Macey
WHILE I WAS in the hospital, Payton organized the packing and moving of my apartment into a high-rise condo in Portland with a doorman.
Due to its location, I knew the place had to have cost a mint, but I couldn’t be sure. Payton gave me the master suite that overlooked the water and took the second bedroom down the hall. Floor to ceiling windows in the living room gave unobstructed views of the Willamette River and the Fremont Bridge, and I was pretty sure Payton’s parents helped pay part of the rent. At least, someone did. There had to be a third-party because there was no way we could afford a two bedroom, two-bathroom condo on Naito.
“Do you like it?” Payton asked as I shuffled through the inside.
I’d been released from the hospital barely an hour before, and Dallas had left me in Payton’s capable hands. He hadn’t wanted to leave, but I forced him to go.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Payton held her hands out and spun in a circle. “We have two decks, Mace. Two. We can walk to everything. We have a full-time concierge service, sauna, and a gym. We each get a parking spot and there’s storage.”
I narrowed my eyes. “There is no way the rent’s cheap enough for us to afford this, Payton.”
“Dallas set it up, so I promise, we only have to pay half each. You don’t have to worry.”
“No, I mean, there’s no way this condo would rent for anything less than three or four grand a month. So, who’s paying the rest of it?”
“Mace,” she said in exasperation. “It’s one of Dallas’s dad’s properties. And I think he’s giving us a deal because… well, because it’s you.”
Dallas’s father was a real estate developer and loaded. But he was also a very nice man and adored his kids. He would absolutely do this for Dallas if he asked him to.
I grimaced. “I didn’t want to owe him anything.”
“You don’t. Won’t. They care about you, Macey. You need to be in a safer place, and since I needed to move out, I thought we could room together. You know we’ve always talked about it,” Payton said, her positivity grating on me.
I sighed and rubbed my temples, my head suddenly pounding.
“Do you have a headache?” Payton asked.
“Nothing gets by you, Payton.”
“You don’t get headaches.”
“Well, I do now. Alec said that the bonus prize of all of this shit is migraines. And he said they may or may not go away.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I grumbled, and waved my hand toward the water. “Can you really afford this, Payton?”
“You and I are splitting rent… of course I can afford it.”
I shook my head. “Did Dallas strong arm you into moving in to keep an eye on me?”
“No one made me do anything,” Payton said. “It was time. And don’t worry about the money. I have a little savings and my school loans are super low interest, so it’s all good.”
“But you’re moving to Portland, which means you’re going to have to pay income tax now.”
Payton was a teacher and had paid her way through school mostly on her own, which left her with debt, but her degree also provided her a good job in Vancouver. With a ten percent income tax hit to her salary, I didn’t know how long Payton would find it worth her while.
“You know I have always wanted to live in the city. I’m down here all the time anyway.”
I sighed. “Yeah, but you haven’t had to do that morning commute before.”
“Mace, I’m fine with it,” Payton assured me.
“Well, I’m not,” I snapped. “You shouldn’t have to take a hit to your bottom line to make sure I ‘feel’ better. I will never feel better, so you’re giving up a hell of a lot of money for no fucking reason, Payton.”
“Well, this is happening, so you’re just going to have to get used to it,” Payton said.
“I don’t have to get used to shit!”
Beyond pissed and feeling very sorry for myself, I barricaded myself in my room, locking the door and shoving a chair under the knob. It didn’t matter what Payton did, or how hard she tried, I gave her nothing.
Over the next few weeks, I managed to shut Dallas out, continued to try to do the same to Payton, but Payton wouldn’t let me retreat. This meant Payton got the sharp end of my tongue and I could lob an insult like no other.
Three months after my attack, I was sure Payton was ready to give up on our friendship.
Payton’s parents were celebrating their thirty-sixth wedding anniversary and they’d booked a large section of Beaches Restaurant in Vancouver. The family and closest friends were invited and that included me. I, however, wanted nothing to do with it.
“You said you’d come,” Payton reminded me.
“No. I didn’t say anything. You assumed I’d come.”
“Macey, you have to be there.”
“Why, Payton? Why do I have to be there?” I snapped.
“Because my parents adore you.”
“What a load of sentimental, pathetic horse shit! I’m not even family.”
“You are family, Mace. We love you. You know we do.”
“What exactly do I need to do to make you understand that I want nothing to do with you?” I bellowed. “God, Payton, stop being such an idiot! Just leave me the hell alone.”
