Page 22

Chapter

Twenty-Two

LOGAN

I stood in front of my Captain’s desk, my hands folded behind my back and my jaw set in a firm line. Every so often my eyes would land on the evidence bag sitting on his desk and my blood would start boiling all over again.

“She’s done, Storm!”

I eyed the man whom I’d respected for the last several years and gritted my teeth. “She’s the only help I have on this case, Captain.”

I watched as he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I get what you’re saying, but her DNA was found at the scene of a murder, Storm. She’s off the case.”

I wanted to punch the wall as I clenched my fists at my sides and let my eyes drop back to the evidence bag again. “She wasn’t there, sir.”

“I don’t give a fuck if she was there or not!” he shouted as his fist slammed down on the wooden desktop. “I’ve had the Commissioner up my ass for the last two weeks and haven’t been able to tell him fuck all about this investigation. Now my lead Detective’s girlfriend’s DNA was at the latest scene of fucking murder. What do you think he will have to say? You’re damn lucky I’m not pulling you off the case as well. If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were thinking with your fucking cock instead of that brain of yours.”

I gritted my teeth. “I’ve never let my cock get in the way of anything. Sir ,” I ground out.

“And that’s the only reason you’re still active on this investigation, Storm.” He pointed his finger at me and narrowed his eyes. “She doesn’t help you. You don’t talk to her about it. You don’t casually mention details or anything regarding this case at all. Do you hear me, Storm? She’s officially in the dark, or you will be joining her there while your badge rots in my desk drawer. Have I made myself understood?”

“Crystal,” I growled.

“Good. Now get the fuck out of my office and catch me a goddamn killer!”

I looked back at the evidence bag that had a long strand of dark red hair that could be no one else’s but Bridgette’s. I wanted to burn the fucking thing, to forget that it existed. How the fuck the killer managed to get my mate’s hair and then plant it in the hand of Mrs. Donaldson was a mystery that I desperately wanted to solve. With one last nod to the Captain, I turned on my heel and stalked out of his office.

I walked past the center of the room where officers and detectives were milling about or pretending to work. I wasn’t stupid. I knew the reason why there were so many more bodies standing around was because they’d heard the news that one of our own had a girlfriend who was associated with a murder case. The stupid fucks were placing bets on whether or not Bridgette was a goddamn serial killer.

I heard a snicker and jerked my head around to see who the fuck thought that my life was a fucking joke. Nothing about this situation was funny. While these idiots were thinking that it was hilarious that a homicide detective was fucking a serial killer they failed to see that Bridgette wasn’t a fucking suspect. No. The fucking killer basically painted a bullseye on her forehead. And now my Captain thought it was wise to cut her out of the investigation altogether, all because his boss said so.

No one was looking at me when I turned on my heel, all pretending to be working. I turned in a circle. All I could do was glare in warning. I needed one motherfucker to challenge me so I could let some of the frustration out that was building inside me. I felt like a pressure valve that was ready to explode.

After shooting one last snarl at a beat cop who had no business being on this floor, I turned back, heading in the direction I had been going. I slammed into the men’s restroom, not caring that the door hit the wall so hard that bits of plaster rained down from the place the door handle had impacted.

I turned on the tap and splashed cold water on my face. As I was drying the water droplets off with a paper towel, I felt my phone buzz with an incoming text. I tossed the damp towel in the garbage and reached into my pocket, withdrawing my phone. I growled when I saw another text from Kristy. The woman had been texting and trying to call for the last several weeks, and I had ignored every single one of them. I usually didn’t even bother to look at them before I deleted whatever bullshit she tried to spew. I shoved my finger over the delete button when what she had written caught my eye.

Kristy: Please, Logan! I really need to talk to you!

I snorted and deleted the text, but another popped up as soon as the first had disappeared.

Kristy: I’m pregnant. I really need you.

I froze for a moment as I stared down at the words. While we had been married, the topic of having a baby had only come up a few times. Once, while we were dating, Kristy had mentioned that she wanted a lot of kids. Since I wasn’t opposed to the idea, I had agreed that when the time came to start a family, I would be on board. I loved kids and would love to have my own.

The next time it was brought up was by Kristy’s mom, asking when we were going to start a family. I got the impression that Kristy had put her up to it with the way they kept giving each other looks. The question had come from left field, since Kristy had never given me any inclination that she was ready to start a family yet. It was when my mother-in-law started telling me that, as a father, I needed to be home more often and present in our future children’s lives, that I began to understand.

Kristy had told me she was proud of my job and enjoyed being a cop’s wife. But she had never been supportive when it mattered. If I were called out in the middle of the night, she would give me the silent treatment the next day. If I had to miss dinner or work longer hours because of a case, she would rage at me for choosing work over her.

When Kristy’s mom had brought up children and expressed her displeasure at me not being around enough, I’d set down my fork and thanked her for a lovely meal before excusing myself from the table.

Kristy followed me out to my truck, demanding to know where I was going. I told her that she should get a ride home from her mother. I had a case I was working on. Was it a shitty thing to do? Yeah. I could look back and say that I hadn’t done the right thing that night. When I got home later, Kristy was waiting for me in bed, wide awake.

“Where have you been?” she demanded as she tossed her phone on the nightstand. I could tell she was gearing up for a fight, likely had been since I drove off.

I let out a heavy sigh as I shrugged out of my shirt and tossed it into the clothes hamper. “Can we not do this right now, Kris? I’m exhausted. We found the body of a missing girl tonight, and I had to tell her parents.”

