Tommy nodded, shaking his head before reading his emails. I looked down at the folder, sitting under my keyboard, full of shit I needed to decipher.
“Call it a day, kid,” I told him. “You’ve been sitting on her all day, you gotta be tired.”
I grabbed my folder and my jacket, heading out of the office, down to my car. I felt for him, I did. He had the same gut instincts I did when it came to people, but he lacked the experience of the bullshit people could weave to hide their guilt. He needed to take a step back and stop reacting.
It made me think of my early days in homicide, when I’d been eager to please. God, that felt like a lifetime ago.
I made my way down to the garage and headed out of the underground carpark in my car. It wasn’t until I was just outside the bar that I decided to call in, quickly swerving off the street and into the parking lot behind the old brick bar.
It was one of the original cop bars in town, and remained that way today, even if our precinct had moved two blocks away from it. As I headed inside, I motioned to the cops on the end of the bar. They were retired, and practically lived here. Good for advice when you need to clear your head. Heading over to a spare seat, I motioned to the barkeep Craig to pour me one. He grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels from the wall and a glass before he returned to me, pouring my first drink of what I could only imagine would be many.
“Rough day?” he enquired, putting the bottle to the side, knowing I’d probably finish it by the time the sun went down.
“Not overly,” I said, taking a sip and letting the liquid burn down my throat. “I think it’s getting close to quittin’ time.”
“You look like you’ve seen better days,” Craig chuckled. “How long have you been doing it now?”
“Too long,” I replied, finishing my drink and pushing the glass to him. He poured me another and pushed it back.
I liked Craig. He kept the conversation to the point and short, knowing we came here to disappear rather than to talk. His father was the one who I knew well but when ol’ Perry’s heart came to quit on him, Craig came to take over the place, keeping it as genuine as if this were the 50s when it opened.
He was good people, just like his daddy had been.
Craig left the bottle of Jack on the side, so I could get to it if needed as he went to clean up some of the tables as the cops departed. I let the whiskey burn my throat again as I sipped at it, pushing this case from my mind so I didn’t lose it. It had been a rough couple of months ever since learning of my ex-wife Mimi re-marrying and was already planning on having kids with the new guy.
I’d never wanted kids, knowing full well that they’d never get a father they deserved. I was a broken man. It wasn't even fair to put that on my ex wives either.
They deserved a man who hadn’t seen the atrocities humans could do to each other. I would forever be burned from my work. The only thing that got me to sleep at night was the fact I had put these monsters away.
I always got my man, and that’s why I knew I would find Oliver’s killer.
I would find a way to put away the person who ended his life so callously, even if it didn’t turn out to be his wife, and if it did, then this was the last husband she’d be killing.
I would make sure of it.
I poured another, just as Craig helped a couple of cops remove one of their mates who was too inebriated to stand.
I remembered those days.
The days when I chose to lose my mind and sleep on someone’s couch, all because I didn’t want to go home to my wife and tell her about the three teenagers I’d found murdered by their own father because he’d been a mean drunk. I couldn’t pretend everything was all good in this world, because it wasn’t. This city wasn’t my safe haven anymore, it was becoming more and more like one of the bigger metropolises where crime was currency.
I just couldn’t do it anymore.
It’s why, after meeting the desirable woman in question, I knew this was going to be my last case.
There was something in the air that told me this case would end my career.
Chapter Three
Maurelle
I stood outside thebar, looking through the window for my next prey. It had been days since Oliver passed away and the detectives had finally stopped following me around all day. I knew I still had to be careful, but as long as I stayed inside these clubs, I knew the cops couldn’t follow.
I entered the bar area and took a seat at the end of the bar, closest to his table. I’d had days to discover what Colby James was into and where he liked to go when he had time for himself. It felt like I’d known him forever already.
“What’ll it be?” the bar attendant asked.
I looked up at him, noticing how young he was. When had it started? That I looked at people and noticed their youth?
