S. Carved – Chapter Eight

NOT EDITED

Chapter Eight

Dallas endured Bo’s silence for nearly an hour before Mister Richardon finally came out with the security footage they needed. The drive back to the police station had been silent, as had the walk through the parking lot, and Dallas followed Bo all the way to the stairs before the shorter man stopped and turned to face him.

“You don’t have to come with me.”

“Do you want me to?” Dallas asked.

“I don’t much care either way. It’s up to you.” Bo turned and headed down the stairs.

Letting out a harsh breath, Dallas followed him. “What’re you going to do?”

“Check to see if we have a match with the DMV’s records.”

“And then?”

“If we do, I will give you that name.”

Despite the words sounding condescending, Bo managed to speak them in the same way he said everything else. They were matter-of-fact and far from being a way to look down on Dallas. It was an odd balance to walk, but as far as Dallas could tell, Bo seemed entirely unaware that it could be taken another way by someone looking to be offended.

“You wanna watch the security footage with me?” Dallas asked.

“If you feel you need a partner for that, yes, I will watch the footage with you.”

“Do you… enjoy watching them?”

Bo unlocked the lab and opened the door. After flipping on the light, he answered with a quiet, “Yes.”

“Sweet. You wanna watch it down here? That way you don’t have to be upstairs with the Saturday day shift?”

“If you would like to do that, we can.” Bo set his camera bag on the floor and lifted his satchel over his head, setting it on the table. “I apologize for involving myself in your life. It won’t happen again.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong by asking questions, Austen. I’ve been sleeping like shit for over two weeks. You asking questions and writing at the same time just… set something off in my head.”

“My apologies.”

“It’s not your fault I haven’t been sleeping, either. You didn’t do anything wrong. You have nothing to apologize for, not to me.” Dallas set the security footage on the counter, hanging back to give Bo as much space as he wanted. “You were asking about avier, not me. Were you trying to figure out if you were both awkward for the same reason?”

Bo glanced up at him. “Yes.”

“Were you… abused?”

Bo cleared his throat. “My biological parents were far from fans of being ‘blessed’ with an… above average child. As I recall, my mother is the only one who ever physically laid a hand on me.”

“She beat you for being smart?” Dallas asked. Rather than responding, Bo lifted his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Austen. I mean, that…”

Okay, compromise. We kill Austen’s mother, Ed suggested.

Might take you up on that one. “I’m sorry you went through that, Austen. No child deserves any of that.”

“You and your brother know that first hand.”

“Yeah, guess we do.”

Bo nodded.

Finally, Bo’s silence in Mister Richardson’s lobby made sense to him. He hadn’t wanted an apology. Hell, he probably hadn’t even considered himself worthy of one, since he had seen himself as the problem. Instead, more than likely, silence had been his way of avoiding conflict with his biological mother. Bo’s awkwardness was amplified anytime he opened his mouth, and if his biological mother had already hated him, speaking would’ve made it worse. Bo’s silence was his coping mechanism, his submission to end the abuse, to end the situation he didn’t want to be a part of.

Dallas made a mental note of that. If Bo’s silence lasted for any prolonged period of time, it was because he needed an escape from the conversation or situation he had found himself in.

“So… DMV,” Dallas said.

Bo nodded. “Let me check the computer.”

“Sure, man.”

Bo cleared his throat. “The… the computers are upstairs. I’ll be back in a moment if you’d like to stay here.”

“I’ll stay here. Unless me coming with better fits your pattern.” Bo simply shook his head. “Okay. I’ll be here.”

Hands tucked behind his back, Bo stepped past him. For the first time, Dallas let himself truly take in the lab. The damn thing was spotless, immaculate. Every item on the counters and tables seemed to be in their designated place, straight and lined up against the wall. The floor was free of dust or dirt, despite how many times Bo must have walked into the lab straight from an outside crime scene.

Dallas occupied himself with nothing but Ed’s pleas for murder for nearly twenty minutes before Bo came back, a single piece of paper in his hand. He gave it to Dallas and walked back to the table at the other end of the room.

Dallas shook out the paper. “Robert Sawyer, twenty-two years old. Jesus. He started doing this symbolism shit when he was pretty damn young.”

“Yes.”

“So… if it’s a cult–you know, if that’s the theory we hypothesize on here–he’s definitely not the leader of it.”

“ ‘Definitely’ is a strong word in regards to such a hypothesis. Age isn’t an end all, be all situation. The main aspect in regards to leadership is, in all honesty, charm. One must be considered charming by others before they can lead a cult of people toward a unified belief. After that, so long as the charm exudes confidence and promise of great things, people will flock, and they will follow.” Bo cleared his throat, shifting his weight between his feet. “Though… I will agree that it’s unlike he’s the leader. It’s doubtful he’d be the only cut-up corpse on the beach if he was their leader.”

“Like the Jonestown guy, yeah?”

Bo nodded. “Yes. If the leader must go down, they all do.”

Dallas set the paper on the counter and reached up to adjust the strap of his sling. “Security footage, then?”

“We can watch it together if you’d like to, but you should alert his family of his death first.”

“Yeah, not a bad call.”

Bo nodded toward the counter. “The paper I gave you includes his last known place of residence. With his age, there’s a relatively good chance that residence belongs to his parents.”

“Good place to start, if nothing else.” Dallas grabbed the paper. “Did you, uh, ever attend a notification of death with your favorite officer?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m no more experienced in that than you are.” Bo shifted uncomfortably. “I can still go with you, though, if that’s something you would prefer.”

“That’d be appreciated, Austen.”

Bo nodded. “Will you give me a moment to mark the security footage as evidence before we leave?”

“Yeah, of course.” Dallas grabbed the tape and took it over to Bo. “Record whatever you need to. I’m gonna stop by my desk and grab my notepad. So I’ll just wait for you up there?”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Great. I’ll meet you up there when you’re ready to go.”

“Okay.”

Dallas took a step back, clearing his throat. “Hey, uh, look, I don’t wanna overstep, but… if you don’t wanna sleep here tonight and you can’t sleep in an empty house, I’ve got a couch you’re more than welcome to. You know, until your analyst gets back.”

Finally, Bo met his gaze. It was brief, but Dallas was certain it had happened. “What would you expect in return?”

“You to drop the ‘Mister’ you’ve started putting in front of my name.”

“I appreciate the offer. I… will take it into consideration.”

Dallas smiled. “Works for me. Take your time, and I’ll be upstairs till you’re ready to head out.”

“And then where?”

“Hopefully the parking lot.”

A faint smile tugged at one corner of Bo’s mouth. “I would agree with that plan. I won’t be long.”

Dallas gave him a two-fingered salute and walked out of the lab. He figured Bo would never realize it, but not immediately rejecting Dallas’s offer was damn good progress. Maybe finding something more on the ‘common ground’ scale had helped.

Or he senses we’re monsters and totally wishes he were dead. He just wants us to expedite the process, Ed said.

Or, he senses that you’re an asshole, and he’s going to do us all the favor of killing us both.

Ed only laughed his response.

***

Dallas walked up the stairs of Robert Sawyer’s last known residence, Bo a good two or three feet behind him. Dallas let out a harsh breath before knocking on the door. It wasn’t long before a woman opened it. She eyed Dallas, gaze settling on his badge for several seconds before her gaze shifted to Bo.

Finally, her eyes lifted to Dallas’s face. “Can I help you?”

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Officer Silver from the LAPD. This is the last known residence of Robert Sawyer. Do you, by any chance, know him?”

“I-I’m his mother.”

“Miss Sawyer, I’m very sorry to tell you this, but your son was found dead yesterday morning.”

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Chapter Seven

Chapter Nine

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Books & Badges – Chapter Thirty-Four

NOT EDITED

Russell came to again for what felt like the millionth time. He’d been in and out of sleep ever since he had handed Super Mario Bros over to Theodore and Vera, taking his choice of Luigi out of the game. He cleared his throat, reaching out for his beer. Theodore sat between his legs on the couch. With the footrest kicked out, there was more than enough room for them both, giving Vera the other half of the couch.

“You were out for quite a bit that time,” Theodore said.

“Mm.” Russell took a sip of his beer. “Was I?”

“Yeah. Long enough to start snoring.”

“Sorry about that.”

Theodore shook his head. “You’re cute when you snore.”

Russell smiled, bowing his head to kiss Theodore’s shoulder. “Thank you.” He leaned back against the couch, gaze falling to his watch. “You gettin’ tired, Vera?” he asked.

“A little.”

“Yeah. It’s just about your bedtime.” Russell scrubbed a hand over his face. “You headin’ home tonight, Theo?”

“Do you want me to stay?” Theodore asked.

Russell snorted. “You’re turning my question tactic back on me.”

“Duh.”

“I’d love for you to stay, but I don’t want you to screw up your hip.”

“I can manage a night,” Theodore said.

Russell nodded. “You and Vera can have my bed. I almost never sleep in it, anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. And then I can take you guys home tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Russell mumbled.

Theodore reached back and patted his cheek. “Let’s finish up this level, okay, sweetheart? And then we’ll get you ready for bed.”

Vera nodded. “Okay, Daddy.”

***

Russell awoke to Theodore climbing onto the couch. “Hey,” Russell whispered, his voice rough. “Where…? What time is it?”

“Little after two,” Theodore said, his voice soft. He leaned his cane up against the end table before leaning back against Russell. “Vera’s been asleep for a while, so I figured I’d come back out here, snuggle up with my own personal heater.”

“Mm.” Russell wrapped his arms around Theodore. “Sure you wanna sleep reclined like this? I can readjust and lay down instead.”

