“I don’t know how the man can be such a damn gossip.”
“So it is gossip, then?”
“Frustration.”
“And Dr. Floris accepted you back into her office after?”
“More or less.”
I could feel Ax’s grin more than I saw it. He knew me. He knew if I wanted something badly enough, nothing would stand in my way, even if I had to spend thousands of dollars on new computer equipment to get through the door.
“I like this one,” he said. “Listen to her, Phoenix. You won’t listen to us. You won’t listen to your doctors. But based on that ice water you’ve got in front of you, you’re listening to someone. Your therapist of all people. … I’m proud of you.”
I nodded, eyes locked on the water.
“Having a strong woman in your life isn’t all that bad you know.”
31
PHOENIX
Just then Jagg pushed through the door.
Wearing a beanie, black leather jacket, and combat boots, Jagg breezed up to the bar looking more like his former Navy SEAL self than a jacked-up sleuth. New ink peeked out of his collar, connecting to the tattoos that covered his torso and arms. Jagg loved his ink. Gage was behind him, stopping to chat with a couple off-duty cops about a client he’d recently taken who was getting severely bullied at high school.
“Private dick.” Ax nodded to Jagg as they shook hands.
“Mister private dick to you.” His hand clamped my shoulder. “How you doing?”
I dipped my chin.
The detective settled into the seat next to me and ordered a beer from the blushing bartender.
“Anything new on the chicken case?” Ax asked him.
The ‘Chicken Case’ was the name given to the string of electrocuted chicken parts being washed up all over town. The citizens were on edge, and rightly so. Spirit and I hadridden up on one of the headless animals earlier in the week. Not pretty.
Jagg released an exhale, a brief, rare display of fatigue in the man’s demeanor. Max Jagger was a legendary SEAL in the Navy, a ruthless soldier who led each mission as if it were his last, and when he’d gotten out, he’d carried that resolve to his new job as a homicide detective. Jagg had a wicked—and I do meanwicked—intelligence that helped him put together pieces of a puzzle that no one else even noticed were there. The man put his life into his work, and although he’d never admit it, I believed he got too connected to his cases. Took each case personally. A challenge, or perhaps a vigilante need for justice for those who could no longer speak.
“Well, we now know how the chickens were dismantled.” Jagg said.
“Phoenix’s axe outside?” Ax quipped.
“Scissors. The sick bastard cut them to pieces before, and after, electrocuting them. Like a mad scientist.”
“Sick. Are you heading up the case? I thought you only worked homicides.”
“The fried chickens potentially link to one of my homicides.” His gaze flickered to me. I noticed.
Ax signaled for Frank. “Well, I say spending the day in chicken guts gets you a free shot.”
“Chicken guts were only half my day. The other six hours were spent sitting out in my truck trying to get a bead on the kingpin of a local meth ring.”
“I thought your mom moved away,” I quipped. It felt good. Like the old me.
Ax laughed.
Jagger grinned. “Ah, well, how sweet, Feen. Looks likesomeone’s getting their sense of humor back. Feelin’ okay after that one? Need to stretch first next time?”
