27. Maggie

Maggie

O utside my house, I'm standing at the curb, fighting the urge to run back inside. I know Grayson is probably cleaning up, stalking around my place like a wolf tending his den. It's sexy as hell—and it might be the last time I get to see him. After today, I might be alone again. No Gray. No George. Just me and a messy, empty home. I take one last glance over my shoulder, but before I can do anything, Harry pulls up next to me. With a final, longing look, I climb into his car. As soon as the door shuts, Harry's voice fills the air.

"Morning, Margaret. You look like shit."

"Fuck off, Harry."

He lifts both hands in mock surrender. "No jokes today, got it. Donuts are in the back if you want one."

I rest my forehead in my hand. "I can't even think about eating right now."

"Long night?"

"You have no idea."

"Tell me about it." His voice softens with genuine concern. "I've been told I'm a good listener."

I let out a small laugh. "By who? Your dog?"

"Humor an old man," he says with a grin, trying to coax me into opening up.

I take a deep breath and launch into the problem at hand. As I talk, Harry's brows draw lower and lower.

"Fuck, Margaret."

"Yeah, that about sums it up."

We're on the freeway, heading toward Skid Row. Thankfully, traffic is light. Harry shakes his head. "The guy's wife disappears for four years, only to show up now, possibly linked to a hit. Yeah, donuts won't fix that."

"No kidding."

He exits the freeway and heads toward a soup kitchen parking lot. A security guard waves us in after seeing Harry's badge.

As we get out, Harry leans against the car, rubbing his hands together. "Here's what you do: confirm it, then tell him."

I nearly roll my eyes. "Thanks for that brilliant insight, Harry."

He chuckles, drawing a glance from the security guard. I wince, lowering my hands, and Harry quickly calms down. "Okay, okay. But seriously, I can come with you if you want."

That's sweet, and I can't help but smile. Harry has always been there for me. From the moment I stepped into the detective gig five years ago, he's played the role of best friend and surrogate father. But telling Grayson is something I need to do myself.

Grabbing the three dozen assorted donuts from the back seat, we start down the sidewalk. Every person we pass is offered food and asked if they know where Suze hangs out.

After two hours, the donuts are gone, but we have an idea. Everyone who knows her says she'll be at the clinic for her methadone.

We make our way toward the place, passing hordes of homeless people. The stench of urine and unwashed bodies lingers in the air. It's upsetting, the smell of despair and lives given up on. I hate coming down here. When we reach the clinic, I scan the line of people waiting for their meds. And then I see her.

She looks even thinner than in her last mug shot. Hollow eyes, collarbones jutting out through her shirt. But it's the giant round belly that truly breaks my heart.

She's pregnant. Harry looks at me, his face a stoic mask. "You can wait in the car," he offers.

I shake my head. I need to hear it myself if I'm going to face Grayson later.

"Suze?" I ask, keeping my voice light.

"Yeah?" Her eyes flicker with fear and distrust as she sizes us up.

"I'm Detective Parker, and this is Detective Ronalds. We have a few questions for you."

"Fuck off, I'm not doing anything wrong."

Harry steps forward, his body towering over Suze. "Mrs. Cardenas, we aren't asking."

Her eyes go wide, her face paling at the use of her real name. "I need my meds," she says quietly.

"We can arrange for it down at the station."

Suze swallows hard but nods. As she steps out of the line, someone behind her follows.

"The fuck is this, Suze?"

Harry holds up his hand, his voice calm. "We just need to talk to her for a bit."

"The hell you do. Is this fucker bothering you?" The man, a beefy guy in a sweatshirt, puffs out his chest. Behind him, a dozen people wear similar scowls.

I grip Suze's arm. "Tell him it's okay. We don't want anyone hurt," I whisper.

"No, Jax, it's cool. I'll be back tonight," she says, flashing him a small smile.

Jax narrows his eyes but eventually backs off. "Yeah, okay. If you ain't, I'll come looking," he says. He gives us one last glare before shoving past. The three of us hurry down the sidewalk, leaving the clinic line behind.

"Is this about Axe?" Suze asks. I don't know what that means, but I nod anyway. If it makes the trip to the station easier, I'll take it.

Once we're in the car, Suze buckles up. Harry drives, and I take the back seat to be closer to the woman who has me so flummoxed. She's really here, alive. Other than the obvious, she seems fine.

We drive in silence until Suze speaks up. "Can we get some food?" Her hand trembles as she picks at her elbow. We need to get her the medication soon. But being hungry is a good sign.

"Sure, anything particular in mind?" I ask.

"Breakfast burrito. Little parasite likes salt, I guess," Suze says, her voice laced with venom. There's a hint of sadness in her eyes, but it's fleeting. If she wants food, I'll buy her a restaurant if that's what it takes. A well-fed suspect is easier to get answers from, especially when the meal's free. Far be it from me to judge—just ask Harry about my donut obsession.

"I'm on it," Harry says, already Googling the nearest drive-through. We stop and grab the burrito, which Suze devours in minutes. Good. I might not know much about being pregnant, but I know babies need food, and she's far too skinny.

