Page 26 of Detective for the Debutante (SAFE Haven Security #3)

MURPHY

“ O ’Connell!”

Fuck. My name ringing from the captain’s office first thing Monday morning can’t be good.

My stomach knots, rebelling at the thought of coffee that sounded so appealing walking through the door.

Captain Overton stands in her office doorway, finger crooked, as she glares at me.

The leftover high from spending the weekend with Leigh fades, and walking toward the captain feels more like I’m walking to my death via public execution than to her office.

The heat of everyone’s attention is focused between my shoulder blades, and my ears grow warmer with every five-hundred-pound step.

When I make it to her office, she follows me in, all but slamming the door behind the two of us.

Fuck.

I’m not sure what the hell happened between Friday and today, but whatever it is, she’s pissed to a point I’ve rarely seen. And it’s never been hurled in my direction before.

My muscles tense, my heart pounding, as I wait for her to take her seat. But when I start to lower to the chair in front of her desk, her look freezes me in place.

“This won’t take long, so you don’t have to worry about sitting down,” she clips out.

I go from somewhat crouched to ramrod straight. The last time that happened was my first day as a brand-new boot.

“You want to explain this to me?” The words are a snarl as she reaches for the stack in her inbox, yanking out two folders and slamming them on the scarred wood in front of her.

Maybe if I were still that same day-one rookie, I would jump. Instead, I crane my neck, reading the names on the folders.

What the hell? I had submitted both of those reports last week after she and I talked about Ellis’s case.

“Cap?” I ask.

“O’Connell, can you explain why when I asked you to double-check your work you ignored my order?”

I had done what she asked.

“Cap, I not only double-checked. I triple-checked.” Because I didn’t want another career criminal like Ellis getting off on a technicality.

“Is that what you want me to tell IA?”

Fuck. Internal affairs.

“What the hell? Why are they involved?”

But I already know the answer to my question.

“Three cases in a week. Both of these have errors in the incident section. The charges we arrested them on were not the ones listed on the report.”

“What?” Grabbing one of the reports, I skim through, recognizing what she just said before reviewing the second and finding the same issue. Plus more issues not as easy to spot. “I didn’t write these.”

“Your name is on the reports.”

Glancing up from the one still in my hand, I step closer to her desk, and drop my voice as a feeling grows in my gut. I’m being set up and I don’t know by who or why.

“Michelle, I didn’t make these mistakes. I know this case”—I lift the manila folder still in my hand— “had three witnesses. I listed all three of them on my report. It’s on my computer.”

“Show me.”

It takes a minute to boot it up after grabbing it from my bag, but once it’s up, I open the file on my desktop I saved as a precaution.

I’ve never been so glad I’m obsessive over saving documents as I am right now.

“Here.” Spinning the laptop, I point to the section still listing the three witness names and contact information.

She’s silent for a moment, skimming through the rest of the report before her attention shifts back to me.

“Is this an earlier report?” She gestures to the manila folder.

“No. I don’t print reports until I file them in the system too.”

She spins back to her computer, pulling up the report in our electronic filing system.

“This matches the report you turned in. There aren’t any witness names.”

“Then someone changed it. I swear to God, I swear on my mother, when I turned it in, this report”—I grab my laptop— “matched what I submitted.” My molars click together, my mind whirring a thousand miles an hour.

Someone wants my cases to be dismissed.

But who? I’m leaving. Everybody knows about my new job in DC.

Why make me look bad now? And if someone wanted to undermine me, why are they doing it in a way that’s putting perps back on the street?

Suddenly the focus I felt on me earlier takes on a whole new meaning.

Any one of my peers could be changing my reports—both electronically and the hard copy file.

But I still don’t have an answer as to why.

“What about the other report?” she asks, nodding toward my laptop.

I pull up the second file and show her the date and time stamp on the saved file before opening it too.

“Son of a bitch,” she murmurs, her fingers moving on the trackpad as she processes what’s happening.

