CHAPTER 27
Dylan
When I got home after dropping off the Damascus gun at the station and deciding to leave the paperwork for the morning, my mom was there, waiting. I’d warned her that it would be a late night, but I guess a mother’s instinct kept her up.
She took one look at my eye and inhaled deeply. “What,” she began, “is that?”
I touched my eye and flinched. “Painful.”
She ignored my flippant reply. “How did you get it?” she demanded.
“I’m a cop, Mom.”
She didn’t press the issue. Perhaps she figured it was best if she just didn’t know.
I walked to where she sat on the couch and gave her a kiss on the head. “Goodnight, Ma.”
“Dylan?”
“Yeah, Ma?”
She was silent, and then replied, “Please be careful.”
I nodded. “I’ll try.”
She always worried about me being in the force and all, but I suspected that over the past year I’d put her through more than she was built to handle. I resolved to treat her better, to cause her less hurt and anxiety. A son was supposed to bring his mother joy and comfort in her retirement years, not more gray hairs and insomniac sleeping patterns.
I slipped into Danny’s room and kissed his sleeping brow. He dozed peacefully, the sleep of someone who didn’t have a care in the world. At the very least, I could be proud of the fact that I’d kept his young life that simple. I went to my own room, where I promptly fell asleep, fully clothed.
The morning came faster than usual. I awoke groggy and dazed. My adrenaline immediately ratcheted up, as though my body thought I was still in the midst of the fight with the Black Dog boys.
Like the day before, Tom’s horn came faster than usual. I barely had time to pull on my clothes, swipe my toothbrush across my teeth, and grab a banana before hurrying out to the vehicle.
I was tired and preoccupied as I climbed in, mentally checking my pockets to make sure I had everything necessary to go about the day.
“What’s that?” Tom asked bluntly.
“What’s what?” I continued to check for my wallet, phone, keys, racing my hands across my body as though performing a cavity check on myself.
“The black eye.”
I stopped in my tracks. Fuck. Somehow, in the race from bed to car, I’d forgotten that I had a walloping black eye. Tom wasn’t gonna like this even a little bit. I readied myself for verbal battle and began.
“I went to the Black Dog.”
He gripped the steering wheel. “You did what?”
“Went to the Black Dog,” I repeated, knowing that he’d heard me perfectly.
Obviously struggling to control his rage, he replied, “And?”
“Found the gun from the Damascus case.”
Tom raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You did? How’s that?”
“Yup. It was in one of their junk piles, don’t ask me why.”
“Good, good,” he said absentmindedly, returned to quizzing me. “So, what were you really there for?”
“Er…” I trailed off.
“Don’t tell me. You were looking for a lead on the bakery case.”
“I was all out of other ideas.”
The old man harrumphed. “You know how I feel about using those half-assed criminals as a source.”
“Yeah, and I agree, but as we didn’t have any evidence on the case, I had to start somewhere.”
“You mean,” he argued, “we didn’t have any evidence that cleared your girl.”
I looked askance. Tom took that as a ‘yes.’
He continued, “It was stupid of you to go to the Black Dog alone, you get that? That’s the sort of op that requires backup. I’m guessing you didn’t call in what happened as you weren’t on official business. If you’d only asked me, I would’ve gone.”
There was palpable hurt in his voice. Not from being left out, so to speak, but from me putting my life on the line without confiding in him. A breach in our relationship had been opened by this damned case.
“You took an idiotic risk,” Tom went on. “And for some chick.”
“It was for the case.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped.
I barreled onward. “And, for what it’s worth, she’s not some chick.” I crossed my arms over my chest, and immediately regretted how petulant I appeared.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I like her, Tom, I really like her.”
“Well that’s just great. Could you try liking someone that we aren’t taking to court?”
I skidded to a halt. “Huh?”
With an almost tired edge to his voice, Tom replied, “I doubt Miss Zoe will be too interested in being your partner after she gets a court summons with your name on it.”
“I don’t understand.”
He sighed. “Of course you don’t. Do the math, Dylan. She looks like the most probable culprit at the moment. There are just too many motives to ignore.”
“That’s not possible.” Even as the words left my mouth, I knew they were wrong.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” Tom said. “You know the first rule of the force, kid, I trained you better than that. Don’t let your heart get ahead of your brain. Zoe, from where I stand, seems pretty fucking guilty. Between the cash register, and the alarm, and the rest… well, I’d rather not be serving your lady, but push has come to shove.”
I reeled back with shock. No. I couldn’t fathom this turn, even if it was a turn I well should have seen coming. I mean, I’d known Tom was theoretically building a case against her, but I’d assumed that was just a mental exercise, or perhaps even just something to write down for paperwork, to prove that we were making progress. It hadn’t dawned on me that he might actually think she was guilty.
“But Zoe would never forgive me.”
We would be over before we’d even really begun. The first woman I’d like since… well, since her death. I’d already been thinking about dating Zoe for real, not just midnight escapades, and maybe about introducing her to Danny. I knew the kid would see how good she was, how kind and funny. And after that… well, after that, maybe even starting a life together. My life had changed the day I met her, and less than a week later, it was about to change all over again.
But that wasn’t the worst part. It was bad that I might lose Zoe forever. The worst part, by far, was that I wasn’t entirely sure I believed she was innocent.