Once she's done, she lays her head against the window and closes her eyes. Apparently, being questioned by two detectives isn't weighing too heavily on her mind. Or maybe she's just exhausted from being pregnant and homeless.

As we pull into the police station, I shake Suze awake. Her eyes flutter open, looking even more tired than before.

We walk into the station, and Harry arranges an interrogation room. After depositing the now-trembling woman inside, the two of us stand outside the door.

"Fuck, Maggie," Harry says, running a hand through his hair.

"Trust me, I know."

"What are we going to do here?"

"I have no clue. We need to ask about Axe and Chewy. She already sold out Axe."

Harry nods. "I think I should take the lead."

I silently agree. My emotions are all over the place right now. Hurt is at the forefront, and that would make for a hostile interrogation, which Suze doesn't need.

The jail nurse arrives and quickly administers Suze's medication. When the nurse leaves, Harry gives me an encouraging smile. "Ready?"

I nod, and we head inside.

"Mrs. Cardenas—"

"Just Suze," she says, her tone clipped.

"Right. Suze, my name is Harry, and this is Maggie. We just have a couple of questions."

"About Axe, right?"

"Yes. Can you start at the top?"

"No."

Her refusal takes me aback, and I lean forward. "I'm sorry, Suze. You're not going to talk to us?"

She shakes her head, her thin hair bouncing with the movement. "Axe is in jail already. Why should I get locked up too? Baby needs someone."

"Axe is the baby's father?" Suze nods. I make a mental note, though I hate that it's more for Grayson's benefit than the case. "Suze, how did you end up here?"

To my surprise, Suze starts to laugh. "I'm not boring you with my sob story."

The room falls silent. I don't know how to proceed. I know deep down that I should leave, let Harry question her, and move on. We'll never get the DA's permission to prosecute on an inmate's word alone. We need proof that Suze organized the hit, a money trail.

I turn to Harry. "I need a minute with her."

"Margaret, that's a bad idea."

"I know, but I have to. Please?"

Harry sighs but eventually nods and leaves the room. I pull out my phone, finding the picture I need. It's from our night building LEGOs. "Suze, you are Suzannah Cardenas, correct?"

She nods. "Guess I can't lie about it now. Yeah, in another life, I was her."

Zooming in, I crop myself out of the shot then set my phone down and slide it across the table. "This is George. You remember George, right?"

Suze glances at the photo but quickly looks away. "You know he misses you. He's trying to get his dad to find him a mom."

Without missing a beat, Suze says softly, "Good. I have nothing to offer them."

I shake my head and scoot my chair closer. "That's not true."

Suze scoffs. "Look at me, detective."

I do as I'm told, taking my time to scan her. The trembling has subsided since she took her meds. "You look good. Sober, at least."

She nods. "Have been since I found out."

"That's a start, Suze. And there are programs—"

"Yeah, I've been. They didn't take."

"You weren't ready. Now you are."

Suze looks down at her belly, her eyes brimming with moisture. "Can I see more?"

I show her more pictures of George. The more she looks, the more emotional she becomes. It's subtle—a tremble of her bottom lip here, a sniffle there—but it's clear she still cares.

"Are they… okay?"

I nod. "But this contract on Grayson…"

"I don't know anything about that." Based on the narrowing of her eyes and straightening of her shoulders, I'd wager that's a lie.

"Chewy says you gave $25,000 to Axe to have Grayson killed. His apartment was involved in a drive-by a few weeks ago."

"Chewy's a jealous fucking rat," she says, her chin raising defiantly.

"That might be, but where did you get the money?"

Suze shifts in her seat, then gives a small nod. "And you wanted it done?"

She shrugs, hugging her own arms. "I don't want anything to do with Gray. But it would have helped, yeah."

"Grayson dead would have helped? George without a dad or mom would have helped?"

Suze studies me carefully. "You're sleeping with him." I recoil, caught off guard by her accusation. "Must still be the beginning. That's when it's all fun with Gray. Then he gets controlling. It's all ‘where were you, what were you doing, who were you with.' You know he had a tracker put on my phone?" I stay silent, unsure how to respond. "But no, I don't really want him dead. I just want my money."

I clear my throat. "What money?"

"Fuck you. Go find your man and blow him for all I care."

I swear under my breath. Pieces of Suze are still intact, but they're buried deep beneath her bitterness. What Suze really needs is help—help that I can't give her. She must recognize the pain in my gaze because she sighs. "It's not like it was my idea, okay? Someone… well, he's pissed, and it was going to happen no matter what I did. I just wanted to get my money."

That's something to go on. A man wants Grayson dead, and they're using Suze as a middleman to make it happen.

"Suze, we can help."

Her gaze hardens. "No."

I slam my fist on the table. "Fuck." As soon as the word is out, the door opens behind us. Harry steps back into the room.

"Margaret, you're needed at your desk."

"But—"

"Now."

His tone leaves no room for argument. Roughly, I shove away from the table and stomp out of the room.