Trey paced the break room, remembering Brittany’s earlier dismissal of him. It was no more than he deserved but he felt as if he were torn in two, a part of him demanding he let her go and the other part of him saying he’d be a damn fool if he let her walk away.
He should’ve called in and stayed home to sort through this with Brittany.
Bryson strolled in and headed for the coffee machine. “You look like shit.”
Trey rubbed the back of his neck. “I feel like shit.”
“Whatever is going on will pass. You and Brittany will work it out.”
So she hadn’t told Bryson what a son-of-a-bitch Trey had been to her. It shouldn’t have surprised Trey. Brittany held certain things so close to herself, the most seasoned interrogator couldn’t pry it out of her.
“By the way, Karl asked to crash at the crib. Poor bastard. I feel so sorry for the guy.” He shook his head and sipped his coffee. “He met me downstairs and I gave him my keys to let himself in.”
“You gave Karl your keys to the apartment? Why the fuck would you do that?” he snapped, reaching for the cell phone clipped to his belt.
“Why wouldn’t I? The man is still grieving. He’s living a pure nightmare.”
“I know.” Guilt sharpened his words. “But I don’t know how comfortable Brittany will be with him there.”
“Can it, man. She’s so uncomfortable around your cousin because you two come to blows most of the time she’s anywhere near.”
“Brittany has come a long way and I don’t want him walking in there without warning, scaring the shit out of her.”
“I told him Brittany is probably asleep so as long as he doesn’t disturb her, everything’s cool. Who knows? He might call her and let her know he’s there. I gave him her cell phone number not long after she got a new one.”
Trey glowered at Bryson. He’d had no right giving Karl Brittany’s cell phone number. But that was another conversation for another day. “Asshole, if Brittany awakens and hears noises in the apartment, she’s still going to freak.” Grief-stricken or not, he didn’t like the thought of Karl alone with Brittany. He dialed her cell phone number and received no answer. A second call produced the same result.
“Check yourself. Karl pushes your buttons.”
“He threatened to have his bodyguards shoot me.”
“And? You got your ass shot off trying to save his girlfriend at his urging. Whatever happened before then is water under the bridge. And after all that’s happened to him, I’m sure he’ll take care not to frighten Brittany or anger you.”
A thoughtful frown on his face, Trey wondered why Brittany wasn’t answering her phone. She must be exhausted; otherwise her loud ringer should’ve awakened her on the second call.
Mitchell rushed in, carrying a file, his eyes wild with anger. Dread settled into Trey and he dialed Brittany’s number again.
“Put the goddamn phone away and listen to me.” He shoved the file against Trey’s chest. “Your cousin’s a dead man.”
That got Trey’s attention and he straightened in his chair. He glanced at the file. “Karl?” Burning fury rose in him, tunneling into every pore in his body. “Karl’s at the apartment.”
“Lieutenant, what’s up with you and Karl?” Bryson asked. “You’ve always had something against the man. He’s basically a good guy—”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Something loosened and unraveled inside Trey at the anger in Mitchell’s tone and the sympathy in his eyes. He snapped his phone from its clip again. “What do you think he’s done?”
“I don’t think Karl has done anything.” Mitchell stood toe-to-toe with Bryson. “I happen to know what he did. Brittany called Spenser who in turn called me. That motherfucker raped Brittany and set Trey up to be shot.” He thrust his hands through his hair. “I got evidence from his house. I’ve been trying to get a hit for DNA from Brittany’s attack. The results are due back any day but who gives a fuck. I heard Brittany sob the entire fucking story myself.” He glared at Bryson, who looked furious. “I believe good, upstanding Karl also sent those fucking thugs after my wife.”
“I’m going to fucking tear him to pieces,” Trey swore, his heart banging against his chest.
“Only if you get to him before I do,” Mitchell spat and pulled his radio from his belt to bark out a series of orders.