Page 11

CHAPTER 10

E than’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he hung up the phone. His mind raced to process the call as he accessed Manhattan’s camera system, zeroing in on the street where Star was. The live feed revealed flashing police lights, crime scene tape, and a swarm of activity.

Tracing the system to the mainframe, he hacked in within seconds, pulling video footage of the incident. The angle was poor, offering little insight, so he expanded his search, tapping into storefront security, street cams, and even doorbell feeds. Within minutes, he’d pieced together a patchwork reel of what had happened. Downloading it to a jump drive, he pocketed it.

“Thor, come.”

The dog’s ears perked, and they headed upstairs. Ethan secured his office, grabbed the key Star had entrusted him with, and crossed to her place to fetch her some clothes. Entering her bedroom, he paused, momentarily taken aback. Crisp white walls and carefully matched curtains and carpet greeted him, giving the room a clean, airy feel. The drywall patches peeking through the fresh paint told their story—Star’s DIY charm in action.

At the dresser, he selected jeans, a T-shirt, and—hesitating—a pair of lacy white underwear. Practicality ruled; she'd want something clean if her clothes were ruined. He chuckled softly, his brow lifting. “Commando’s fine for me, but you? Probably not.”

He spotted a small gym bag and, finding tennis shoes inside, remembered socks. A quick return to the dresser produced athletic socks, which he tucked into the bag alongside the clothes.

With a flick, he turned off the light, locked up, and headed to his garage with Thor. The Guardian-issued Suburban roared to life—a rare outing since Ditmas Park was a walkable haven, but the event called for horsepower.

His phone buzzed over the speakers, and he answered without checking the caller.

Max’s voice rang out. “Tapped into NYPD comms. She’s clear—just a witness.”

Ethan’s grip on the wheel tightened. “That’s what the detective said. Found a body.”

“More like body stew,” Max replied with a grim caution. “She’s gonna need therapy after this one, my friend.”

Ethan shook his head. “I swear, how does she manage this?”

“You sure you’re talking about the crime scene or the woman?”

Ethan’s mouth quirked in amusement. “Both.”

“I saw you pulled footage,” Max continued. “Don’t hand it over. Let the cops do their job. It'll raise more questions than answers.”

Ethan’s eyes flicked to the speaker, his voice dry. “You think I don’t know that? It’s a failsafe in case they decide she’s more than a witness. I thought you were supposed to be watching the grid, not me,” Ethan teased.

Max’s grin was audible. “Sue me, it’s a slow day. No Chinese hackers, no Russian skirmishes, and the Middle East is radio silent. Guardian’s running at ninety-five percent. I’m going to tell Jason to have a word with Con and Jewell about those new hires in Ops. They’re making my job too easy.”

“The majority of the teams are solid, but I’m concerned about Viper team,” Max continued, his voice sharp with authority. “Their operator is sluggish—both in response time and methodology. I’m recommending a transfer to domestic operations. There, his meticulous approach could be an asset rather than a liability. What we need are operators willing to bend the rules to get intel fast.”

Ethan nodded. “His handle is Kilroy. I noticed it last night. He acted like someone woke his ass up and he had a hangover.”

Max’s agreement was a low, disgruntled hum. “The teams deserve better.”

“Agreed,” Ethan said. “Check your inbox. I emailed you my assessment already.”

Max chuckled, his amusement tinged with authority. “Next time, don’t just email me. Take action, then tell me about it.”

Ethan nodded. “Noted.” The shift in authority felt significant—the leash loosening. It felt pretty damn good. Now, if only he could figure out how to handle Star and her gift for face-planting into chaos.

“You’ve got a traffic jam ahead,” Max interrupted. “Take your next right.”

Ethan obeyed without hesitation. Years of navigating New York traffic from behind his console had taught him to recognize exactly which system Max was using to direct him.

As he pulled up outside the precinct, he ended the call. “Thanks, Max.”

With the bag in hand and Thor at his side, Ethan dismounted from the Suburban and entered the precinct.

“Yo, man, no dogs allowed!” barked the desk officer.

