonie's? Nothing. Every time Anderson and I closed a case, helpless fury ripped through me because the most important investigation of my life had never been solved. Worse, I had a gnawing suspicion the murder might be connected to my primary investigation at the time, though I had no idea how. Plenty of people had reason to want revenge on me.

"You know what I don't get?" Anderson said twenty minutes later, her brow furrowed. "It was mid-morning, in a busy, locked-down building. And no one saw or heard anything? All visitors allowed in were accounted for. And why isn't there security footage. A high-profile, international brokerage firm like that? They'd have cameras, but they all had a mysterious malfunction. Bullshit. It doesn't even look like they interviewed half the people on the fucking floor," she swore, tossing down a paper.

"She was found near the copy room at the back of the building. It's loud there. They're assuming a suppressor was used."

"Who the fuck was the ME? Not Felix," she swore, a sure sign she was worked up. She was already dialing the phone before I could stop her. "Yeah, Feelie. You busy?"

Obviously, he replied something snarky because she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I know you're always busy. Look. I need you to look up a case you guys did—no, not you. But it was your lab."

She gave him the case number and waited.

"Were the slugs from a .22?" she asked. "It's not in the file, and I'm guessing no one even bothered to ask why, like fucking rookies. There's no way you guys didn't retrieve them." I heard Felix ask her something, though she didn't have her phone on speaker. She practically growled while her fingers tapped on the table. "Yeah, I'm worked up. Seeing this crap, half-ass work is messing up my Sunday."

I swallowed hard, knowing they were talking about the woman I'd loved. I could barely stomach it. And my gut roiled as the vision of Vale on that table exploded into my thoughts. What the fuck? Why was I seeing her and not Melonie? Not that I wanted to think of either!

It was only through steely will, I didn't vomit while I scrubbed my hand over my eyes as if I could erase the vision.

"You okay there, partner?" Anderson asked, pocketing her cell.

"Fine." So not fine.

"Day…"

"You can't be hardened to this shit," I told her, deflecting.

"No. No, I'm not. Plus my boyfriend is surrounded by death 24/7—well more like 16/7, I guess. We have a lot of wild sex. There's nothing like kinky kinks for catharsis."

"Fuck. TMI, Anderson. And definitely not the right moment."

She shrugged one blazer-clad shoulder. "Did I say that out loud? Oops. But anyway, you asked."

"I didn't ask."

And I wanted to stab myself for thinking of the wild, adventurous sex life I used to have. Especially when it led me to wonder if Vale was into a little kink. It seemed sacrilegious to even contemplate right now, and I definitely didn't entertain the ideas or let them linger. I couldn't. Not here and now with this particular file spread out between us.

Still, last night was the first I'd slept decently in five years, leading me to rise refreshed and feeling bulletproof this morning. Which was probably what had led me here to this moment—me thinking I was strong enough to face it today.

I couldn't say it was a dreamless sleep, though. More disquieting, which made my exhilaration all the more confusing. In my dream-state, Melonie had morphed into Vale, the two of them appearing as one woman for a moment, before it was just Vale standing there. And I wondered if it had been Melonie saying goodbye, giving me permission or sending me a message.

"Felix, says it was a .22," Anderson reported, pulling me back to the present as she got back to business. "And given the circumstances, I'm thinking… A Beretta. Specifically the M950. It's semi-automatic, allowing this many shots in quick succession," she said, studying one of the photos, but holding it so the image angled away from me. She chewed on the thumbnail of her free hand while she thought. "They're notoriously quiet, without a suppressor, and they sound like a pellet gun. With copiers running, and the office's sound-deadening panels overhead and all around for cubicles, I can almost believe no one noticed."

I stared at her. "That's more than anyone's come up with in years."

"Doesn't get you anywhere," she scoffed.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It answers questions, though. Gives a possibility."

"Yeah, but what do we do with the hypothesis?" She lifted an eyebrow at me, but I had nothing. "Exactly," she went one, gathering up all the papers we'd studied and slipping the pictures into the folder with them. "There's nothing we can do. Officially. I'm taking this. I want to run some things past Felix, then I'll give it back."

"Okay," I agreed as my phone vibrated. Despite the heaviness in the room, I smiled at seeing it was Vale. Just a few days ago, guilt would have poked me, but something had changed since last night—since being with her and talking and after that weird dream.

My smile faded when I read her text.

Vale:Were you expecting someone to your place?

Day:No.

Vale:A strange car pulled up and a guy went inside.

She sent a picture, clearly taken from her place, judging by the distance. Even so, I knew that vehicle.

I shot to my feet, scraping back my chair in my hurry.

Day:Lock the door and stay in your house.

I looked over at Anderson. "Someone just broke in my place."

Only, break-in wasn't strictly the right term since once upon a time, he'd had a key. And apparently, still did.