“This is fine, Russ. Promise.”

“Okay,” Russell whispered. He yawned, dropping his head to the back of the couch again. “Night, Theo.”

“Night, Russell.”

***

The alarm on Russell’s watch was its own form of incessant hell. With a groan, he pressed the button on the side to shut it off. He pulled open the end table drawer and grabbed the orange pill bottle from inside. “Look at that. First time you’re getting taken on time in a while,” he whispered.

“You should not be drinking while you’re on that.”

Russell tilted his head back to meet Theodore’s gaze. “Where’d you come from?”

“Kitchen. I started coffee.” Theodore leaned down, wrapping an arm around Russell’s shoulders. “What’s your poison?”

“Lexapro.”

Theodore smiled faintly. “Me, too.” He pressed a kiss to Russell’s temple. “You know you’re gonna be dizzy and drowsy all day, right?”

“Yeah. Beer was a bad choice but… last night was a bad night.”

“I know, Russ.” Theodore rubbed his hand over Russell’s chest in a small circle. “Depression or anxiety?”

“Both.”

“Me, too.” Theodore dropped his chin to Russell’s shoulder. “It seems to be working for you.”

“It does. Took a couple tries to get there, of course.” Russell reached up and patted Theodore’s cheek. “Come on. I need water. And… I need to get you home to take yours?”

Theodore smiled. “I brought mine with, and I’ve already taken it.” He smacked Russell’s chest. “Bring them with you from now on. If you’re only taking them on time when you’re sleeping here on the couch, you aren’t doing yourself any good. You don’t have to be ashamed of taking them, obviously.”

“I’m not. I just forget to grab them.” Russell closed the footrest and pushed himself to his feet. “After coffee’s ready, we’ll head on out to your place. I’ve got nothing for breakfast here, so we can grab something on our way to the school.” A pause. “Assuming… that you’d be okay with me taking Vera to school and you to work?”

Theodore nodded. “Works for me. Take your meds, and I’ll go wake up Vera. Back in a few.”

Russell squeezed Theodore’s hand as the shorter man walked out of the room. Russell shook a pill into his palm and tossed the bottle back into the drawer. In the kitchen, he downed it with a sip of water.

Letting out a long breath, he tilted his head back against the cupboards. His head was already killing him from the hangover alone. Stack alcohol-versus-Lexapro dizziness on top of the hangover, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

But that wasn’t an option. He had a case to work. He had justice to serve. He had two deaths to avenge.

Crawling into bed and blocking out the world would have to wait.

***

With Vera dropped off at school, Russell pulled into the parking lot of the book store and parked as close to the building as he could. “Well, here we are.”

Theodore nodded, taking off his seatbelt. “So… what’re you gonna do today?”

“Got a couple things in mind, but I’m planning on starting with, umm… with questioning the people the guns were stolen from. I can’t access the reports on those missing weapons without contacting the police department, and I have to do that through my lieutenant. If he doesn’t find out about Lauren’s part in this… Well, that’s for the best.”

“Yeah. Definitely for the best.” Theodore reached over and laid a hand over Russell’s. “You stay sane today, okay?

One corner of Russell’s mouth lifted. “I’ll do my best.”

Theodore laid a hand on one side of Rusell’s face, leaning over to kiss the other. “I’m here if you need me. Call, text, lunch. Whatever you need, okay?”

“All right, Theo.” Russell lifted a hand to cover Theodore’s. “Thank you for letting me drive you and Vera today.”

“Thank you for being willing to.”

“Of course,” Russell said softly. “Have fun at work. Smell the books and talk to people and… and enjoy yourself today.”

“I’ll do my best.” Theodore poked his chest. “You… I know you can’t have fun at work right now, but just make sure you survive it. And no drinking tonight. You and your meds need a break from yesterday.”

“I know. Thank you.” Russell leaned over and pressed a kiss to Theodore’s forehead. “Text me if you need a ride after work. Benefits of being a detective, I guess. Even when I’m not at my desk, I’m still working.”

“I will. See you tonight, Russell.”

Russell nodded. “See you tonight, Theo.”

***

“Russell.”

The detective lifted his head, hand frozen over his desk phone. “Lieutenant.”

Marcus cleared his throat. “I’d like you to come with me to my office, Russell.”

“Is everything okay?” Russell asked.

“Yeah, but I think we need to have a little talk. And I think you know why.”

Russell pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. Hands shoved into his pockets, he followed Marcus through the detective desks and back to his office.

Marcus gestured to the chairs before his desk, closing the door with his free hand. “Go on and have a seat, Russell.”

Russell crossed the room, lowering himself into the chair closest to the door. Marcus rounded the desk and sat down. “What’s up, Loo?” Russell asked.

“I’ve been informed… that you’ve been looking through Lauren’s case file.”

“I…” Russell closed his eyes. “I have, yeah.”

“You know there are multiple reasons as to why you cannot do that, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m half-tempted to pull you off Vince’s case, but from your progress report yesterday, I believe you’re doing a damn fine job. But still… what the fuck are you doing messing around in Lauren’s file?”

“The guy who killed Vince killed Lauren, too.”

“Russell,” Marcus whispered.

“He did! I swear, Marcus, I can prove it to you.”

Marcus sighed, folding his arms over his chest. “Are you sure this isn’t another one of your… moments?”

“I am not having a breakdown. Pardon me for being mentally unsound when they were accusing me and actively investigating me for gunning down my own fucking partner.”

Marcus held out a hand. “All right. You’re right. I’m sorry.” Gently, he swept his hand through the air, palm facing the ceiling. “Go on, then. Prove the similarity to me,” he said.

“For real, or are you humoring me?” Russell asked.

“For real. You’ve always been a good detective, Russell. You’ve always been a good cop. If you think there’s something that connects them, I’d be an idiot not to listen.”

Hesitantly, Russell nodded. “Lauren and Vince were both off-duty. Yeah, Vince was retired, but he was still ‘off-duty’. They were both shot in the back six times. Neither of them were robbed, even though Lauren had just been out shopping. Both of them were missing their badges. They were both shot with stolen weapons. The shooter in both cases is estimated to be between six-foot and six-foot-two. Those are my similarities so far.”

Marcus nodded, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “Those are some… compelling coincidences.”

“Coincidences?”

“I’m not saying it’s not the same guy, Russell. I can’t determine that. But right now, they’re circumstantial.”

“Of course they are. I’m not done investigating.”

“Right.” Marcus cleared his throat. “Next time, just let me know you’re connecting the dots, especially when it’s a case you were a suspect in.”

“Unrightfully so.”

“I know. Point is, when you need something for a case, get it yourself, and if no one will fulfill that request, just talk to me. I can’t have you working a case if you’re constantly fearing that I’m gonna pull you off of it. I need you to feel comfortable working the case. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Marcus nodded. “All right, Russell. You’re dismissed. Good luck with this case. And if you ever start to feel like… you can’t do this anymore? You let me know.”

“I will, sir. Thank you.” Russell pushed himself to his feet and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him. On his way back to his desk, he stopped at Emilia and Andrew’s desks. “Where’s Emey?”

“Umm…” Andrew lifted his head, coffee mug held to his lips. “Good question. Break room, maybe?”

Russell nodded. “When she gets back, please tell her that I appreciate the concern, but I don’t need Loo thinking I’m having a fucking breakdown, too.”

Andrew held up a hand, setting his coffee mug back on his desk. “Breakdown? Russ, take a seat, talk to me.”

Against his best judgment, Russell sat down in the chair in front of Andrew’s desk. “I’m working on Vince’s case.”

“I had heard that. I can’t even imagine how difficult that is for you.”

Russell nodded. “Yeah, well, multiply it by the fact that the guy who killed Vince killed Lauren, too.”

“Jesus, Russ,” Andrew whispered.

Again, Russell nodded. “I told Emey about it so she could get Lauren’s case file for me.”

“Did she?”

“Yeah. And then she reminded me of all of my previous hard times and told me to keep my head on straight so it doesn’t happen this time, too. I promised her I’d be fine, but it seems she told Loo about it, anyway, who asked me if I was sure this wasn’t one of my ‘moments’.”

Andrew let out a harsh breath. “Loo… should know better than that. And I’m sorry about Em. She loves you, Russ. You’re like a damn brother to us both. I’m sure she wasn’t seeking to hurt you. She couldn’t have known Loo would talk to you.”

“Since… she happened to ditch before I came outta his office, I have a feeling she knew.”

“I’m sorry, Russell,” Andrew said softly. “You know Em. She wants to help people whenever she can. Sometimes it’s just… Sometimes, it doesn’t go how she planned it to. It’s not malice on her part.”

“I know. It’s her moral compass telling her what to do. So just… let her know that I’ll keep the case to myself on this one. I love her, but I can’t have her jeopardizing Vince’s or Lauren’s justice because she thinks she’s doing me a favor,” Russell said. “I have no… ill will held against her. Just let her know, please?”

After a moment, Andrew nodded. “Okay.” He leaned to the side, grabbing Russell’s hand as the detective rounded his desk. “If you need to talk and you truly don’t feel comfortable sharing it with Em, I’m your guy. Okay? No matter what.”

“Thank you.” Russell patted the back of Andrew’s hand, taking a small step to the side once Andrew let go of him. “When you tell Emey about the, uh, leaving her out of the case thing, make sure to include the fact that I’m not mad at her. I just don’t want to talk to her… right this instant.”

Andrew nodded. “I’ll make sure that’s clear.” He let out a breath. “Good luck, Russell. Seriously, I’m hoping for the best with this one.”

“You and me both, Andy. You and me both.”