“Can we tell who accessed my reports in the database? These two and Ellis?” I ask.

She hands me back the laptop and I stuff it back in my bag.

“I’ll have to check with IT. Last I heard the only ones who could authorize something like that was IA.”

“And since they’re already involved…”

“They’ve probably already put in the request.”

“How many cases do you think they’re looking at?” The rock sitting in my stomach grows to boulder size.

“You already know the answer. They’re going to be going through everything.”

I flop into the chair in front of her desk, running my hands through my hair.

“I leave in a month, Michelle. I really don’t want IA up my ass for the next three weeks.”

You don’t have anything to hide .

No, but I also don’t have the time it takes to deal with them either. I still have a mountain of cases to get through, and having them comb through every one as I close it is not something I have the energy for.

“I’ll see what I can do. But no promises. I’m taking enough shit from the DA, and I may not have a leg to stand on,” she says.

“Understood.”

She sighs. “You’re a good cop, Murphy. And a hell of a detective.

Which is the only reason why I asked IA if I could meet with you first. These mistakes aren’t like you.

But if enough questions get asked, if there are any more errors in your files—and only yours—it’ll look like you’re slipping. Or something worse.”

Her words coat my tongue in a bitterness I can’t shake despite my attempts to swallow.

“I’m not,” I grit out, hating the implications all of this has.

“And we’re going to have to prove it. Because right now? What’s on your laptop isn’t strong enough to convince anyone otherwise. We need more. I’ll see what I can do. But for now, you need to act like everything is fine. Keep this close to the vest,” she says, freezing me with a look.

I nod.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good. Dismissed.” She shoves the two folders under a different pile on her desk and nods toward the door.

It takes a lot for me to close it calmly behind me when I want to storm into the general office area and start barking questions. I shift my attention around the room, meeting gazes of those present before they break eye contact.

Guilty at being caught eavesdropping? Or guilty of setting me up?

But who would do it?

Bryan? No, he was out all of last week so he couldn’t have changed the reports.

Smith? Henderson? Martinez? Jenkins?

Fuck. I have no idea. And the sensation of something crawling on my skin as I try to focus is making it impossible. With a sigh, I walk to my desk, unpacking my laptop and grabbing the first file on the top of what I had left.

But it’s impossible to focus as the sensation of being watched continues to heat between my shoulder blades. And every time I glance up, no one is looking at me. It’s fucking unnerving. Sliding my chair back, I lock my computer and walk to the break room for some coffee.

My phone vibrates as I walk and I wait until I’m in the break room, cup of coffee in hand before I pull the phone from my pocket and see a text from Leigh.

LEIGH

Good morning.

What time did you leave?

For the first time since I walked into work this morning, the knot in my stomach relaxes and the tension in my skull eases.

Leaving the warm bed with her naked form pressed against mine had been one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in a long time.

But the weekend was over, and I had to go home to get ready for work.

I’d walked out to my car before the sun was up just so I could get to my apartment to shower and change before tackling the traffic downtown. Now I wish I hadn’t left.

It was early.

LEIGH

You could have woken me up.

I can imagine waking her up how I had over the weekend—with my face between her thighs. But I doubt that’s what she meant and I need to concentrate to avoid embarrassing myself at work.

You didn’t need to get up when I did.

It’s not like we got a lot of sleep this weekend.

I lean against the counter, crossing my feet at the ankles as I wait for her response.

LEIGH

I’m okay with that.

I’m even okay with the fact you told me you would cook and we ended up ordering pizza instead.

It’s not MY fault you distracted me.

Every time we headed for the kitchen, my need for Leigh would erase any plans I had of making her dinner. Considering I had delivered her first orgasm in her kitchen, I could easily understand why.

I may need to rethink making her dinner at my place.

Location isn’t going to matter. Not with a woman like Leigh.

LEIGH

Maybe you’re just easily distractible.

Only by you.

