Page 34 of White Raven (Nevermore Duet #2)

TOUGH LOVE

“I need access as it pertains to another case,” Foley argued, tapping his fingertips on his desk. “I’m the captain of a precinct, I don’t understand the problem.”

“The problem, Captain, is that these reports were redacted, and that information is sealed. You have about as much clearance as I have authority to release it to you. There’s absolutely nothing I can do. I’m sorry, but that’s the reality of the situation.”

“Who can I speak with that has that authority then?”

“That’s above both our pay grades, Captain Foley. Again, I’m sorry. If there’s nothing else, then I hope your day gets better, and good luck with your case.”

“Thanks for nothing,” he ground out, slamming the desk phone on the receiver.

“Conduct unbecoming…and don’t feel bad. That was used on me recently, too.” He turned in his chair to see Northwood propped against the door frame, her hand still resting on the handle.

“That’s surprising to hear,” he tightened his mouth and tossed a pen he was clicking relentlessly, down on top of the desk.

“No luck with Lindsay’s dirty secrets, then?”

“None.”

It was already a potentially treacherous road…

knowing damned well that what he might find out might have him grieving his partner’s loss all over again, and for completely different reasons.

But somehow, not knowing was a festering pustule that threatened to explode and infect, and dammit, he just wanted to limit the casualties when it did.

Part of him felt hollow with gnawing regret for even asking Rhaena to dig into their vague existence.

Maybe he should just throw in the towel and accept that he was what he was, and it was all he’d ever know.

Maybe it was all they ever truly needed to know.

But the “need to know” fine line of truths never sat well with him in the military, it didn’t sit well with him when Kane and Northwood kept their secrets hidden at his precinct, and sitting on it now didn’t feel good either. Who did it actually help?

“Well maybe I can brighten your day.” Northwood stepped in, closing the door behind her and tossing him a file. He turned it around, opening it and skimmed through the first couple pages.

“This is about your uncle?” he asked, looking up from them to meet her eyes.

“I had sort of a female moment yesterday, and let my emotions get the best of me. I said something that sparked a fire in my mind and did a little digging myself.”

“I’m listening.”

Rhaena scooted one of the chairs out on the other side of his desk and plopped down in it with a sigh.

“My uncle was killed right after he attacked you and your partner. He was hit by a transfer truck. Remember?” Foley nodded, rubbing the scruff of his chin.

“Well…it got me thinking. As long as he’d lived out in the woods…

as long as he’d been alive, he'd been a wolf. I only ever knew him to turn on full moons. You know just as well as I do that we don’t have a lot of control when we change.

But some of our instincts do remain sharp as a tack…

some of those senses even more so when we’re in wolf form. ”

She was onto something. There was a determination in her eyes that he only ever saw when she had a good lead. Hope started flooding his chest.

“My uncle was a brilliant tracker. Some winters, especially when we were broke, had it not been for his expert skills, we might have starved without the game he hunted. He could sense it if I was even thinking about stealing cookies out of the pantry, I swear it. He’d sniff me out in a flat second.

There’s no logical explanation for his sudden lack when there’s a loud ass truck barreling down the nearest road. ”

His brows sprung up on his forehead and he leaned over his desk. “You’ve got my attention. You’d know better than anyone if there was something off about him. What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Look at his blood sample from the autopsy and toxicology reports,” Rhaena nodded towards the file. “Page eight. Tell me what you see.”

Foley turned to the results she specified and narrowed his eyes as he read over it all. Several unidentified samples of DNA were found within blood taken from his body. “Why so many? This looks just like—”

“Like the vampire attacks. Yes. Those vials were tested from blood that was drawn from his remains…not on them. I think at first glance, it could have been overlooked as possible interactions with people throughout the day he’d been killed…but he was carrying this DNA.”

“Like a virus?”

“Like a virus,” she nodded. “I think my uncle may have killed himself.”

Foley leaned back in his chair, dumbfounded. “But why? Why would he do something like that? Especially if he was the only family you knew, and the sole person responsible for caring for you?”

“I think—” Rhaena paused, her skin paling as she swallowed.

