Page 16 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

BURGERS & FRIES

Graham

If that interrogation wasn’t a fucking shitshow, I don’t know what was. Cap really needed to work on his bedside manner. Somehow she was still supposed to believe we’d protect her after dragging her through the mud.

I held the door as she stepped out, straight into a gauntlet of green rookies from the scene.

Their glares screamed high school bullshit.

You’d think professionalism would be second nature around here, with how hard they drilled protocol.

And if I was the precinct’s poster boy for irreverence, the way they treated her said more than they realized.

As far as they knew, she was still the killer—just another suspect they didn’t have the clearance to actually understand.

“Front seat’s yours. Might be tight with all my crap, but better than looking like you’re under arrest.” I opened the passenger door and pulled the shotgun out from between the seats so the laptop could shift over a bit.

“Thanks,” she said, climbing in.

We pulled out of the lot, the sky darkening fast—blue turned slate, slate turned black.

Shop lights blinked on, one by one, flickering through the thickening mist. Fog rolled in off the water, thick and restless, smearing headlights and neon signs into a sick glowing haze.

It was the kind of night where shit went sideways and no one saw it coming.

It was a little after 9 P.M., and I hadn’t eaten anything since the pastry at the precinct.

“Hungry?” I pointed to a burger joint—Pier 84. “I could go for one.”

“Starving—but, uh… my wallet’s in my car. Not trying to mooch, promise,” she said, patting her sweater’s pockets like she was looking for something.

“You’ll have to owe me one.” I gave her a smile and pulled into the drive-thru.

“Thanks.”

“No worries, get whatever you want.” I fidgeted with my wallet while she leaned over me eying the menu.

I was dying because she smelled like a strawberry milkshake and trouble—and my dick didn’t care that I was technically on duty, just that she hovered inches above it.

I wasn’t starved for sex, not by a long shot. So why the hell did she make me feel like some horny teenager locked in a Victoria’s Secret dressing room?

“Pier 84, order when you’re ready,” a tired female voice rang through the speaker.

I leaned out the window and grinned. “That you, Linda?”

A pause. Then, “Graham Locke, is that you rollin’ in at nine-fifteen again?”

Maggie looked over at me, one brow raised.

“She closes at eight,” I whispered. “Keeps it open for me when I’m stuck on shift.”

“Of course it’s me, Linda.” I called back. “And I brought company this time.”

Another pause, this one laced with amusement. “Lord have mercy, is it a woman? You finally bring someone to feed besides yourself?”

Maggie choked on a laugh.

“She’s had a long day,” I said. “Think you could hook us up?”

“For you? Always. Tell the girl to order whatever she wants—just no funny business in my lot, you hear me?”

“Promise,” I said, smirking. “You’re the only woman I let speak to me like that.”

“You better remember it,” she said, the speaker cracked as she flipped her fryer back on. “Now order before I change my mind.”

Maggie leaned close again, her voice sweet but laced with sarcasm. “Hi Linda. I’m Maggie. Not sure what funny business usually happens out here, but I promise I’m just here for the fries.”

A cackle of laughter came through the intercom. “Well, aren’t you polite? That’s new.”

“I’ll have a double deluxe cheeseburger, add bacon and extra pickles… a four-pack of nuggets, small fries, and a large Dr. Pepper, please. And can I get a couple barbecue sauces?”

Linda let out a whistle. “Finally! A woman who knows how to eat. You better hang onto this one, Graham.”

“I’m trying,” I said under my breath, but loud enough that Maggie definitely heard.

She shot me a look, cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t back down. “You got a dessert menu too, or is that considered funny business?”

The intercom crackled with Linda’s cackle again. “Girl, I like you. Tell you what, I’m throwing in a hot fudge brownie on the house. You both seem like you could use a pick-me-up—and no, that’s not me implying anything, Graham.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned closer to the speaker. “Thanks, Ma. Appreciate it.”

“You still owe me for that screen door—and don’t think I didn’t notice your calendar page mysteriously going missing from my fridge.”

I shifted in my seat. “Must’ve been the wind.”

Maggie raised a brow. “Calendar?”

“He’s a model,” Linda whispered like she was sharing all my secrets. “Pretty damn good at it too.”

“Ah, so you have been holding out on me, Officer Locke.”

I shrugged.

“What would you like, Graham, honey?” Linda asked.

“The usual.”

“And to drink?”

“Large ice-tea, please.”

“Alright. $51.73.”

“Jesus. I’ll never get used to these prices,” Maggie said as she settled back into her seat. “I feel bad about ordering so much.”

“Don’t. I told you to get what you want. I meant it.”

I took my foot off the brake and rolled up, the sliding glass window squeaked open, and there she was.

Her thick, silver-streaked curls were piled on top of her head, and the coral lipstick she always wore was a little smudged—probably from the coffee she most likely hadn’t stopped drinking since 5 AM— and rhinestone cat-eye glasses.

She looked the same as she always did for the past eight years.

Maybe a couple more wrinkles, but other than that, she was the same.

She wore a retro diner-style polo with the words Pier 84 embroidered in red, a grease-stained apron tied tight around her middle and a name tag that had long lost the battle with the fryer steam.

The way she lit up when she saw me always made me feel good. It reminded me of the way Nan would greet me as a kid.

I handed Linda seventy dollars. “Don’t you dare tuck the extra into that rusted fishbowl by the register.”

“Oh—hush.” She peered over her cat eyes glasses and gave me that look that said I raised four boys, and none of them were this stubborn. “It’ll be just a moment, dear,” she added before disappearing into the kitchen like a woman on a mission

“So, is she your mom?” Maggie asked.