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Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Five

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Books & Badges – Chapter Thirty-Three

NOT EDITED

Theodore thanked Gina with a wave and headed up to the house, Vera’s hand held tightly in his. Eventually, he planned to start driving again, even if the pain wasn’t great for his hip. Though he more than appreciated Gina’s help, having her pick him up in the mornings, take Vera to school, pick her up from his parents’ place after school, and drop them both off at home felt like asking for far too much. He did his best to take comfort in the fact that Gina had been the one who had offered to drive him around, but it didn’t make the guilt go away.

“Here, baby,” Theodore said softly, handing the house keys over to Vera. She grabbed the keys and happily unlocked the front door. It was one of the tasks she had picked up after Theodore’s stay in the hospital. His parents had helped her figure out several new tasks she could do to help Theodore throughout the day. Since she loved being his little helper, he did his best to let her help as often as she wanted.

“Any good ideas for supper?” Theodore asked.

“Fish sticks?”

“Fish sticks, it is.” Theodore closed the door, leaning back against it as he kicked off his shoes. He barely made it into the kitchen before his phone dinged with a text. He pulled it from his pocket and unlocked the screen.

Russell: I hate to do this last minute, but I don’t think I can come over tonight. I think being around people is too much for today.

Theodore: Are you sure? I thought being alone would be the worse of the two.

Russell: I’m inclined to try and force myself to appear happy when I’m around others. I don’t have the energy to do that today

Theodore frowned. He wouldn’t pretend he knew better than Russell what was good or bad, but when it had come to his own despair, being alone had been much worse than being around people. Being alone had allowed him to be lost with his own dark and dangerous thoughts, and it had been far from good for him.

Theodore: If you think that’s what’s best for you, I won’t pester you about it. But I know for me? Being alone was just about the worst thing I could’ve possibly done. I don’t want you to be alone if it could be bad for you that way, too.

Russell: Not great, no. But I don’t need you or Vera seeing me fucked up.

Theodore: Fucked up?

Russell: I’m drunk

“Ah,” Theodore whispered.

Theodore: You’re a well-constructed drunk

Russell: Ha. I guess drunk is a strong word. I’m buzzed.

Theodore: Is buzzed you still good at playing Mario on the Wii?

Russell: Buzzed me is an incredible gamer

Theodore: How about we come over there for tonight? For a few hours, if nothing else. I’ll bring food to throw in the oven, and you can teach us to play Mario.

Russell: I’d like that

Russell: The idea of being here with me doesn’t make you feel unsafe?

Theodore: It puts me on edge, but it doesn’t make me feel like I’m in danger.

Theodore: Gina’s seen you at the bar. You’re not a violent drinker. You’re a drinker who wants to karaoke and play pool.

Russell: That is ALSO something buzzed me is incredible at. On both counts

Theodore snorted. “Hey, Vera? How do you feel about taking the bus with me to go to Russell’s?”

“We’re going to Russell’s?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Why?”

“Well, he always comes over here. We can return the favor every now and then.”

“Okay. We’ll eat there?”

Theodore nodded. “I’ll bring the fishsticks and warm them up at his place. And, bonus, he’ll teach us how to play Mario.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Vera smiled. “Awesome. Do… we need to bring anything?”

“Just in case we… stay the night, I’ll help you pack a bag, okay?”

“Okay.”

Theodore touched a hand to her shoulder. “How about you go find what PJs you’d like to wear tonight?”

She nodded. “Okay, Daddy.”

Theodore let out a breath, eyes falling back to his phone.

Theodore: We’ll be there soon. Okay?

Russell: Okay. I’ll be here.

***

An hour and a half later, Theodore walked up to Russell’s house, Vera’s hand in his. “Go ahead and knock, baby.” Vera knocked on the door before taking a step back to stand beside her father again.

It wasn’t long before Russell opened the door. He looked exhausted, and his hair was disheveled, but he still looked like Russell. His eyes and smile were dimmer than usual, but he still looked like Russell. “Hey.” He cleared his throat. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. Passed out on the couch.”

“Not at all. You’re fine,” Theodore assured.

“Awesome,” Russell whispered. He stepped back, pulling the door open the rest of the way. Theodore walked inside, Vera right beside him. Russell closed the door, clearing his throat again. “If you guys wanna kick off your shoes, I’ll take you to the living room so Vera can watch TV for a bit, and then I’ll take you to the kitchen so you can make… food?”

“Food,” Theodore confirmed. After kicking off his shoes and helping Vera with hers, he lifted his eyes to Russell’s face. “Lead the way, Russ.”

Once Vera was set up with her YouTube ghost hunters in the living room, Theodore followed Russell into the kitchen. He took the fishsticks out of the small cooler hanging from his shoulder and stuck the box in the freezer. After setting the cooler on the floor, he pressed his hands to Russell’s chest. Gently, he pushed him back against the counter. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

Russell smiled, but it was much sadder than usual. “He knew he was gonna kill Lauren as soon as he stole that gun. He took the ignition cable from her car that morning so she’d have to walk to get groceries that night. It wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t because she was the only person walking down that street or because she was the only one wearing a badge. He planned it for months.” He shook his head. “I’m not doin’ so hot, Theo.”

Theodore leaned his cane against the cabinet and wrapped him in a hug, closing his eyes as Russell returned it. “I’m so sorry, Russell.”

“Thank you.” Russell rested his chin on Theodore’s head. “Have you told anyone about Vince or Lauren?”

“Only that you’re working Vince’s case.”

Russell nodded. “Well, just in case you or anyone you know starts digging around, I wanna make sure you hear it from me first.” Gently, he pushed Theodore back a step. “When Lauren was killed, I was a suspect in the murder. I was out of work for about a month and a half, first for the investigation, and then for paid vacation and therapy.”

“Wh-why were you a suspect?”

“Before Lauren started dating the person she eventually married, she and I screwed around quite a bit. We weren’t dating, but, uh…” Russell cleared his throat, closing his eyes. “She had gotten a promotion two days before she was shot. Not a big one or anything, but a pay raise. They thought I was jealous of her marriage and of the promotion, that the two ‘wrongs’ accumulated to…”

Theodore’s brow furrowed. “You’re still willing to work for the bastards that thought you gunned down your partner?”

“They were doing their job. They were just barking up the wrong tree,” Russell said quietly. He met Theodore’s gaze again. “I just needed to make sure you heard it from me, just in case. ‘Cause my name, when you look it up… it’s mostly articles about that. Mostly.”

Theodore hugged him again, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Russell. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It doesn’t…? That doesn’t worry you?”

Theodore pulled back. “Hell no.” One hand wrapped around Russell’s arm, he laid his other hand on the detective’s cheek. “I know you didn’t do anything to your partner. I have a functioning brain, Russ.”

One corner of Russell’s mouth lifted. “I know you do. You’ve got a brilliant mind stowed away in that head of yours.” Theodore leaned up and kissed Russell’s cheek. “You didn’t tell me to stay still.”

“I trust you,” Theodore said slowly. “A-and… I guess it’s easier to stick to that trust when we’re here.”

“Here?”

“Shane’s never been here,” Theodore whispered.

“Aha.” Russell nodded. “Yeah, I should’ve known. Little too buzzed to think that one for myself, though.”

“That’s okay. It’s been a rough couple days for you, Russ.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not exactly getting to grieve like a normal person.”

“Yeah,” Russell repeated. He cleared his throat, hands moving to Theodore’s cheeks. “Thank you for being here. Not just tonight. Just… in general. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

A little smile crossed Russell’s face. He pressed a kiss to Theodore’s forehead. “I have never in my life used the oven here. I’ve used the stove, but that’s the, umm… the extent of my knowledge.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure I can figure it out,” Theodore said.

“Awesome.” Russell dropped his hands back to his sides. “Vera have any bad memories about seeing a beer bottle?”

“No. She never saw Shane drink.”

“What about you?”

Theodore shook his head, grabbing his cane. “Shane drank out of beer cans. Anything other than that was, umm, ‘pointless and stupid’.”

“Class act.”

“I know.”

Russell rubbed a hand down Theodore’s arm before stepping past him. He pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. “You want me to stay in here? Or are you confident that Vera’s safe if I’m in there with her?”

Theodore looked back at the living room, clearing his throat. “I-I can see the couch from here. The back of it, anyway. Can you… sit in the chair until I come in there?”

Russell nodded. “Sure can, Theo. I’ll see you in a few.”

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Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Four

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S. Carved – Chapter Seven

NOT EDITED

Chapter Seven

Saturday: February 9, 2008

Dallas had barely gotten breakfast onto the two plates on the counter before his little brother walked out into the kitchen, still in his pajamas. “Hey, wasn’t expecting you to wake up early today. Was just gonna put your food in the fridge.”

“If I gotta start waking up early on the weekdays for school, I figure it’s best to keep it up on the weekends too. Or, at least the weekends you wake up early on. Keep things consistent, you know?”

Dallas nodded. “Well, I won’t stop you if it’s what you think’s best.” He set one of the plates on the island and pushed it closer to his brother. “Need me to take you anywhere before I head in for work? Or are you good?”

Xavier shook his head as he stuffed a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. “Planning on doing some homework and then gaming.”

“All right. If you decide you wanna hang out with someone, text me, let me know.”

“I will.” Xavier yawned, scrubbing a hand over his left cheek.

Aww, he’s so cute, isn’t he? But imagine how much better he’d be if we reached behind us to grab a knife from the block and slit his handsome little throat with it?

Dallas considered himself thankful that Xavier’s response pulled him further away from Ed’s control, “Do you have to go in every weekend?”