“Are you serious right now?” she screeched, making me want to poke my eardrums out with a pencil. “You care more about a dead little girl than having your own child? What about me? Am I never going to have a child because you are too busy taking care of everyone else’s dead children?”

I looked at my wife as she stared up at me from our marriage bed. She had promised to support my career. She had told me that she was proud of what I’d accomplished so quickly since I’d chosen to become a homicide detective. Instead, she was giving me shit for being good at what I did.

“Kristy,” I started, choosing my words carefully, but knowing deep inside my gut that it wouldn’t matter what I said to the woman. Kristy had chosen her path that night and was steadily hiking up it. “The two have nothing to do with each other. To say that about a young girl who went through what she did,” I shook my head, wanting to tell her it was insensitive and heartless, but knew it would end in the worst fight of our lives. “It’s my job, Kristy. Someone has to give the victims justice. That little girl’s parents need answers so they can lay her to rest.”

Instead of raging, Kristy’s lip started trembling as her big brown eyes filled with tears. “But why does it have to be you , Logan? I miss you! I want to start the family we talked about. Remember? You said you wanted a big family? We need to start now before it’s too late!”

I shook my head at the way Kristy had the ability to rewrite history when it suited her. “Kris, we aren’t that old. There’s still plenty of time. But,” I cut in before she could get worked up again, “if you are ready, all you had to do was talk to me. Having your mother ambush me the way she did tonight was not the way.”

She had the grace to look abashed for all of three seconds before jutting her chin out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My mom didn’t ambush you. She was simply asking about grandchildren, the way all older women do. She’s worried that she’ll be too old to play with them by the time you’re ready to settle down.”

“Settle down? Kris, honey, we are already ‘settled down’, that’s what marriage is. If you want kids, then we can start trying.” I figured that at that point, there was no sense in waiting. Agreeing to have a child to end an argument wasn’t something I wanted to do, ever, but I liked kids and knew they would be welcome no matter what.

Her face lit up, and she crawled out from under the blanket, her lacy pink nightie showing off all her generous assets. “Are you going to quit your job so you can be home more?”

I snorted, unable to stop my reaction, which was the very worst thing I could have done. “Why would I do that? I love my job and I’m damn good at it. I can be a dad and still find killers, Kristy. Those two things are not mutually exclusive.”

“Logan—”

“I said no, Kristy.”

Her eyes narrowed as she sat back on her heels. “What did you just say to me, Logan Storm?”

I let out a heavy sigh and ran my hand through my hair, tugging on the ends in frustration. “Kristy, you’re not going to bully me into quitting the force.”

“I had no intention of making you quit the force. There are jobs you can do that will bring you home every night. With your seniority, you could work daytime hours as a beat cop again.”

“Not only no, but fuck no. Not happening. End of discussion.” Instead of continuing to argue, I stalked into the bathroom, frustrated as hell that my wife was trying to manipulate me. As I closed the door behind me, I heard something heavy hit the door.

“You’re going to regret this, Logan!” Kristy screamed a few more insults as I stood there with my hands braced against the door and my head hanging down as I stared at the floor. It was only a few weeks later that I found out she was in the middle of a hot affair with some guy. I immediately began gathering evidence and prepared my escape from the marriage.

Staring down at the text message of her telling me she was pregnant and needed me, a disbelieving chuckle escaped at her audacity. I could only guess what she was thinking. I hadn’t kept up with her life since we split, hadn’t cared what she’d done or who she was with. She’d made her bed, and I was happy to let her lie in it. The problem was that Kristy thought she could manipulate me into giving her what she wanted, always had. Before, if it wasn’t a big deal, I would give in without argument. Since she was no longer my problem, I couldn’t give less of a fuck that she was pregnant, nor did I care who’s child it was.

The one thing I knew was that I wasn’t the father since I hadn’t fucked her since before the night of the fight. After that night, Kristy thought that she could give me the cold shoulder and that freezing me out would make me give in to her demands. All she’d accomplished was driving a wedge between us so big that a semi could drive through it while dumping piles of divorce decrees in the abyss.

I decided that continuing to ignore the woman was the best call, and even went to her contact information so I could block her once and for all. Honestly, I should have done it months ago. As I scrolled down to the bottom of her contact information, my phone rang and I let out a curse, thinking that it was Kristy again, but grinned when I saw it wasn’t my ex at all.

“Hey, little witch.”

“Hey, Detective.” Bridgette sounded tired, and I doubted that she got much sleep after I left her in the middle of the night. “I was thinking about something. The murder case. Something had been bugging me about it and I-”

I closed my eyes at what I had to do until I could fix the fucking mess my Captain had put me in. “Sorry, Bridgette. I have to stop you there. I can’t talk to you about the case anymore. I’m under orders to keep you out of it completely.”

“Wait. Are you serious, Logan?” she asked, her tone full of incredulity. I grimaced.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, little witch. I was threatened to be pulled off the case, too, if I shared any details with you about it.” I hated every word and wanted nothing more than to pull them back. I knew Bridgette was vital to the investigation. She had information about things that I didn’t know. Her knowledge was indispensable and vital to the case. “Listen, I’m going to do what I can to get my Captain to change his mind, okay? Until then, hold on. Tell me later.”

Her voice was quiet as she responded, and I hated it. “Okay, Detective. I understand.”

I yanked at my hair, then ran a hand through it. “I have to go. I will see you in a few hours. Be safe for me. Okay?”

“Okay, Logan. See you soon.”

I stood there staring down at the black screen of my phone after she hung up. Then, I pulled back my fist and hit the wall.