Ethan replied calmly but firmly, “It’s a good thing he’s not a dog.” Thor, ever alert, stood by his side as Ethan placed the bag on the counter. The dog’s paws thumped against it, and his eyes locked on the officer.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t have wolves in the city. Animal control’s gonna haul him off.”

Ethan’s tone cooled a degree. “He’s my partner. Also, my support animal.” He produced Thor’s paperwork, kept in his wallet for moments like this.

The officer barely glanced at it before tossing it back. “What do you want?”

Ethan’s brow arched. Rude bastard. “Detective Bartholomew asked me to bring clothes for a witness.”

The man chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, you mean the chick who puked on Samson’s shoes?”

Ethan’s eyes sharpened. “Can you take me to the detective?”

The officer leaned back, lazy as a cat in the sun. “I’ll call him. Keep that dog from biting anyone.”

Ethan’s lips twitched, but his voice remained measured. “Thor only bites on command.” The dog dropped from the counter, settling at Ethan’s heel, his gaze never leaving the officer.

“I believe you were about to call Detective Bartholomew?” Ethan prompted, his tone a warning.

“Yeah, yeah,” the officer muttered. “They’re swamped. Might be a while.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Then you should probably call now. Unless you’d prefer I reach out to the chief of police instead.”

The man’s smirk was instant. “Please. If I had a dollar for everyone who claimed they knew the chief.”

Ethan slid his phone from his pocket, scrolling until a familiar name appeared. The chief and his son worked out at Casey’s Gym, and they’d become friendly over the years. He held the screen up. “Want to verify the number?”

The officer’s eyes flicked from the phone to Ethan and back again. His bravado cracked. “No need.” He snatched the desk phone. “Calling Bartholomew now.”

Ethan didn’t move until the officer had finished dialing. Only then did he guide Thor to a corner seat, his attitude blasted cold and sharp as steel. “We’ll wait here.”

A small boy sat with his mother in the waiting room, and his wide eyes locked onto Thor. Despite her efforts to hold him back, the child's fascination was clear.

Ethan offered a reassuring smile. “It’s all right if he comes over. Thor won’t hurt him.”

The mother hesitated, uncertainty flickering in her gaze.

“You’re welcome to come, too,” Ethan added, his tone warm.

With a soft nod, the mother guided her son forward. Thor’s tongue lolled in a doggy grin as the toddler reached out. A gentle lick on the boy’s hand sparked a giggle, and with his mother’s encouragement, he patted Thor’s scruff. The massive dog settled on the floor, lowering himself to the child’s level. The boy, delighted, nestled beside him, fingers sinking into the thick fur.

The mother eased down into the seat next to Ethan. “He’s a beautiful animal.”

“Thank you,” Ethan replied with a touch of pride. “He’s getting old, a little gray around the muzzle, but he’s my best friend.”

“Is he a wolf?” she asked, curiosity lacing her voice. “He certainly looks like one.”

Ethan delivered his standard answer. “Irish Wolfhound and blue German Shepherd mix.” The truth—Irish Wolfhound and timber wolf—remained his secret.

A voice called the woman’s name. She smiled her thanks, scooped up her child, and disappeared through a side door.

A few minutes later, Ethan’s focus sharpened as a man emerged from another office and headed for the front desk. The officer, ever the ass, pointed straight at him.

The man approached, extending a hand. “Detective Bartholomew. You’re Ethan Wolf?”

Ethan’s handshake was firm. “Yes.”

Bartholomew smirked. “Not what I expected.”

“Excuse me?” Ethan’s brow arched.

The detective grinned. “Your neighbor called you a computer security nerd. I added the ‘nerd’ part. Guys like that are usually five foot nothing and scrawny as hell. You’re … not.”

Ethan’s lips quirked. “Haven’t been since the fourth grade.” He lifted the bag. “I brought Star some clothes. I’ll be her ride home. Should we wait here?”

Bartholomew’s eyes flicked to Thor. “He looks like he’s got wolf in him.”

“Irish Wolfhound and blue German Shepherd,” Ethan replied smoothly.

The detective chuckled. “Still looks like a wolf to me. He gonna behave upstairs?”

Ethan scratched Thor’s ears. “He only bites on command—or if someone’s attacking me or Star.”

