Hard to Fight

Silence now, and Raide stops right beside the bush I’m hiding pathetically behind. I hold my breath and try not to move. It really wouldn’t look good if he found me like this. I close my eyes. I hope my cupcake is okay. Dammit, I really wanted it.

“Yeah, well, you got twenty-four hours to get me a new location.”

Then he obviously hangs up, because his footsteps pick up and he disappears. An interesting conversation indeed. I wait a few moments and then stand, shuffling out of the bushes.

“Are you okay?”

I squeal and spin around to see an elderly man staring at me.

“What are you doing in the bushes?”

“Ah, I had an emergency … of a personal nature.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Bladder problems—they happen to the best of us!”

Then I give him a lame wave and run across the road to my car. When I get back into my car, I drop my head onto the wheel and exhale loudly.

This isn’t going well.

* * *

“How’s the case going, Grace?” Don asks when I arrive at the office the next morning.

I yawn and wave my hand. “Fine.”

“Fine? Have you gotten any leads? Any sightings?” he questions.

“Yes.” I smile. “I have quite a few.” Liar.

He nods, pleased. “Then I’ll expect to see him brought in soon.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Good. Got a small job for you. Any time free today?”

I nod. “Sure, bring me the file.”

He removes a file I didn’t even notice was tucked under his arm and hands it to me. “Five grand. Easy.”

“Thanks, Don.”

I turn and head into my office, passing Julio on the way. He scowls at me, running his hand over his shiny, slicked-back hair. Such a jerk.

“Morning, Julio,” I chirp happily.

“Don’t rub it in, Grace. You’ll fail—and when you do, it’ll be me with the smirk.”

I laugh softly. “Okay, buddy, nice chatting.”

I lock myself in my office and flop down into my chair, flicking on my computer. I have this bounty to bring in, but I’ll do it this afternoon. First I have paperwork to do from other cases, as well as research to do on Raide’s case. I want to find out more about him. I want to know exactly what he did. I’ve studied his file, but there has to be more. I run his name through the database we can access while I filter through e-mails.

When my computer dings, I click on the links provided. It gives me more detail about Raide’s case. Assault leading to severe bodily harm of a man aged twenty-four years old. Suspected of murdering his—I gasp—his sister. His own sister. My face scrunches up as I read the articles provided. There is great detail about his sister and how she was found with multiple stab wounds to her chest and stomach. She was dead. Raide was found at the scene, knife in hand, towering over her boyfriend’s body, which was badly beaten. The boyfriend pressed charges, saying Raide killed his sister out of pure rage and came after him when he tried to defend her.

Why? It makes no sense. It says Raide had somewhat of a difficult upbringing; his father was a junkie, jailed when Raide was twelve. His mother left Raide and his sister when he was fourteen and she was only eleven. They were put into foster care together. Did something happen there? Why would he want to murder his own sister? It just doesn’t add up.

My chest clenches with an unfamiliar emotion. I can’t pretend I know Raide well enough to know if he’d do something like that, but he just doesn’t seem like the type. He’s got an arrogant side, sure, but there’s something else in his eyes, too. Something that expresses a hurt he’s lived with in the past. Could that hurt be because he actually did kill his sister? Or is he living with the fact that someone else murdered her and he couldn’t save her? That makes so much more sense.

Part of me doesn’t want to believe Raide did it, because that means the man I’ve been playing with is genuinely dangerous. The very thought has my heart constricting. Why should it matter, anyway? If he did it or he didn’t, my job is to bring him in regardless. I shouldn’t care if he’s being wronged, or attempt to decipher my feelings toward the whole thing. I force myself back to the here and now, pushing my emotions about it aside.

Raide could only be charged with assault due to the fact that right now he’s only a suspect for the murder. A good friend of his paid the bail money and Raide was let out to await trial. He was meant to show up for his trial, but he didn’t. So that’s when we were called in. It’s our job to hunt him down and bring him in so he can stand trial. We get paid, they get their trial. It also means Raide will face more time behind bars, because he chose to do a runner.

Tap tap.

I lift my head to see Vance at my window. I stand up with a smile and unlock my door, letting him in. He’s got a bag of Chinese food in one hand and soda in the other. Lifesaver.

“How’s it going, Gracie?” he asks, flopping down in the chair across from me.

“Good. Only you know to bring me Chinese food for breakfast.”

He grins. “Only you can eat Chinese food for breakfast.”

That’s true. Most people are grossed out by it, but whatever. It’s my thing.

“I’m just looking over Raide’s case,” I say, reaching for the soda. “It doesn’t quite add up.”

“How do you mean?” he asks, unwrapping the Chinese and sliding a box toward me.

“Thanks,” I say, taking it. “Well, it says he was found with a knife in his hand, his sister dead, her boyfriend badly beaten…”

“And?”

“And that he killed her and was going to kill him.”

Vance shrugs. “So what doesn’t make any sense?”

I narrow my eyes and purse my lips. “Firstly, why would he beat him so badly before attempting to kill him?”

Vance frowns. “Rage?”

“But why?” I rub my jaw. “Why would he have so much rage? There’s nothing about previous issues with the sister and her boyfriend. It doesn’t make sense. And if he just wanted to kill them, why beat him but not her? Why not stab him too and leave?”

“Maybe the boyfriend did something to him, or the boyfriend and the sister. Maybe something bad happened and he wanted revenge on both of them.”

“So why stab her but beat him first?”

Vance narrows his eyes. “Maybe the boyfriend was the one who instigated it … maybe he was trying to defend his sister … there are plenty of reasons.”

“It just doesn’t seem right.”

“Grace,” Vance warns, “don’t get caught up in this. You have a job to do, and that job is to bring Raide in. It’s not your job to be a pretend cop and try to figure out what went down. He was arrested, and there was obviously good reason.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s right, Vance.”

He reaches across the desk, taking my hands and pulling me close. “Don’t get caught up in this,” he repeats. “Not only could you lose your job but you could end up in danger, too. Just bring him in, Grace.”

I nod, knowing he’s not going to understand or even try to. I force a smile and unwrap the Chinese food. As I eat, I try to push thoughts of Raide out of my mind. He didn’t seem like a bad person. Arrogant, sure—but a murderer? That just doesn’t fit. But then, who am I to try to analyze? Some of the best killers are the ones you least suspect.