“No, I’m just going in today because I should have a warrant I can carry out, make some good progress.”

“Good luck.”

“Thank you. Good luck with your day of gaming.”

Xavier snorted. “Thanks.” He grabbed the plate and walked into the living room. After grabbing his coffee, Dallas followed suit. He hadn’t been lying when he told Bo his little brother liked patterns and predictability too. Making sure they ate breakfast together whenever they could was only one piece of that. Xavier’s daily video game playing—several hours a day, designated to specific times during the day—was another piece of it. Dallas did his best to accommodate it as well as he could, and if it helped his blonde lab geek ‘buddy’ at all, he’d do his best to do the same for Bo’s patterns.

Hopefully, it would make Dallas’s experience in Homicide a little less miserable than his experience in Narcotics.

***

Dallas found Bo in the lab, his arms crossed over the table, his face buried between them. Dallas flipped on the light almost cautiously, and without any prompting, Bo lifted his head. “Hey, man. You okay?”

“Yes.”

“Did you… sleep here?”

“Yes.” Bo pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his satchel and camera bag from the floor. “I live with the other analyst I’m usually partnered with. Sleeping in his house by myself was a terrible experience. Sleeping here was easier and more familiar.”

Dallas nodded. “Okay. At least… you were able to find something familiar for you. That’s never really a bad thing.”

“Some people are familiar with cocaine and heroin. ‘Never’ is a strong term. But in this case, I suppose you’re right.” Dallas snorted, though Bo’s usual expression revealed that, once again, it hadn’t registered with Bo that the statement could be considered humorous. Bo lifted his satchel over his head and settled the strap of his camera bag on his shoulder. Eyes on the wall just beyond Dallas’s head, he tucked his hands behind his back. “Would you like to get coffee on the drive to the gatekeeper of our security footage?”

Dallas chuckled. “Would love to.”

Bo’s smile disappeared just as quickly as it had come. “Okay. Lead the way.”

No matter how long the smile had lasted, Dallas was making progress with his temporary shift buddy.

The closer you get to him, the harder it will be for us to kill him.

This time, Dallas chose to respond with a single thought, That’s the goal.

***

Dallas walked up to the house and knocked on the door. Bo hung back a few feet, far enough away that he didn’t have to be involved if the situation didn’t call for it.

A man opened the door, a cup of coffee in his hand. He sighed. “Hey, Austen.”

“Sir,” Bo greeted, his voice quiet.

The man’s eyes shifted to Dallas’s face. “If you want something, your chief knows damn well I ain’t helping you without a warrant.”

Dallas smiled, holding up the warrant in question. “We need your security footage for the parking lot you own near the beach. The timestamps we need are included here in the warrant.”

The man grabbed the warrant from him. “Great. The footage isn’t here, though. I’ve got a little office building by the parking lot. You can follow me there and wait for it, or I can bring it to you when it’s ready.”

“We’ll follow you. There’s a chance I’m not spending much time at the station today.”

“A’ight.” The man cleared his throat, holding up the coffee mug. “Let me move this over to a travel mug.”

“Of course, sir. We’ll wait.” The man nodded and stepped back, closing the door. Dallas turned to face Bo. “That went well, yeah.”

“Yes. It usually does once he’s presented with the warrant. He follows the laws without any issue, including the information given about Chief Pitman.”

“But you don’t?” Dallas asked.

Bo shook his head. “No. I’ve met the chief, and he did nothing but go out of his way to make sure I was comfortable in the station. Besides, the reporter who initially started the rumors of his supposed corruption was a racist. Accusing a black man in a position of any type of power of being corrupt loses a lot of its merit when that accuser is known to hate Black people.”

“That’s fair. I’d be inclined not to believe the asshole, either.” Dallas cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, I have a question.”

“Okay.”

“Should I be prepared for Burke to hone in on me eventually?”

“Yes. You said it yourself, Mister Silver. You’re fresh meat. When she’s bored of me, she finally has new blood to go after. That will be you.”

“And she harasses every dude at the station like that?”

“Yes, for the most part. If you won’t sleep with her, she finds other things to harass you about.”

“Is that why your favorite officer left?” Dallas asked. Bo refused to look up at him, but he nodded. “I’m sorry she chased the guy away, Austen.”

“Me too.” Bo took a step back. “Since I don’t foresee any issues arising with Mister Richardson, I’ll be in the car.”

“Is that his name?”

The tiniest smile tugged at one corner of Bo’s mouth. “Yes, that’s his name. You’ll remember it without me?”

“Totally.”

“I’m unsure if you’re aware of this, but ‘totally’ in that tone of voice doesn’t inspire confidence.”

“Psh.” Dallas slashed a hand through the air. “I’ll be fine. Mister Richardson. I’ve got it memorized and filed away for future reference. And if not, I have the greatest default of ‘sir’.”

“Not a terrible point.” Bo nodded. “I’ll wait in the car.”

“Sure thing, man. I’ll be there in a few.”

What if we kill Mister Richardson while Short Stuff is in the car?

Still not a criminal, Dallas thought.

No, but a stranger is a compromise from my very, very deep desire to wrap our hands around the little blonde’s throat until the life leaves his eyes.

Dallas cleared his throat, reaching up to scratch his brow. It’s shit like this that keeps me from responding to you, for what it’s worth.

Aww, Tex, you’re no fun.

Latch your desire onto a fucking criminal–a real one–and maybe we’ll change that for a day.

Though he didn’t offer a verbal response, Ed’s chuckle let Dallas know that his answer had been satisfactory. He’d chalk that up as a win for the day. ‘Satisfactory’ normally made Ed shut his damn mouth for an hour or two.

The door opened, and Mister Richardson stepped outside. “Ready to go?”

Dallas nodded. “Following you, sir.”

***

Dallas sat in the small waiting room of Mister Richardson’s office building. Bo sat three chairs away, an open notebook on his lap. Dallas considered asking what he was working on, but there was a good chance he had already annoyed the lab geek enough for one morning.

Instead, it was Bo who broke the silence. “What’s your brother’s name?”

“Xavier.”

“He must live with you?”

“What makes you guess that?” Dallas asked.

“You were glad your father was dead. I don’t know if your mother was in the picture then or if she still is, but if she were, I imagine you would still feel safest if he lived with you.”

Dallas nodded. “Yeah, he lives with me.” He cleared his throat, flipping his cell phone in his hand, tapping it against his thigh with every turn of the device. “You an only child, Austen?”

“As far as I know.”

“Far… as you know?”

Bo nodded, his gaze still focused on his notebook. “I was given up for adoption when I was young. I could have a dozen biological siblings and have no idea any of them exist.”

“Does that bother you? The sibling thing, not the adoption.”

“I don’t think so, no. I’m not good at interacting with other people. I would prefer that my awkward interactions be as limited with family members as possible. A sibling I knew about would presumably want to interact.” A pause. “Thank you for clarifying.”

“No problem.”

“How old is your brother?”

“Fifteen.”

“Is he awkward?”

“Awkwardly long-legged, yeah.”

Bo snorted, but he didn’t respond.

“His best friend is the school’s guidance counselor. Yeah, he’s a little awkward,” Dallas said.

Bo nodded. “Is he withdrawn from his classmates?”

“What the hell are you doing? Psychoanalyzing my family?” Dallas leaned over and grabbed Bo’s notebook. In an unexpected turn, what Bo had been writing down had absolutely nothing to do with Dallas or his brother. Everything on the page was strictly related to their homicide case. “Umm… sorry. That’s pretty out of character for me. I don’t normally… I haven’t been sleeping well,” Dallas said quietly, handing the notebook back to Bo.

Bo smoothed a hand over his notebook page and, after a moment of absolute stillness, went back to writing.

“You were trying to back up the assumption that my father was abusive, huh?”

Bo didn’t respond.

“He was, for what it’s worth. My mom was already dead by then. For most of it, anyway. Xavier’s mom is still alive, though. She was thankfully deemed unfit to take care of him.” Dallas was greeted with more silence. He looked over at Bo, who had quietly moved over another seat, putting three chairs between them rather than the previous two.

Dallas closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the wall.

Now can we kill him, Tex? Since your friendship is clearly going nowhere?

No, we may not.

Ed groaned. So what? He makes you think of what a freak your brother will grow up to be if you don’t help him learn to better interact with people? He makes you realize how your brother’s little patterns and habits aren’t going to help him fair in the real world? But as long as you can show this little twerp that even one person cares, you can convince yourself your brother will be fine? You’re an idiot, Tex.

Dallas took a page straight out of Bo’s book and chose not to respond.

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Chapter Six

Chapter Eight

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S. Carved – Chapter Six

NOT EDITED

Back home from a boxing session intense enough to hopefully keep Ed out of his head for a few hours, Dallas dropped into his desk chair, snagging the folder Bo had given him at the station. Though he was still supposed to be ‘taking it easy’ on his shoulder, he had needed the workout, had needed Ed to shut the hell up for ever an hour. He’d been careful with the arm, if nothing else. That had to count for something.

He kicked his feet up on his desk and flipped open the folder.

The first page in the file was Bo’s report on the scene and his initial impressions on the body. For instance, he had noticed right away that blood had pooled in the victim’s back, despite being found on his stomach. According to Bo, the fact that livor mortis had been unaltered by his position in the sand meant that he had been dead more than six hours.

The internal temperature taken at the scene had confirmed it, placing his time of death around eleven o’clock the night before.

Dallas flipped through a few pages, stopping at the autopsy results. Though Bo had included more paperwork about a body than Dallas had ever known possible, his eyes went to the blonde’s computer-like handwriting on the half-sheet of paper clipped to the top of the page.