“Well, then,” Bartholomew said, grinning. “I’ll make sure nobody attacks you. And hey, your neighbor?” He snorted. “Puked on my partner’s shoes. Samson’s a neat freak. She did me a favor—I’ve got a year’s worth of ammo for teasing him.”

Ethan’s laughter rumbled low. “Didn’t know that.”

“What, that Samson’s a clean freak, or that your neighbor redecorated his shoes?” Bartholomew teased.

“Both,” Ethan admitted, enjoying the detective’s easy humor.

The detective led them through a maze of desks and chatter, up a flight of stairs, and into the heart of the precinct. The wide-open bullpen hummed with activity, officers moving from desk to desk.

Ethan’s eyes locked on Star—disheveled but upright, standing by a cluster of desks. She saw him and closed the distance, throwing her arms around him. The stench hit first—foul and undeniable.

Ethan’s eyes watered as he choked, “Dear God, I should’ve brought soap, too.”

Star instantly recoiled, mortification flooding her face. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Ethan pulled Star into his embrace, his voice a low murmur against her hair. “Never be sorry for calling me when you need help. Never.”

He stepped back, lifting her gym bag. “Clothes.”

Star’s eyes flicked to Detective Bartholomew. “Bathroom?”

He gestured toward a door marked “Women.” “Hold up—I’ll get a female officer.”

Star frowned. “Why? I can change on my own.”

“There’s a shower in there. She’ll take your clothes as you change and stand guard so you can shower without interruption.”

Relief softened Star’s expression. “Oh my God, thank you. I was dreading this stench. Who knew a dead body could smell so vile?” She shot Ethan a glance. “Did you?”

Ethan, sparing her pride, shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve experienced it firsthand, though I assumed it’d be … unpleasant.”

Her face darkened, eyes wide with memory. “His face, his eyes—frozen in a scream.” She shuddered, her voice cracking. “I’ll never unsee it.”

A sharp whistle from Bartholomew summoned a female officer. “Hey,” she grumbled. “I’m not a dog. No offense, buddy,” she added, flashing Thor a wink.

“Krista,” Bartholomew said. “Please take her clothes when she gets out of them. The ME wants them, and please secure the bathroom for her.”

“Sure. Follow me,” Krista said, leading Star away.

Thor whimpered softly, and Ethan gave his head a reassuring pat. “She’ll be back, bud.”

Bartholomew waved Ethan toward the desk. “Coffee? Warning—it’s sludge with a side of motor oil, but it keeps us upright.”

Ethan smirked. “Black, thanks.”

The detective grinned, offering a high-five. “My kind of guy. None of that frothy latte nonsense.” Ethan returned the high-five.

A weary voice chimed in. “Some of us prefer our stomach lining intact.” The speaker, a gruff man, rose from his chair.

Bartholomew chuckled. “Ethan, meet Detective Samson.”

Ethan accepted the handshake, firm and steady.

Samson’s eyes narrowed in surprise. “Not the computer geek I expected.”

“Yeah,” Ethan replied dryly. “I got that from Bartholomew.”

Samson offered a chair, and Ethan settled in, Thor flopping beside him.

“I’m shocked they let him up here,” Samson said.

“Emotional support dog,” Ethan replied, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Bartholomew returned, steaming cup in hand. “You need emotional support?” he teased.

Ethan shook his head, lips twitching. “Not me.”

Both detectives laughed. “Smart loophole,” Samson said, rolling his chair closer. “He’s got the look of a wolf, though.”

“Irish Wolfhound, blue German Shepherd mix.”

Samson’s eyes softened. “Can I?”

Ethan nodded. “Go ahead.”

Samson extended his palm for a sniff. Thor’s tail thumped once before a warm lick met his hand. Samson’s face split into what Ethan figured was a rare smile, his hand settling into the dog’s thick scruff, lingering as they chatted.

“Where do I get myself an emotional support dog?” Samson asked, his voice lighter. “This guy just made my whole damn day better.”

Ethan’s voice cut through the moment. “So, what exactly did she find?”

Samson, his hand still buried in Thor’s fur, sighed deeply. “We might have a problem—a big one. Nothing’s hit the media yet.”