Payton, with tears streaming down her face, her voice hiccupping as she spoke and jabbing a finger at me, yelled, “I don’t care what you say to me, sister of my heart. I don’t care if you tell me I’m an idiot or that I’m pathetic! I love you, Macey Gilbert, and you will not chase me away because you’re too broken to recognize you are worthy.” She slapped her palm to her chest. “I know your value. I know your worth. Dallas knows that too. So does my family. We are not going anywhere,” she screamed. “Do you hear me? Nowhere! You are going to call Mom’s friend and you are going to get some fucking counseling even if Brock has to handcuff you and drive you to the fucking appointment in a squad car. I will drag you inside and shove your ass onto her couch. But you will not live like this anymore. I’m done watching you slowly try to kill yourself.”
“Fine! I won’t kill myself slowly anymore, Payton. I’ll take care of it right now!” I shouted and stormed out of the apartment.
I didn’t get far.
Brock was leaning up against his car when I exited the building. “Go away, Brock.”
He pushed away from the cruiser and shook his head. “Not gonna happen, babe.”
“I hate you so much right now.”
“Yep, I know.” Brock looked down at his phone. “Wanna walk a bit?”
“No.” I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt further around my face. “It’s daylight.”
“So?”
“Look at me.” I waved a hand toward my face, but dropped my head again. “Actually, don’t. I’m a monster, Brock. Right now, I just want to throw myself in front of the MAX.”
He cornered me without touching me, forcing me to look at him. “Mace. I know that my words mean nothing to you right now, but what’s on the outside is still beautiful, it’s what you’re doing to the inside that’s making you a monster.”
“Fuck you, Brock.”
Brock smiled. “I love you, Macey. We all do. At some point, you’ll get that through your thick head, but until then, you’ve got us and we’re not going anywhere.”
“There’s nothing left to love.”
He still didn’t touch me. Knew I couldn’t stand it, but he also didn’t let me out of his reach. He smiled again. “Not true.”
I forced back tears and dropped my head. “Well, I hate me. Why don’t you just do the same and go away?”
Brock knelt down a bit, so he could catch my eye, again without touching me. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. None of us are. You can either fight it until you’re too tired to fight it anymore, or you can embrace it and avoid a lot of frustration in the end. You’re going to have to face Dallas at some point, too. Whether you want to acknowledge it, he loves you and he’ll give you space, but he’s not going anywhere either.”
“What if I kill your dog? Will that make you hate me enough to go away?”
“I don’t have a dog.” He smiled. “And you wouldn’t let me kill that stupid ass spider when you were twelve years old, remember? I highly doubt you’d kill a dog.”
“Well, I had just finished Charlotte’s Web,” I explained. “How horrible would it be if one of the spiders was Nellie?”
“Babe, I can guarantee you that that spider was most assuredly not one of Charlotte’s offspring.”
Despite the desire to smile, just a bit, I ground out, “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“Yes. I. Do.”
Brock chuckled. “No you don’t.”
I bit my lip. “Payton hates me.”
“No she doesn’t.”
“I told her that she was sentimental and pathetic, and that I’m not going to your parents’ party because I’m not family.”
“Yeah, that would have hurt her, Mace. But she still doesn’t hate you.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Then that really does make her an idiot.”
Brock shook his head. “No, that makes her your family.”
“Stop it, Brockaby.” I burst into tears. “I’m the worst person on earth. She’s always so nice to me and all I ever do is push her away. Everything is just so messed up and I feel so... “
“Honey, we can’t even imagine what you’re going through. We just wanna be here for you.”
I wiped my tears. “I can’t. I can’t cope.”
“Well, now we’re getting somewhere. You gonna call Mom’s friend?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope.”
“Fine. I’ll call her.”
Brock smiled. “Good. Can I hug you?”
I bit my lip. “I can’t hug you before I hug Dal. It just doesn’t feel right.”
“Even better,” Brock said. “I agree that it should be him first.”
I nodded.
“You know we got accepted. Me, Dallas, and Jax.”
I nodded again. The FBI had scouted the three young detectives to be trained for a special op team.
Brock frowned. “He doesn’t want to go.”
“He has to go,” I said. “It’s the career opportunity of a lifetime.”
“He’s worried about leaving you for six months.”
“I’ll be fine. Tell him I’ll get counseling. Tell him I’ll get better, but I need space. He needs to live his life and not wait around for me. I might never be ready.”
Brock shook his head. “You’re gonna have to tell him yourself, babe, but when you do, if he does go, I’ve got his back.”
“Thanks, Brock. Please don’t let him do anything stupid.”
“I won’t.”
“And I mean anything you would naturally do yourself,” I clarified.
