CHAPTER THREE
GRACE
I knew it was going to happen eventually, especially now the investigation is over, but this guy? I have a feeling I gave him an earful at the bar last night, not that I remember much about it today. I woke up on Bobby’s couch—clothed, thank fuck, but with a head full of rocks all the same.
I look across. Steel-cut jaw, broad shoulders, arms like anacondas…
At least he’s nice to look at, I consider.
I made damn sure I was driving, of course. The last thing I need is for Johnny Hicksville here to wrap us around a telephone pole because he’s never seen a set of traffic lights in his life. No, you’ve got to be a special breed to drive in New York. You’ve got to be fucking nuts.
Five minutes in and he decides to break the silence. “Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot.”
I keep up the routine. “You think?”
“I’m here to do my job. That’s all.”
“Good, because these streets as are serious as a heart attack. You can’t hesitate. Too many good cops have died because of it, trying to be measured. If a perp’s pointing a gun at you, you take them down. Got it? Better to be buried in paperwork than a coffin.”
He nods, absorbing it.
I pull up to the police tape.
What the hell?
I check the monitor screen, that icy sliver of realization sliding between my ribs. Fuck.
He senses something’s wrong. “Everything okay?”
I look to the apartment, Rachel’s apartment. “I’ve been here before.”
I step out and pull my badge, the newbie doing likewise as he follows me to the apartment, but the weird thing is no one seems to be paying it any attention. They’re all focused on the alley beside it.
I recognize Pauly from the Coroner’s. I don’t want to ask, because I know the answer already, but I force myself to. I’m just praying it’s that asshole of a boyfriend. I swallow down the fist-sized lump in my throat. “What we got, Pauly?”
“Siddell, nice to see you.” He sees Harry, Hugo—whatever his name is. “Who’s this?”
Newbie puts his hand out. “Hunter Beckett. Nice to meet you.”
Pauly leaves him hanging. I have to laugh. Poor guy must think the world hates him right now. “Through here.”
We follow Pauly into the alley.
I see feet poking out from behind a dumpster and I know immediately they’re hers. Push it aside. You’re on the job. “What happened?”
“Stabbed, multiple times.”
“Time?”
“It’s cold out, you know. Tough to say, but I’d say late, maybe midnight?”
“Weapon?” asks Hunter, snapping with surprising efficiency into work mode.
“We’ve been through the dumpster, raked the apartment… Nothing yet.”
“Anything else?”
Pauly points to a line of red running from the feet down the alley. It could as well be wine if I didn’t know better. “Looks like she was killed elsewhere and dumped here, dragged down behind the dumpster. Shitty way to go.”
It is. Rachel didn’t deserve this no matter how bad her taste in the opposite sex.
I point to the back door of the apartment. “What did you find in there?”
Pauly seems confused. “What do you mean?”
“In her apartment.”
His eyebrows knit together. “You know this girl?”
“Yeah, from school, way back,” I reply.
Pauly checks a clipboard. “I got nothing about that being her address.”
Fuck this. I take out my piece and make to the back door. “Newbie, on my ass.”
“You want backup?” asks Pauly.
I ignore him, go to kick the back door in, but stop. The lock’s already busted.
I try to keep my anger under control, but taking down someone I know? You don’t get away with that on my watch.
Just like last night there is glass and bits of furniture everywhere. Looks like a frat party gone wrong.
The bathroom is clear—no sign of blood or trauma. I have the new guy sweep the kitchen before we both move upstairs.
We come to the bedroom door. I give the new guy the count and go in, and there he is, the boyfriend, Chris, fucking sleeping of all things.
I put my finger up to my lips and slowly approach him. Fucker’s snoring could wake up an entire city block. I nudge him in the ribs with my weapon. His eyes widen, everything coming slowly into focus. For a second, he simply looks at me.
“Morning, asshole,” I smile.
He springs out of bed so fast I don’t have any time to react as I’m thrown hard against the wall.
“Stop!” calls the new guy as Chris dashes past him down the stairs.
I get up wincing, following them down the stairs. Chris is bolting for the door, New Guy on him. Just before he makes it New Guy dives—actually dives through the fucking air—both of them smashing through the door and sliding on what remains of it onto the stairs out front.