Silver,

You’ll learn rather quickly that you don’t need to truly understand most of the paperwork in this file, but I’m required to include it for eventual trial-related reasons. I’ll include your key points below.

* I’ve been unable to identify the victim up to this point; I’m running his picture through the DMV’s database

* the victim appears to have a needle mark on his inner arm, near the elbow of the left arm; I won’t know what kind of drugs were injected into his system until after the tox screen comes back

* four of his organs were removed: the heart, both kidneys, and the right lung (the left has tumors in the superior lobe)

* I haven’t had the chance to identify them all, but many of his carvings translate to ‘strength’ or ‘power’ in various languages, religions, and cultures

You may do whatever you please with that information, and as long as you have no intention of bringing up Burke and involving yourself in that situation, you may call me with any questions you have. I’ve included my cell phone number below.

Dallas let out a breath, tossing the folder onto his desk. He dropped his feet to the floor and leaned up to pull his cell phone from his pocket. He added Bo’s number to his contacts and called it, pressing the device to his ear.

“Austen.”

“Hey, it’s Dallas Silver.”

“Yes.”

Dallas cleared his throat. “Apologies again for involving myself.”

“Okay. Did you read the file?”

“Yeah, yeah. Umm, why do you think the organs were taken?” Dallas asked.

“The same reasons the symbols were carved: for something he believes in,” Bo said, as if that answered every damn question in the world.

“And, uh, what kind of belief would that be?” Dallas asked.

“It’s hard to say. There’s no specific belief system that tells its believers to carve symbols into themselves and have someone else remove their organs. “Much of what I can say about it past that would only be an assumption.”

“Are you against assumptions?”

“I’m against giving assumptions to people I’m inexperienced with, yes. The wrong assumption can and will lead an investigator down the wrong path, not to mention a closed-minded path. Being uncertain as to if the investigator can ignore that assumption if need be is a necessity for me,” Bo said.

“Can we assume I’m pretty damn good at following any path I can in an investigation?”

“As much as I’d like to, your investigations previous to this one have been… different. You aren’t after someone selling drugs. You’re after a murderer.”

“Many of those dealers and ‘someones’ that were selling drugs were also cold-blooded killers,” Dallas said.

“Yes, but those murders weren’t part of your investigation. Those murders were investigated by a homicide detective, maybe even the FBI.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Dallas kicked his feet up on his desk again, his injured arm resting against his chest. “How long does it take before you trust me enough to give me some assumptions?”

“If I told you that, you’d ask our lieutenant for a new analyst buddy.”

Dallas laughed. “All right, man.  No new analyst buddy, then. I’ll just have to work my ass off for you to trust me.”

“And I’ll wish you the best of luck with that endeavor.”

Dallas snorted. Bo’s sentences were entirely deadpan, and Dallas had a feeling he had no damn idea that he was funny in any sense of the word. “What if I pitch a couple theories to you? Would you be cool with that?”

“Is that something you feel you need to do?”

“It’s what I would’ve done in Narcotics?”

Bo fell silent for a moment. “Okay.”

We should invite him over. We could ask about Burke, find out a little more than we already know. Yes?

Dallas shook his head. He had hoped his workout would keep Ed at bay for a bit longer. Sometimes he lucked out with his boxing sessions and managed to silence the bastard for a couple hours. Tragically, the days where he ‘lucked out’ had become far less frequent again. “The fact that he had other people willing to carve him up like that over an extended period of time makes me feel like we’ve got some sort of cult on our hands.”

“It could certainly be a possibility. Admittedly, it would be hard to convince one’s standard friends or family members to cut symbols into their skin for a year or two,” Bo said.

“Yeah, I was thinking much the same there. You said the symbols are from different religions and whatnot, right?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s pretty unlikely that we’re looking at a religious cult?”

“That’s… a less than straightforward answer.”

“Fine with me. We don’t have to see the case in only black or white, yeah?”

Again, Bo’s silence hung in the air for several seconds. “I suppose not.” He cleared his throat. “In the same way that different cultures see specific actions differently–for instance, an action being respectful in some cultures but disrespectful as others–there’s always the opportunity for a religion to adopt symbols from other religions, though they usually change the name and the meaning. That said, I still find it doubtful that all of these symbols belong to any single recognized religion. I’m not a religious man, nor have I ever been, but I’m aware of many aspects of many of the major religions. If a single religion holds all of these symbols, it is not one that is practiced on a vast scale.”

“Mm.” Dallas pinned his phone between his shoulder and ear long enough to reach out and grab the folder from his desk. “Your notes say the symbols–the ones you knew, anyway–were mostly symbols for strength. Right?”

“Yes.”

“So if we couple that with the missing organs and the fact they didn’t take the presumably diseased lung…”

“You won’t trick me into filling in that assumption, Mister Silver,” Bo said after several seconds of silence.

Dallas chuckled. “Apologies. I was trying to interrogation tactic you.”

“I assumed.”

“Are there cases of human consumption of organs for, like, strength? That sounds vaguely familiar to me.”

“Technically, but not in the sense you’re thinking of. There are historical records of certain cultures believing that eating an organ would give them the strength that organ held.”

“Mm, okay. So… it’s possible that these people were using the strength symbols to, like, what? Supercharge the superpowers they’d get from eating someone’s kidney?”

“Well, the strength, if that’s the theory we’re hypothesizing around. And, yes, it would be a possibility that the symbols were used as some sort of… ‘charging’ method for the strength of the healthy organs.”

“Maybe it’s a cult of sick people. So eating the healthy supercharged lung is supposed to fix… their lung cancer, y’know?”

“It’s a possibility.”

Dallas nodded. “What could possibly drive modern Americans to believe in that kind of thing?”

“There are many possibilities. What drives people to do anything they do in terms of murder?”

“Money, greed, jealousy, sex, desperation, curiosity.” Dallas glanced up at the ceiling. “I guess if I was sick and had tried everything to get better, I’d be desperate as hell. I’d try anything to get rid of the sickness.”

Aww, I’m a sickness now? Ed asked. I have feelings, you know, Tex.

Dallas cleared his throat. “So if we hypothesize with this theory a bit, what’s our next step?”

“Well, we need to watch and analyze the footage from the parking lot.”

“I should have access to that tomorrow.”

“Okay. I still need to identify the victim, as well. It’ll allow you to speak to his family and find out what they know about what he may or may not have been involved with when he was alive. Like I said, a cult situation is a possibility, and there are cases where the family of the members of those cults are aware that their children belong to a cult. The members often don’t see it that way, but the people on the outside looking in have a different… perspective.”

“Yeah. Think you’ll have an ID on him by tomorrow too?” Dallas asked.

“As long as he had a driver’s license, yes, I would imagine I’ll have a match by then.”

“Great. So I’ll see you tomorrow, and we’ll go get our security footage, yes?”

“If you would like me to accompany you, yes.”

“You’re sorta my babysitter for now, remember?”

“You’re older than me by… Well, I’m unsure. A few years, at the very least.”

Dallas snorted. “Five. Sometimes adults need supervision too.”

“I suppose. I’ll go with you tomorrow, then, after Burke gives you the warrant.”

“Great. I’ll see you then. Enjoy your evening, Austen.”

“You as well, Mister Silver.”

Dallas pulled his phone from his ear and ended the call. “Xavier?”

“Yeah?” his little brother’s voice echoed from down the hall.

“You eat supper yet?”

“No!”

“You hungry?”

“Yeah!”

Dallas set the folder on his desk, dropped his feet to the floor, and pushed himself out of his chair. He headed down the hall and opened the door to his brother’s room. At the age of fifteen, Xavier was still in his awkward years in terms of growth. Though he was slowly approaching Dallas’s just over six-foot frame, he was mostly all leg, which was painfully obvious when he gamed in his beanbag chair in the middle of his room, legs bent like those of a grasshopper.

“Got anything in mind?” Dallas asked.

“No, anything’s fine.” Xavier paused his game and twisted in his chair to meet his brother’s eyes. “How was day uno of Homicide?”

“Not bad. My lieutenant partnered me with a lab geek so I’d still have a… I don’t know, an advisor of sorts, I guess. That was appreciated. And I have a case already.”

Xavier smiled. “Proud of you.”

“Thank you.” Dallas tapped a hand against the door frame, taking a small step back. “Well, back to your game, then. I’ll whip up something for us.”

“Okay. Let me know if you need help?”

“Will do.” Dallas closed the door, letting out a breath. He’d been raising his little brother for the last few years, though his grandparents had done the majority of raising while Dallas was in college. Now, his brother was solely his responsibility, and though Ed made it far more difficult than it needed to be, he wouldn’t change it for the world. No one would ever hurt Xavier again, and even if killing their father had given Ed far more control over Dallas than he had ever hoped to relinquish, that was all that mattered.

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Chapter Five

Chapter Seven

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Books & Badges – Chapter Thirty-Two

NOT EDITED

A/N: The character introduced in this chapter, Sam, is non-binary and uses the pronounces they/them. ‘They’ in reference to them in the story is on purpose and correct, but I wanted to make sure you weren’t confused when you got there 🙂

Russell pressed a kiss to Theodore’s forehead and thanked him for what felt like the millionth time before heading back out to the parking lot. Though the last thing he wanted to do at that very moment was work on the case, he had to. He had to work on it. He had to make progress.

He had to find the bastard who shot Vince, who shot Lauren. He simply had to.

He drove out to the gas station, specifically configuring his route to avoid driving past Vince’s house. Seeing the house, all the lights off inside, made him sad, and he had to be a cop for the rest of the day. That sadness needed to stay inside and off his face.