“There she is,” he said, and grinned. “You’re coming back, beautiful. Fight for that, okay? You are amazing.”
I bit back a sob. “Stop it, Brock.”
He smiled again. “Okay. Love you, Mace.”
“Love you, too, Brock.”
“Come on, I’ll take you back to Payton. She’s gonna need a hug. I’ll tell Dallas to call you later.”
I nodded and followed him back into the building and up to my apartment.
* * *
Dallas
Six months later…
I dragged my ass into the office, having stayed up most of the night making notes on Macey’s file. I’d figured out pretty quickly that Brock hadn’t provided me with all the details, which didn’t surprise me, but still pissed me off. With no option other than to weed through the “redacted” file, I ended up with more questions than answers.
“You look like shit,” Bill, one of the older agents, said.
“Yeah, thanks Bill. Appreciate that.”
Bill chuckled. “Long night?”
I sat at my desk and pulled open one of my drawers. “Yeah. Finally went to bed around four.”
“Hot date?”
I snorted, biting back a yawn. “Paperwork.”
“Damn. Hate paperwork.”
“Don’t we all.”
“Bill! We gotta go,” Marvin, Bill’s partner, called from the front door.
“Take it easy,” Bill said, and left.
“If only I could,” I muttered to myself.
Once I found the file I was looking for, I headed straight to the evidence room, which just happened to be adjacent to the file room. Nita Long, a stunning black woman of just over thirty, who I classified as one of the “good ones,” ruled over all things paper as she liked to tell people. With Brock and Jaxon both out on assignment, I knew I had a few precious hours to get the information I needed before my partners came back and redirected me to keep me from the truth.
I bit back another yawn and sidled down the hall to where Nita sat at a large desk, fingers tapping away at her keyboard and her face strained in concentration. She glanced up at me and smiled. “No.”
“What? You don’t even know why I’m here,” I said.
“Why are you here?”
“I want to see the file on—”
“No,” Nita said, and focused back on her computer.
“Nita, come on. Help me out here.”
“I was given strict instructions not to let you anywhere near that file, Dallas Stone.”
“Nita.” I leaned across the counter and sighed. “My girl was hurt. She was almost killed. I am the best… no, the only person who can pick apart that file.”
“Gorgeous man, I hear you, but the answer is no.”
“She won’t let me in.”
Nita glanced up at me with a frown. “Come again?”
“Macey. She won’t let me in. I am banned from her life. Her heart. She won’t talk to me and she sure as hell won’t see me.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I need this, Neet. I need to do something to help.”
“She won’t talk to you?”
I shook my head.
“Poor thing.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “You know what she means to me. Please give me something here. I’m goin’ nuts.”
Nita pushed back in her chair and pulled open a drawer to her right. She set a manila folder on her desk and crossed her arms. “I really need a cup of coffee. I’m going to get said cup of coffee and I’ll be back in less than ten minutes with that cup of coffee. I sure hope that nothing is disturbed while I’m away.”
She moved from behind the desk and I hugged her. “Thanks. I owe you.”
“Mmm-hmm. Yes, you do.”
I watched her leave and then grabbed the file, stepping into the copy room. I had the copies I needed and the file back on Nita’s desk before she returned, but I hung around and waited for her.
“I see nothing was moved,” Nita said, and slipped the file back into her drawer.
“Thanks, babe.”
“Figure it out, Dallas, okay?”
I cocked my head. “You’ve read the file?”
She nodded. “It’s not right,” she whispered. “Brock insisted on keeping a paper file of everything and between you and me, he was right. Someone changed the electronic one. And it wasn’t Brock or Jaxon to keep you out of it.”
“What the hell?”
“Hold up,” she said, and grabbed her notepad, slipping into the copy room and returning with three pages of handwritten notes. “These are the changes. No one knows about them yet. I was going to tell Brock, but hadn’t gotten around to it.”
“Make another set of copies and then put the originals somewhere they can’t be found, Nita,” I said. “But definitely show Brock and Jaxon, yeah? Just don’t tell them you and I talked.”
She nodded.
“You’re a rock star, lady.”
Nita smiled. “And don’t you forget it.”
“Okay, I’ve got some work to do. Thanks again.” I headed to my desk and my phone buzzed in my pocket, so I pulled it out. “Hey, Brock.”
“Hey. Can’t meet tonight. Gotta help Dad with something.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, he bought a sofa off Craigslist and needs help moving it from the truck into the basement before the rain starts.”
“No worries,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”
Brock hung up and I walked out of the office and to my car, managing to avoid my boss. I headed back to my home and sat down to delve into the paperwork.