It was a true statement. Never in my life had I experienced what I had this weekend—no matter how many times we had sex, it only increased my need for her.

What had started out as a fling, as a scratch to an itch, wasn’t feeling very casual anymore.

My plans to leave on Saturday night had died a fiery death in the wake of her lips around my cock.

Sunday morning, she had wiggled her ass against me while she slept and I was a goner.

Which was why I ended up awake before the ass-crack of dawn.

Because the only thing that could pull me from her side was a job I had dedicated my life to.

I still owe you dinner.

LEIGH

You could come over tonight to cook.

Is that what the kids are calling it these days?

LEIGH

I meant, actually make dinner. We’ll stay in the kitchen the whole time.

You and I both know how good I am in the kitchen, sweetheart.

My dick twitches to life at the memory of the way the sunlight from the kitchen windows hugged her curves on Saturday.

LEIGH

Murphy!

Now I can’t wait for work to be over.

That makes two of us.

Closing my eyes, I lift one hand up to pinch the bridge of my nose before adding to my text.

I’ll need to let you know about dinner tonight though. I may have to work late.

Especially if I am going to try to figure out who is sabotaging my reports.

LEIGH

Okay.

Just let me know.

I will. I’ll call you later.

Have a good day!

I can picture her smile with those words, the one I learned intimately over the weekend. The one that plays on her lips when she isn’t even aware of it. Fuck. My whole body burns with the need to see her again. To be with her.

You too, sweetheart.

The term of endearment comes way too easy when it comes to her.

But I’m not minding it as much as I should have.

My phone is nearly in my pocket when it rings. I half expect it to be Leigh, so am surprised to find the DC number of Rachel Park, the special agent in charge of the task force and my new boss.

“O’Connell.”

“Murphy. How are you?”

“I’m good. Looking forward to starting with the bureau in a few weeks,” I tell her, but the words aren’t as true as they were a month ago.

I’m still excited about the job. But the thought of leaving Leigh is a dark spot in an otherwise amazing opportunity.

“That’s what I wanted to call you about.” She sighs.

The coffee I’ve been drinking curdles in my stomach.

“What about it? The job is still available, right?” I ask, the loosening knot reforming in granite.

“It is. But my leadership is concerned. We received a phone call this morning. About you.”

“Me? From whom?” I ask, even though I already know where this is heading.

“I’m not at liberty to share. But what I can say is my leadership is concerned. I’m concerned. We’ve been told about several discrepancies with your work which resulted in at least one case being thrown out. I don’t have to tell you how important attention to detail is in the bureau.”

Overton had asked me to keep the fact that I was being sabotaged confidential. I trusted her decision, but it still stings to not immediately jump to my defense and my jaw clenches.

“I understand.”

“I wanted to get your side of things so I could better identify what’s going on.”

Glancing around, I don’t see anyone, but still stand and move into the empty room next to Overton’s office. As much as I’d love to share what’s going on, I can’t. Not yet.

“Ma’am, I’m in the process of trying to understand that myself.”

“Are you saying the information we received is false?”

Anger boils under the surface, the need to explain myself crowding my tongue.

“I’ve been asked not to discuss it for the time being, but I will absolutely let you know as soon as I know more.”

“Do you have anything I can pass to leadership?” she asks.

“Nothing concrete. At least nothing yet.” I pace to the window, staring out into the brilliant blue of the summer sky.

“Keep me posted. Leadership is now aware of what’s going on and want me to monitor the situation. If anything else happens, I will have to rescind the offer. It’s not something I want to do, but my hands will be tied.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

That’s what I’ve been afraid of since my conversation with Overton this morning.

“Understood.”

“Good luck, Murphy. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The phone beeps in my ear, and exhaustion hangs heavy around my neck.

I’m barely hanging on to a job offer I’ve wanted since I was in college.

I’m being sabotaged at the job I’ve already given up.

I’ve never relied on luck before. I’ve never needed it.

But maybe my luck is running out.