Russell parked his car in front of the gas station and cut the engine. He leaned back in his seat, giving himself a moment to breathe, a moment to think. Satisfied that he wouldn’t break down, he climbed out of the car and headed inside. He walked up to the counter, folding his arms over top of it. “Hey.”

The cashier, a young gal, lifted her eyes to his face. “Hey, Russell.”

He smiled. “Hi, Becky. Any chance you were working Sunday night?”

The woman, Becky, shook her head. “I wasn’t. Why? Did something happen?”

“I’m sure you’ve seen the shooting on the news.”

“Vince,” Becky said quietly. “Yeah, I’ve seen that. I’m sorry about him, Russell.”

“Thank you.” Russell cleared her throat. “So… Vince was on a late night jog when it happened, and I know he came in here on his way back home. I was wondering if you’d let me take a peek at the security footage from Sunday night.”

“Why?”

“I’d like to see how he was behaving. Did he look nervous? On edge? Stuff like that.”

Becky nodded. “Okay. Come on back.”

***

The gas station security footage hadn’t revealed much to Russell. Vince had looked calm and collected the entire time he was inside. He hadn’t looked to the windows or doors to see if he had been followed inside. He hadn’t looked over his shoulder at every turn.

He had come in, gotten a bottle of water, chatted with the cashier, and been on his way. If anyone had been following Vince, he hadn’t known until after the gas station. If he had known, he wouldn’t have gone back out without calling someone at the station. Russell was certain of that. Vince had been an incredibly intelligent man, and if he had feared someone had been following him, he wouldn’t have taken the risk.

Russell slid into the driver’s seat of his car, closing the door behind him. Tilting his head back against the seat, he let out a heavy breath. Despite everything he had done, he was still at square one.

It wasn’t as though this was the only case in the world that hadn’t moved past square one during the fourth day of investigation, especially since Sunday had hardly been day one, but that knowledge didn’t make it any easier on him. He always did his best on his cases. He always worked his ass off to make sure justice was served. But this one was still different than any of the others he had ever been assigned.

This one, he had a personal stake in. This one only existed because some sick fucker had killed the man he had seen as a father for the better part of a decade. Most of his cases were about serving justice.

This one was about avenging Lauren and Vince. This one was one hundred percent personal.

***

Russell had driven around Rustin for nearly an hour before working up the guts to drive out to Lauren’s partner’s house. As far as he knew, they hadn’t remarried. The part that always ate away at Russell, however, was that they still lived in the same house they had when Lauren was alive.

He couldn’t even imagine living a whopping four blocks away from where your wife was ruthlessly gunned down. Hell, even now, the very thought of it made him sick to his stomach.

Letting out a slow breath, Russell dropped his hands from the steering wheel. The longer he put it off–the longer he stayed in the car–the longer it would take to find the bastard who had shot Vince, the bastard who had shot Lauren.

He climbed out of the car and made his way up to the house. Forcing himself not to hesitate, he knocked on the door. It wasn’t long before it opened. Lauren’s partner, Sam, offered a smile. “Hey, Sam.”

“Russell,” they greeted. “Is everything all right?”

“I’m actually here on a case. One of our retired… boys in blue was shot and killed on Sunday. I’m currently working that case, and I have a few questions about what you remember from when Lauren was killed.”

“Jesus,” Sam whispered. “Wh-why do you need to get into that?”

“I have it on good authority that the two shootings are related.”

“You think it’s the same guy?”

“Given everything I have so far? Yeah, I think so.”

Slowly, Sam nodded. “Okay. Umm… come on in. I-I can’t promise that I’ll have a lot for you, Russell. It wasn’t easy when she died.”

“I know. It was hell.”

“Yeah,” Sam whispered. They stepped away from the door, holding out an arm. “I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t get your hopes up.”

Russell offered a smile as he stepped into the foyer. “Anything you can provide holds the potential to be helpful, even if it seems pointless to you. Don’t worry so much about it. I’ve just got a few questions about how the investigation was carried out that day.”

***

Finished up with a two and a half hour conversation with Sam, Russell sat in his car outside the station. Finally, Russell had an answer as to why the cops had checked Lauren’s car in search of her police badge.

After work, she had gone home first. A refresher from Sam had reminded Russell he had taken Lauren home that day. He had picked her up that morning, too. They carpooled most days, and Russell had thought nothing of it at the time. What he hadn’t known was that Lauren had needed a ride that morning in particular because her car suddenly wouldn’t start.

When Sam had gotten it looked at in the weeks following Lauren’s death, they had been told that the ignition cable had been missing.

Someone had purposely sabotaged Lauren’s car that day. The bastard had known with absolute certainty that he was going to shoot Lauren. It hadn’t been a coincidence that he had crossed her path and gunned her down. It hadn’t been because she was the only cop walking along that sidewalk that night.

He had known he wanted to kill Lauren, and he had known it for a long damn time. If Russell had to guess, the bastard had known he wanted to kill Lauren at least three months before her death, when he had stolen the gun in Oklahoma.

Russell just… didn’t know why.

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Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Three

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S. Carved – Chapter Five

NOT EDITED

Dallas pushed himself to his feet and made his way to the detective desks. Clearing his throat, he stopped in front of Burke’s desk. He didn’t know her first name, and truthfully, iven what he already knew about her, he didn’t care to learn it.

We could kill her. Since she hurt your new best friend and all.

As appealing as the idea sounded, bullying Bo didn’t make her a criminal. Though… if he had ever asked her to stop touching his neck… Well, maybe he would have to ask Bo about that later.

Burke’s eyes lifted to his face. “Silver, right?”

“Yes.”

“Mm. You said… you were a new officer?”

“Yes,” Dallas repeated. He held out his completed affidavit. “You need a search warrant for us to view security footage of the–”

“Don’t care,” Burke said, grabbing the paper from him. “Austen happen to say anything after we left?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. Anything about me, for instance?” Burke asked.

“Ah.” Dallas did his best to bite back the tone he wanted to take with the woman. “Well, I just met him today. We haven’t known each other long enough yet to start gossiping over which girls are the cutest while we paint each other’s nails.”

Burke smiled, but it did nothing to warm her features. Instead, Dallas’s stomach churned. “Yeah, he’s not much of a talker. More of a nerdy, silent type.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Dallas pointed to the paper in her hand. “I need a judge’s signature on that.”

“Yep. Won’t be a problem.” Burke pushed herself to her feet. “Where is Austen?”

“Doing his job, if it matters.”

“Morgue?”

“Out in the field,” Dallas said.

“Mm.” She waved a hand. “You’re dismissed. I’ll have this back to you soon.”

Dallas walked back to his desk, rolling his shoulders. The motion strained the one he was supposed to be resting, but he didn’t mind. Pain kept him in check. Strain kept him in check. Anything that kept Ed a voice instead of a darkness with access to every button and lever on the control board was good for him.

Strain aside, how long had Bo been dealing with the Burke issue? Even to a complete stranger, she was damn near relentless when it came to her attempts to get at Bo.

Wouldn’t it be fun to break your rules just this once, Tex? You want to be a knight for the defenseless? You want to ride the world of filth? Think of the way your new best friend looked when Burke touched his neck. Think of the way she says his name, asks about him, PREYS on him. Think about it. Let it really simmer in that brain of yours. We could take her out, you and me. It sure would be doing at least one man in the world a favor, wouldn’t it?

Ed made a good point–tragically–but it was too soon to tell if Burke’s particular ‘brand’ of filth was criminal or not. It was a fine line to walk, but walking it was necessary. Following the rules kept Dallas from becoming one of the criminals he hunted down and took from the world. Vigilantism didn’t change the fact that he was a serial killer, but it made him less monstrous than the rest of them.

That was the only comfort he managed to take in it.

Dallas lowered himself into his desk chair. He wasn’t sure how he’d get the information out of Bo, but he needed more details on Burke’s filth.

The sooner the better.

***

Dallas watched Bo walk into the station, his camera bag hanging from his shoulder, his eyes on his cell phone. He didn’t make it far before Burke stepped in front of him. Bo stopped without ever lifting his head.

Look at them, Tex. You saw the shift in his posture. He doesn’t even have to LOOK at her for him to be uncomfortable.

Again, Ed was right. The change in Bo’s posture had been immediate. His shoulders had lifted in defense, and his usually tall posture had folded, allowing him to appear even smaller than he already was.

Dallas pushed himself to his feet and made his way over to the pair. “Austen. I’d like you to walk me through the scene again, for my notes.”

“Your notes should be typed and handed over to me when they’re done,” Burke said.

“Yep, will do.”

Bo kept his head bowed, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he followed Dallas back to his desk. Bo stopped a good foot in front of it, hands tucked behind his back. “Where would you like me to begin?”

“I don’t need you to begin anywhere, man. I’ve got a damn good memory,” Dallas said. “I was just getting Burke away from you.”

“Oh.” Bo cleared his throat. “You shouldn’t get involved in that.”

“Why? You deserve her…? What do you call what she’s doing? Making advances? Flirting? Touching you? You think you deserve to be uncomfortable in the station you work in?”

Bo shook his head. “Don’t draw attention to yourself. It won’t be long before she treats you the same way. She’s only hung up on me because she seems to want to sleep with every male in the department. Since I’ve turned eighteen, I have met her requirements. Don’t get involved.”

Dallas cleared his throat. “She’s been doing this for almost a year?”

“ ‘Almost’ seems like a strong word.”

“You turned eighteen last April. It’s now February.”

Bo glanced up before nodding. “Yes, I suppose ‘almost’ is appropriate, then.”