* * *
Three hours later, I was working on controlling my emotions… unsuccessfully. My heart constricted with a pain I’d never experienced before while looking through the crime-scene photos. I’d seen images like this before, but never ones that involved someone I loved, and sure as hell none that involved Macey.
I flipped over another photo. Blood. Macey’s blood covered the carpet. Torn pieces of her clothes were everywhere. The photos of her beaten and bloody body were also in the pile, but after seeing one, bile rose in the back of my throat and I dropped the photo and ran for the sink. A near empty whiskey bottle sat on the counter, and I grabbed it and chucked it against the wall. I had no idea the extent of the damage through the haze of tears, but the sound of shattering glass was surprisingly satisfying. After washing the sick out of my mouth and taking a minute to breathe, I went back to my task.
The autopsy report and photos on the perp didn’t gain me anything, as he didn’t seem to exist. He was labeled “John Doe,” and I wondered how a ghost could have committed such a violent crime. I had a hard time believing that this “John Doe” hadn’t done it before, so why hadn’t his DNA gotten a hit in CODIS? Nita was right. None of this made sense.
I decided looking at the photos was too much, so I put them aside and focused on Nita’s notes. Most of the changes could easily be dismissed as typos, but two discrepancies stuck out, and I realized quickly there were only a handful of people who would have had the authority to alter those details.
“Damn it,” I whispered, and grabbed my cell phone to dial Jaxon.
“Hey, Dal.”
“Hey, Jax. You alone?”
“Hold on,” Jaxon said, and I heard the click of a door in the background. “I’m good now. What’s up?”
“I need this to stay between us.”
“Okay,” Jaxon said carefully.
“Not over the phone.”
“I can be at your place in fifteen minutes.”
“That would be great,” I said, and hung up.
As promised, Jaxon arrived fifteen minutes later, and I let him in. “The file isn’t right.”
“The file,” Jaxon said. “What file?”
“Macey’s file,” I said. “Not the one you and Brock gave me.”
“Damn it, Dallas.”
“Take a second to get it out, Jax, and then we’ll talk.”
“Who the hell gave you the file?”
“That’s not really important.”
“Okay, so Nita gave you the file.”
I sighed without confirmation. “There are a shit ton of discrepancies between your notes and what the computer said.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, the paper trail wasn’t shredded, and the electronic file’s been altered.”
“Shit,” he muttered. “What do you need me to do?”
“Not sure yet. There aren’t a whole lot of people who have access to change the records without notice.”
“Yeah. Okay, I’ll swing by here tomorrow after I stop in at the office and we can go through it. I won’t tell Brock.”
“Thanks.”
“No promises, Dallas. Set your expectations low. As far as everyone’s concerned, this case is closed. The guy was caught due to the fact Brock killed him. If we go sniffin’ around, it’ll draw focus. So we have to be careful.”
“I get it.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” Jaxon countered. “This isn’t going to be solved in a week, Dal. It could take a while.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Yeah, brother. I get it.”
“I have other shit I can be looking for, so it won’t ping if I’m in the records’ room.”
“Great,” I said, leading him to the door.
“See you tomorrow.”
I nodded, closing the door behind him. I then threw the file in the safe hidden in my closet.
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Macey. She didn’t answer. She never did, but I didn’t care. Every day it was the same. I called her at least twice, morning and night, but today, I needed to hear her voice again, even if it was in the form of her voicemail message.
“You’ve reached Macey. I’m obviously doing something incredibly important like saving a life or washing my hair, so leave a message and I’ll call you back… and if this is Dallas, well, you know what to do.”
I loved this. Loved that she hadn’t changed it. I chose to take it as a sign that she might still love me just a little.
“Hey, baby. Just wanted to hear your voice. I love you. I’ll call you before I go to bed. ’Bye.” I hung up and headed to the shower.
* * *
Macey
I stared at my phone. I was surprised Dallas had called me again. I lived for his calls, but it was rare that he called in the middle of the day. I bit my lip. I hoped he was okay.
I waited until the voicemail dinged, and then dialed in.
“Hey, baby. Just wanted to hear your voice. I love you. I’ll call you before I go to bed. ’Bye.”
I saved the message and hugged the phone to my chest. If he ever actually listened to me and stopped trying to reach me, I’d die. I relied on his messages; they were what kept me sane, and proved he still loved me. They also drove home that I would never stop loving him. As long as I lived, he’d be it for me. Kissing the phone, I said a quick little prayer and then headed into the kitchen for wine.