“I think he was being hunted. Used like a lab rat. Like Sarah was being used. Somebody was experimenting on him, and he was losing control. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. My uncle taught me to lock myself in so people wouldn’t get hurt.

He killed your partner. He attacked you.

As much as I wish it weren’t true…it likely is.

He killed himself to protect the public from whatever he was becoming, Malcolm. He did it to protect me. ”

This indictment was going far from well.

He had studied up on every possible aspect of this case, and got little to no sleep last night preparing for court.

Brenwick was bringing her best game in there, and C.J.

was less than hopeful that this wouldn’t get pushed to trial.

He had one hour to come up with something to sway the judge, or this goose was cooked. Crunchy, even.

“Man, how you gone survive another minute with this bitch if you can’t even keep the sweat from your pretty-boy forehead?”

Darius Johnson was one of the lowest pieces of shit Brent had ever had the misfortune of meeting, and if the petty insult wasn’t enough to scratch his nerves, the way that he eyed C.

J. was surely setting him off. This room was too small to even pace in and they had to be back in the courtroom in ten minutes.

The lack of evidence was supposed to be enough. He felt so off his game.

“I want another lawyer. How ‘bout your fine ass? Can’t you do somethin’ but sit there and look pretty?” He wagged his brows and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, peeling every layer of C. J.’s clothes off with his beady-ass eyes.

“I’m gonna go ahead and remind you that my …

fine ass… would not be sitting here if you didn’t commit a murder.

I’m only here for him.” She nodded in Brent’s direction, as he made yet another turn by the door and paced back towards her.

“Stratford, wearing out the fucking carpet isn’t doing anybody any favors. ”

“She’s got us by the balls with Carmen’s victim impact statement. The judge is gonna push this case to trial. It doesn’t matter who your lawyer is, Johnson…if that happens, she’s gonna make sure you get life.”

“Not if you do your fuckin’ job . You’re ‘sposed to be one of the best in Boston. Or did ‘yo daddy blow those balls off when he popped a cap in—”

Brent reacted faster than he could register in his mind that this murderer threw the juiciest bait, and he had just chomped on it like a starving animal.

His body slammed against his restrained client hard enough to take the entire chair down with them and his fists went flying, numb with adrenaline to even know how many times his knuckles made contact with Darius’s face.

“Brent!” C.J. screamed, launching from her chair to try and pull him off. He only saw red. At this point it was impossible to tell if it was a haze in his vision, or blood splattering his eyes as he continued to beat the ever-loving shit out of this man. “Brent, stop!”

He heard commotion behind him, and two solid men ripped him away from Johnson’s limp body, jerking his hands behind his back.

The bite of handcuffs around his wrists were tight, and C.

J. stood in horrified shock as he was led out of the room.

The hallways leading past the courtroom were a blur, as were the people he was dragged past. A paramedic rushed by with a gurney, and before he knew it he was being led down the steps out the front of the courthouse and being shoved in the back of a patrol car.

He distinctly heard the sound of cameras flying off before the wave of paparazzi started flooding the sides of the vehicle.

Fucking great. He just single-handedly ruined his own reputation.

He’d gladly take whatever the papers would say if it would spare him from the way the entire 12th precinct stared at him as the officers led him from the elevator past Captain Foley’s office—Rhaena Northwood standing from her chair behind the closed door gaping at him when he raised his head.

He let his attention fall right back to the floor.

That flooring changed to the familiar scuffed white tile of a holding cell, and one of the officers released him from his cuffs as the other one sat him down, saying nothing as they both walked out and locked him in.

He wondered which one of the detectives were gonna come over here first. His money was on Northwood. Sarah had said Kane was on leave. He faintly recalled something about possibly leaving town, and—fuck… Wren …

When Wren Vintorri found out what he’d just done…

“I’m sorry…have I had way too much caffeine this morning, or was that Brent Stratford being brought to holding?

” Jenkins asked, approaching where Rhaena was huddled with the two officers that brought him in, and Captain Foley, who stood like this was the most shocked he’d ever been.

Rhaena turned around while the officers continued to talk to the captain, and bit down on her bottom lip.

He absolutely loved it when she did that.