“And no one’s done anything after almost a year of this?”

“Again, I do not want to get involved. I haven’t exactly openly discussed Burke with my sergeant or lieutenant.”

“You won’t report her inappropriate behavior because you don’t want to ‘get involved’.”

“Yes.”

“What’s–?”

“You may involve yourself in anyone else’s life, but please stop trying to involve yourself in mine. You have already made your point, Officer Silver, and I do believe I have made mine. Tattling has not helped me in the past, and it will not help me now. I will leave it at that, and I request you do the same.”

Before Dallas could even process a response, Bo turned and walked away.

Went in a little hard there, Tex. Gotta reel it back next time. Learn to read the room, yeah?

“Fuck off,” Dallas whispered.

Ed cackled his response.

If Bo wasn’t the first one she had harassed, if she had done it to several men at the station until they slept with her… Reported or not, Dallas felt more than comfortable calling her a criminal. She fit the rules just fine.

He hoped.

***

Bo came upstairs again just as Dallas shrugged his jacket on over his shoulders. “Hey.”

“Hello.” Bo, as expected, avoided Dallas’s eyes as he held out a folder. “Results of the autopsy. I’m still awaiting blood results for a tox screen and any possible detectable illnesses he may have had.

With his right arm held to his chest, Dallas zipped his jacket up. He grabbed the folder, clearing his folder. “Thank you.” Bo nodded. “Sorry about earlier today, Austen. I’ve got a bad case of, uh… wanting to make the world right, but I know it doesn’t work that way. I didn’t mean to be so intrusive, and I apologize for that.”

“Thank you.”

“I will say, and this is my last piece on it, I think you should report her.”

“Many of his organs were missing.”

Dallas blinked. “What?”

“The victim. Many of his organs had been removed. That is what they did when they ‘broke the seal’. They removed some of his organs. The specifics have been included in the file.” Bo took a step back. “Goodnight, Mister Silver.”

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Chapter Four

Chapter Six

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Books & Badges – Chapter Thirty-One

NOT EDITED

Theodore lifted his head as a hand touched the counter. He smiled. “Hey, Dad.”

Jenner smiled back at him. “Hey, kiddo. I… figured you could take your lunch break with me today?”

“Is… everything okay, Dad?”

“One hundred percent. But we haven’t had lunch together–just you and me–since before Vera was born. I’d love to change that.”

The smile came back to Theodore’s face. “I’d love that, Dad. Let me just go clock out, okay?”

“All right, bud. I’ll be here.”

***

Jenner had taken Theodore to the diner about four blocks away from the bookstore. It had been Theodore’s favorite restaurant as a kid, particularly because of their pistachio pudding pie. He hadn’t been there in years, not since he had started dating Shane. Shane had hated the diner, claimed that the prices were nothing but a rip-off, being expected to tip the ‘piss poor’ waitresses was idiotic, and the food was ‘hardly edible’.

Theodore had obviously disagreed, but he hadn’t vocalized that to the man after the first attempt. His lesson on how important his opinions were had started then, only ending once Shane had been taken away in cuffs.

“So.”

Theodore lifted his head. “So?” he echoed.

“Your mom tells me the detective was having a bad day. Far as your mom knew, that was his first one. But… I know otherwise.”

“Dad–”

“I’m not here to call him out on something. I just wanna know how he’s holding up today.”

“I-I don’t know. I haven’t seen or talked to him since this morning,” Theodore said.

Jenner nodded. “I’ll rephrase. How was he holding up this morning before he left?”

“Okay, I think. He seemed to be doing much better after a shower, if nothing else. I guess… I mean, that’s a good thing.”

“Definitely a good thing. Something as simple as a shower or a change of clothes can have a big impact on your day, depending.” Jenner cocked his head to the side. “Do you know what about this case is messing with him so badly?”

“Yeah. Have… you seen the cop shooting on the news?”

“Oh, God, he’s working that?”

“Yeah. It, umm… It hasn’t been easy on him.”

“I can only imagine.” A pause. “What about you? How has it been for you?”

Theodore considered the question for a moment. “Scary. I-I’ve done my best not to clue Russell in on that, but it’s been scary. The cop was retired, so I keep trying to tell myself that Russell’s in no danger, but… but that cop was probably shot because he used to wear a badge. Th-the same kind Russell wears. The idea of him putting his life on the line every damn day, even when he’s not on duty, is… terrifying.”

“I bet it is. When you were with Shane…” Theodore reached across the table and gave his father’s hand a tight squeeze. Jenner offered a smile before shaking his head. “Fearing for someone you care about is hard. Fearing for them every day is ever harder. It takes a pretty big toll on the body, and an even bigger toll on the mind. So… if you ever need to talk about that fear and worry, you can talk to me. Over text, over the phone, in person. Whatever you need, I’ll be there.”

A smile tugged at one corner of Theodore’s mouth. “Thank you, Dad. Really, thank you.”

“No problem, bud.”

***

After his dad dropped him back off at the bookstore, Theodore headed over to the cafe portion of it.

Gina flashed a smile. “Hey. Have a nice lunch with your dad?”

“Yeah. It was a nice change of pace. Feels like… forever since I just sat down with either of them for lunch, my dad, especially. It was nice.”

“Well, hey, that’s great.” Gina cleared her throat. “Coffee?”

“Yeah. Same as always.”

“Perfect. Just a sec.” After a short wait, Gina set Theodore’s coffee down on the counter. “Still not letting you pay for it, so don’t even think about it.”

Theodore rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Gina crossed her arms over her chest. “Hey, umm… Russell came in while you were at lunch. Like, five minutes after you left. He looked pretty upset, so I got him a coffee and told him to wait for you.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah. He’s in the reading area in the children’s section.” Gina grabbed his hand. “Again, I think Russell is a very good man, but if you feel unsafe at any point, you call for me. Okay?”

“All right,” Theodore whispered. He grabbed the coffee and made his way back to the children’s section of the bookstore. Russell sat on the floor, toying with whatever was in his hand. Theodore tapped his cane against Russell’s thigh. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Russell whispered. “I-I saved the beanbag chair for you.”

“Thank you.” With a little help from his cane and Russell, Theodore lowered himself into the beanbag chair. “Would… you like to talk?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not, umm, not at all. Talk about whatever you need to, Russell.”

Russell offered a smile, laying a hand on Theodore’s thigh. “I can’t talk to anyone at the station about this. I mean… Emey and Andrew are my friends, but they’ve seen me go through hell several times, and I’m scared they’ll tell my lieutenant that the case is too close for me to work on it if I tell them too much about what’s going on.”

Theodore nodded, tentatively covering Russell’s hand with his own. “Well… I promise you I’m not going to get you removed from the case.”

“Thank you.” Russell cleared his throat, looking down as he moved his thumb over Theodore’s thigh. “When I got to the station, I went down to the basement to talk to our forensic tech. I needed to know more about Vince’s scene so I could see if it related to Lauren’s as closely as I thought it might.”

“Lauren… being your late partner?” Theodore asked.

“Yeah. Vince was shot… with two weapons. Th-the important part, though, is that both guns were reported stolen a month before the shooting. One was stolen from Texas, and the other was stolen from Minnesota within six days of each other. In Lauren’s case, it was only one weapon, but it was also reported stolen three months before the shooting. That one was from Oklahoma.”

“So… even when the gun was stolen has a cooldown period.”

“Right. And it decreased between the first and second shootings.”

“Three months to one is… a drastic shortening, right?”

Russell nodded. “Very, yeah. After not getting caught the first time, he probably felt much more confident to do it a second time,” he said.

“That’s terrifying.”

“Very,” Russell repeated. He cleared his throat, dropping his head to Theodore’s thigh. Theodore tensed for a moment before moving a hand to the side of the detective’s head. “Vince had a jogging route he followed at night. He would’ve been on his way home when he was shot. So I checked his phone to see if he had deviated from his path any.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah. He stopped at the gas station on his way home.”

“Do you know why?”

“No. N-not yet. That’s my next stop.” Russell lifted a hand to scrub it over his face. “Shit, I’m sorry. This is uncomfortable for you, right.”

“No, you’re fine.” Theodore combed his fingers through Russell’s hair. “Shane never would’ve dreamed of putting his head on my lap. You’re fine.”

“Awesome,” Russell whispered. “When’s your lunch break over?”

“When’s yours?”

Russell looked down at his watch. “Eight minutes.”

Theodore nodded. “Then I guess mine ends in eight minutes, too.”

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Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-Two

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S. Carved – Chapter Four

NOT EDITED

Chapter Four

Dallas pushed himself to his feet, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops. “Where do we go from here?”

“Well, I’ll continue to take pictures, search for evidence, take more pictures, bag anything I can find… That’s my piece in all this.” Bo glanced up at him. “Since you’ll be playing detective whenever Burke gets assigned a case, you’ll have to really play that part.”

Dallas nodded. “You worked with the last officer she did this to, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“What would his first step have been?”

“Questioning the person who called in the body.” Bo pointed over to one of the barricades. “It appears she’s seated over there by the other officers. That’s usually where he would have begun.”

“Thank you.”

Bo nodded rather than offering any sort of verbal response. That didn’t surprise Dallas in the least. Though he didn’t know anything about Bo’s schooling, it was more than obvious that the station and the people within it had beaten him down more than once. The more often he responded with actual words, the greater chances Dallas had to tell him he had said something wrong.

He’ll never do anything wrong ever again if we kill him.

Dallas rolled his eyes as he walked back toward the yellow tape. Back in the day, he and Ed had made a compromise of sorts. Every now and then, he’d let Ed take control of his killer drive and take a life, but it had to be that of a criminal. Ed had agreed, but it hadn’t stopped him from pleading his case for the taking of any life around him.