“No. I wish she were, though.” I said. The words came out faster than I expected.

“You too, huh?”

I glanced over, and for a second, we weren’t just two people chasing a murder case—we were two people with fucked-up families.

She stared out the window now, her voice quiet. “My boss was more of a mom to me than my actual mother ever tried to be.”

That hit closer than I wanted it to. We were both walking around pretending we weren’t still bleeding.

I tapped the steering wheel with my thumb. Like it’d speed up time—or shake off the sudden weight on my chest.

After what felt like forever—ten minutes tops—Linda slid open the window. She handed me both drinks, which I passed to Maggie, then a white plastic bag with Pier 84 stamped on it in big red letters.

“There are straws and napkins in the bag, sweetie.” She said, her warmth beaming from her.

“Thanks, Linda,” I said.

“Yes, thank you!” Maggie gave her a kind wave.

“Have a good night, you two—stay out of trouble.”

And with that, she shut the window and turned off the sign.

“Mind if we park over there?” I asked, pointing to a spot with a view of the moon over the ocean. “I’m not very coordinated when it comes to eating Linda’s burgers on the road.”

“Not at all,” she said, carefully balancing the large plastic cups on her knees.

A row of graffiti-covered wooden posts marked the lot’s edge, each one connected to another by a thick frayed rope threaded through the weathered wood.

We pulled into a spot, and I killed the engine. The smell punched me—greasy bacon, hot fries.

“Mmm—meat.” I said in my best cave dweller grunt, hoping to make her smile. Which it did, and I mentally patted myself on the back.

I handed her the styrofoam container that had her name scrawled on it in exchange for my iced tea.

“Jesus Christ! This thing is huge.” I said opening my container.

Maggie pulled back the waxed paper wrapped around her burger. “I like ‘em big…” She looked at me with a smirk, wiggled her eyebrows, and took a massive bite. She moaned, her eyes rolling back into her head while she chewed.

God, don’t make this sexual, Locke!

“This is sooo good! Thank you!” She said, her words garbled.

“Figured a burger might ground you better than my stellar interrogation skills.”

“Yeah, probably I was getting cranky back there.”

“Makes sense, today’s been long and hard.”

“So… I have a question,” she set her burger back in its container.

“Shoot.” I stuffed the burger into my mouth again.

“Do you… always take your suspects out for a burger after questioning?”

Shit. She was onto me.

I didn’t want her thinking I picked up all my dates at the precinct. I held the bite in one cheek, my words were muffled, “You were hungry… so I fed you. Is that alright?” I asked quickly, chewing then taking another bite before I swallowed.

My eyebrows knitted together as I watched her dunk her fries into the barbecue sauce.

She noticed and turned to me, “What… what is it? Do I have sauce on my face or something?”

I chuckled, “No, I’ve just never seen anyone dip fries in barbecue sauce, that’s all.”

“Seriously—? You have to try it.” She then proceeded to pull out three more fries, dip them and feed them to me all at once.

“Wow, we haven’t even had a date yet, and you’re already hand feeding me. Delicious.” I wiped the corner of my mouth with my thumb.

“Yet?” she questioned, a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth and she brought her drink to her lips.

Too soon, Graham—too soon.

“Just being a silly goose, sorry,” I said and fisted my burger into my mouth.

“No—no! It’s alright, I like this playful side of you.

You should bring it out more often, it’s refreshing to see a man break through the hard exterior and have a little fun.

” She continued and munched her fries. “Your captain could learn a little something from you with his bedside manner… or whatever you call it.”

“Tell me about it. He’s such a fucking hard-ass… I mean he’s more of a by-the-book, guilty until proven innocent kind of guy.”

“And you’re not?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m not… and it pisses him off.

Why should I condemn someone before any evidence is produced saying otherwise?

” I finished my fries in a couple of bites, and downed my drink.

“Probably why I’m not a detective yet. He’s afraid I’ll make him look bad. ” Down went the rest of my burger.

“Jesus. Did you just inhale that?” She asked, her eyes wide.

“Sorry.” I apologized, realizing it might have been considered rude to forgo proper table manners in the vehicle. “I’m used to eating on the run, especially during night patrols, when I don’t get a break.”

“No. It was impressive .” Maggie smiled. “I’ll have to remember it for next time.”

“Next time?” I brushed the salty crumbs from my pants.

“You don’t think you’re buying me dinner without letting me pay you back, do you?” She said, wrapping her burger back up and putting the container in the bag.

“I… uh…”

“Besides, you said we haven’t even been on a date— yet. That implies there’s going to be another time.”

“Well, we will be seeing a lot of each other, I’ve been assigned to be your night watch.” I tapped the bag. “Want your nuggets?”

“Oh, no. Those are for Chester. Sorry—it’s a habit. I always bring something home for him.”

“Chester?”

“He’s my baby.”

She’s got a kid?!

“You left your baby at home?” I started the car, flipped on the lights and siren and peeled out of the lot. “You might not be guilty of murder, but?—,”

“Graham, stop.”

“What?!”

“Chester’s my cat.”

“Christ—I can’t lose another—,” I slammed the brakes. “Wait. What?”

“Graham. He’s a cat,” she said, bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Should I ever pop out a kid, I’m glad to know I can count on you to kick down doors should they be in danger.”

“Nice.” I dropped my head on the steering wheel, heart pounding like a motherfucker.

Rebecca.

My gut twisted.

I hadn’t felt that kind of panic since the day I lost them.