Ethan’s tone sharpened. “A problem?” His eyes swept the room, instinct on high alert. “What kind of problem?”

The exchange of looks between Samson and Bartholomew was brief but telling.

“The serial kind,” Samson said flatly. “This goes no further. It’ll be announced in a day or so, I figure.”

Ethan closed his eyes, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “How the hell did Star stumble onto a serial killer’s victim? Wait. Does she know?” Ethan asked, already certain of the answer. Star would’ve been anything but composed if she had.

Samson shook his head. “No. And she doesn’t need to.”

“Then why tell me?”

Samson’s hand paused on Thor’s scruff, his voice weighted with honesty. “Because she’s a good person. She told me trouble finds her—and you get her out of it. Seems like you’re her luck.”

Ethan’s lips tugged into a smirk. “I am lucky. And yeah, trouble finds her. She never goes looking for it.”

Bartholomew chuckled. “Samson’s daughter’s the same way. Always in the thick of it.”

“Not like this,” Samson added. “But Lorelei has a talent for chaos.”

Ethan pointed, his voice playful but firm. “Star and your daughter? Never shall meet. Agreed?”

“Hundred percent,” Samson replied, both hands raised. “The world couldn’t handle that disaster.”

Bartholomew barked a laugh. “God help us if they ever do.”

Ethan’s tone sobered. “Do I need to be worried? Was the body staged—like they wanted it found? Do we need extra measures to keep Star safe?”

“We don’t know.” Samson was honest with him. “What we do know is way too little. The labs are backed up with the cases on priority. It’ll take forever to get the forensics back.”

Ethan could make it move faster. He’d make an offer to the mayor to use the private lab Guardian used, via Guardian email communications, of course, and back brief Jason.

Samson’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “No reason to think she’s in any danger, but then again …”

“You don’t know what you don’t know.”

“Exactly,” Samson said, still petting Thor.

Bartholomew leaned in. “Yo, Samson. Maybe we try a different angle. These sickos get a trip out of watching the cops sometimes. Let’s check whatever photos of our crime scenes and look for the same people.”

Samson’s eyes flicked up. “Yeah. Worth a look. We’ve got no solid leads.” He met Ethan’s gaze. “Can you keep her safe?”

Ethan’s reply was steel-edged. “No one gets past me or Thor to her.”

Samson nodded once. “She’s given her statement. Clothes are going into evidence. We’re pressed for time on this before it hits the press. You good?”

Ethan lifted his coffee from the desk, courtesy of Bartholomew, and took a sip. His face twisted. “Holy hell.”

Bartholomew grinned. “Now you know why some Nancys take ours with cream and sugar.”

Ethan shoved the cup forward. “That’s … awful.”

With a chuckle, Bartholomew dumped Ethan’s and his own into the trash. “More end up in there than down our throats.”

Moments later, Star emerged from the bathroom, fresh from her shower. Her hair was swept back into a ponytail, and she wore the clothes Ethan had chosen. A bright smile lit her face as she approached and wrapped her arms around him.

“Do I smell better?” she teased.

Ethan’s response was immediate and genuine. “Oh God, yes.”

Star crouched to press a kiss to Thor’s muzzle. The dog’s tail pounded against the floor so hard it threatened to crack the wall. His joy was a physical force.

And for one fleeting moment, everything felt right.

Star straightened up, and Ethan reached for her hand, his other hand deftly snagging the gym bag. “Ready to go?” he asked.

Her reply was soft but certain. “I really am.”

Bartholomew, mid-conversation on his phone, held up a finger, quickly ending the call before striding to a nearby closet. He opened it and pulled out two large shopping bags. “Your stuff,” he said, handing them to Ethan.

Ethan transferred the bags into the one carrying the gym bag, his grip finding Star’s hand once more. “Thanks,” he said, his voice warm with genuine appreciation.

Goodbyes were quick, and soon, the trio was escorted out, their steps echoing as they descended the stairs. Ethan opened the SUV at the parking garage, and Thor wasted no time, planting his head over the seat onto Star’s shoulder.

She leaned back, her fingers threading through the familiar fur, scratching his head with a sigh. “Oh my God. What a day.”