Somehow, Dallas still had his fingers crossed that the bastard would eventually get the message. As it stood, ‘eventually’ was nowhere in sight.

He ducked under the crime scene tape and stopped at the barricade closest to the scene. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Officer Silver. You mind answering a few questions about how you stumbled upon this?”

Arms wrapped around herself, she shook her head. “No, ask whatever you have to.”

“Thank you.” It struck Dallas in that moment that Narcotics was not at all like Homicide, and he had no idea how the hell to question this woman.

“What were you doing out on the beach this early in the morning?” Bo asked from behind Dallas.

“I come out here and pick up trash in the mornings before work. It doesn’t help a ton, but it helps keep the beach a little cleaner,” she said.

Bo nodded. “Of course. We appreciate your hard work in helping to keep our city clean. How long were you out here before you spotted him?”

“Not long. Maybe twenty minutes?”

“What’d you do when you first spotted him?”

“I called out to him a couple times, asked if he was okay, if he needed help. I figured he might’ve been asleep when he didn’t respond, so I did my best to stay quiet and went back to picking up trash. But when I walked by him, I noticed he was on his stomach, and then I noticed his back.”

“Did you touch the body?”

“No.”

“Do you have the container you were using to store the trash you collected?” Bo asked.

“Not with me. It’s the trash bag a couple feet away from his… body,” she said quietly.

“I’ll ask you to go to the station with one of our officers here so you can be fingerprinted. It will allow us to eliminate your prints from the bag and the trash inside when we’re looking for potential evidence.”

She nodded. “Okay. I-I can do that.”

“Thank you. Your cooperation is appreciated. Did you happen to see anyone else this morning? Walking away from the beach when you arrived? Anything like that?”

“No, I’m sorry. It was empty when I got here. I mean… aside from him, but if there was someone else up and about, I would’ve noticed them. I’m sure of that.”

Bo nodded. “All right, thank you.” He pointed to one of the uniformed officers by the yellow tape. “This is Officer Montgomery. He will take you to the station to be fingerprinted, or you may follow him in your own vehicle.”

“I’ll follow him.”

“All right. I’ll ask that you leave your name and phone number with Officer Silver here, but otherwise, thank you, and you’re free to leave with Officer Montgomery whenever you’re ready,” Bo said. “Without any further goodbyes, he ducked under the tape and made his way back to the body.

Dallas offered a smile, pulling his notepad from his pocket. “Your name and a number we can reach you at, ma’am?”

Once Dallas had her information written down, he tucked his notepad away and walked back to Bo. “Thanks for jumping in there, Austen. Had no damn idea what to say.”

“No problem.”

“Appreciate you not letting me suffer in this station the same way others have done to you.”

Bo remained silent, not that Dallas was surprised. He snapped another picture and rose to his feet. “Will you help me move him to his back once I lay down a tarp to protect any evidence on his back?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. I’ll have a pair of gloves for you in a moment.”

“All right, man. I’ll be here.”

Bo walked back to the car, returning with a tarp and a pair of gloves. He handed the gloves to Dallas, unfolding the tarp while the officer pulled the gloves on. “I need you to help move his legs over. I’ll handle his shoulders and head.”

“Okay.”

As they turned him over, Bo cleared his throat. “I’ve been treated like some sort of cancerous, contagious abnormality most of my life. I would never set my goal as making someone else feel the same.”

“Ending the cycle of abuse is far from a bad thing.”

“Yes.” Bo squatted down beside the body, his expression neutral despite the autopsy-like suture job on the corpse’s torso. “This is the Y-shaped cut usually used in an autopsy, though not as long toward the shoulders or pubic bone. He was alive when this cut was made, based on the bruising, but it’s doubtful he was awake. The cuts are clean, and even restraints would’ve allowed for some movement, not to mention bruises or cuts. He could’ve been under some type of anesthetic.”

“So… why stitch him back up afterward?” Dallas asked.

Bo circled a hand above the body. “These symbols have been cut into his skin in a circular fashion. The small dashes along the outside circumference of them, as well as the dashes along the inside circumference, give the impression of two closed circles, both of which are used to help the symbols act as a frame.”

“Like a seal.”

Bo met his gaze for a few seconds before dropping his eyes to the body again. “Yes, like a seal.” He traced a hand through the air a few inches above the stitched up Y on the body’s front. “The seal was broken, and after they were done breaking it, they stitched it back up. Whether that was to ‘repair’ the seal or for something else entirely, we can’t know for sure.”

Dallas let out a breath, clasping his hands between his knees. “So what’s our next step? I mean, after you finish taking pictures and collecting evidence?”

“Our next steps will differ. I have a body to re-cut open and see what they did to his insides when they broke the seal. Your next step, however, could go any number of ways.”

“What would your favorite officer have done next?” Dallas asked.

Bo nodded toward the other side of the beach. “The parking lot has security cameras. The owner of that lot doesn’t enjoy helping the cops, so you’ll need a warrant to view the footage. The officer in question would’ve gone about getting a warrant.”

“Now, that, I know how to do.”

A small smile crossed Bo’s face. “I’ll be a bit more than a few hours. You can head into the station and get started on the affidavit for the warrant. Burke or her partner will have to sign it and claim they wrote it, but we won’t get the warrant if you request one of them to actually… do something.”

“Okay. You wanna call me when you need a ride?”

“I’ll catch a ride back to the station when the body’s transported there. People who work with corpses tend to be much more… tolerant of me.” Bo offered a smile. “I’ll be all right, but I’ll call your desk phone if my plans fall through.”

“All right, man.” Dallas pushed himself to his feet. “Good luck, Austen.”

“To you as well, Silver.”

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Chapter Three

Chapter Five

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Books & Badges – Chapter Thirty

NOT EDITED

As soon as Russell got into the station, he headed down to the basement. He knocked on the open door to the lab. “Ellie? You good to answer a couple questions for me?”

“Of course.” Ellie lifted her head, a smile coming to her face. “How’re you doing this morning, Russ?”

“I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “You have anything on the gun that was used?”

“Yeah. It’s… two guns. One is a revolver.” Ellie held out several pieces of paper. Russell crossed the room, accepting them without complaint. “It’s a Smith and Wesson five hundred. Which… before I really looked at the bullets and identified two weapons, struck me as a strange choice.”

Russell’s brow furrowed. “Because it only holds five bullets.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s also a damn powerful gun. How the fuck did Vince k-keep…” Russell closed his eyes for a moment. “How did he keep going after the first shot?”

“That’s where the use of two guns comes into play. Two of the bullets belong to a thirty-two caliber ACP. Those would’ve come first. Based on the wounds, it appears that… the first shot from the Smith and Wesson took him down. The second and third were delivered when he was already on the ground.”

After a moment, Russell forced himself to nod. “Did you manage to get a height on the killer?”

“Assuming that the gun was held out in front of the shooter rather than at his hip–he’d have to be pretty damn tall for that one to be possible–he’s between six-foot and six-foot-two.”

Russell nodded, flipping through the papers in his hands simply to give himself something to do. Lauren’s shooter had been estimated to be between six-foot and six-foot-two. “Either of these guns match any other crime scenes?”

“No, and the shooter doesn’t own them legally, either. Both guns were reported stolen last month within six days of each other. The Smith and Wesson from Texas, and the ACP from Minnesota.”

Russell hadn’t gotten that far in Lauren’s case file yet. He made a mental note to check if there had been more than one gun had been used in Lauren’s shooting and if the weapon or weapons had been stolen.

“All right. Thank you. Umm… just one more question, I think.”

“Of course.”

“Did Vince have his phone on him?” Russell asked.

“Yeah. I’ve got it bagged. Would you like to look at it?”

“I’d love to.”

Ellie bent down and grabbed the phone from the evidence box on the floor. “I’ve already checked it for prints and DNA. It’s just Vincce’s. You can take it out of the bag without gloves if you need to.”

Russell grabbed the bag from her, setting the papers down on the counter. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m going to work on my notes, but if you need anything, let me know. Okay?”

Russell nodded and leaned back against the counter. As Ellie went back to work, he opened the evidence bag and pulled out Vince’s phone. He unlocked it, for once finding himself thankful that Vince had always refused to put a passcode on the damn thing. He opened up the health app and switched over to the map tracker portion of it. Though Vince had never cared to know how far he walked, how many steps he had taken, or what his route looked like, the app was pre-built into his phone, incapable of being uninstalled.

He scrolled back to Sunday night. Vince had followed his usual route for his late night jogs, with only one variation. He had gone to the gas station on his way back home. He detoured a block and a half so he could stop at the gas station.

But why?

***

Seated in his car so no one could see what he was working on, Russell flipped through Lauren’s case file. He couldn’t be certain of what would happen if anyone other than Emelia found out he was digging around in his late partner’s case, but he had a feeling he knew the consequences.

His lieutenant would take him off Vince’s case and put him on temporary leave. Hell, he’d probably get sent back to mandatory therapy, too. Russell had no issue with therapy, but it was a little less effective for him when it was superior mandated.

Lauren had been shot with only one weapon, a nine millimeter Glock 17 Gen5. “Aww, shit,” Russell whispered. He had expected to feel better that the gun in Lauren’s homicide had been stolen, but it was quite the opposite.

So many damn details matched up, and if it was the same guy, his initial cooldown period had finally been set. Eleven months. If there had been eleven months between the first and second kills, how much quicker would he move before he felt comfortable enough to jump on kill number three?

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Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty-One

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