“Yes?”
“Please take care of yourself. I know you’re going to find who did this, but I don’t want to lose you too.”
“I’m okay,” I lied. Marianne had enough on her plate, she didn’t need to carry my pain as well.
“Well, make sure it stays that way. And if for any reason you need me, please pick up the phone and call. You’re family and I don’t turn my back on my family.”
My chest contracted.
Unknowingly, Marianne had just given me everything I needed before I even knew I needed it.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I said goodbye and ended the call before looking down at the file on my desk. I hated that I wasn’t getting anywhere and I needed a new idea, but I was coming up blank, and sitting here staring at the same boring walls day in day out wasn’t helping.
Grabbing my stuff, I headed out, this time on a mission. I was heading to Cassidy’s house. The home we were building together now felt like a prison. I’d rented an apartment, not far from the station. It was small and shitty and smelt like bad Indian takeout but I didn’t care. I didn’t plan on spending much time there anyway so I might as well hate the place. I had the next couple of days off and the plan was to pack as much as I could, so the realtor could come in.
Two months didn’t seem like a long time, but in so many ways it’d been a lifetime. Unlocking the door I stepped inside and immediately grabbed at my chest. It was like there was no air. Rushing towards the back doors, I flung open the huge bifolds and stepped out into the cool night breeze. I knew this would be hard, but I hadn’t counted on it being this bad.
It took a while but eventually my pounding heart slowed enough that I felt like it wasn’t going to burst through my rib cage, allowing me to breathe again. Knowing the house wasn’t going to pack up itself, I headed into the garage and dragged a bunch of boxes I’d had delivered inside.
I wasn’t ready to go into the bedroom, so I started packing the kitchen, making sure to separate things as I went. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I wrapped coffee mugs in old newspapers before placing them in the boxes. It felt like only yesterday when Cassidy and I had stood here, putting things in cupboards and arguing over what to keep and what to throw. In theory, combining two lives into one sounded great. In practice, not so much. We each had ugly coffee mugs the other hated but neither of us were ready to concede and throw them away. In the end, after some superhot makeup sex on the kitchen floor, we’d given up arguing and put them all in the cupboard.
I hated the memories that were smacking me around from every direction. Finding a coffee mug made me laugh. The broken zipper sitting on the bench had me smiling like a loon, and the weird, pink-colored glass bowl that sat in the middle of the dining table made me want to drop it on the tiles and watch as it shattered into a million pieces just so I never had to look at it again. Cassidy and I both hated that bowl, but apparently it was expensive and it was a gift so we needed to be respectful. I’d suggested being respectful in the back of the cupboard, but Cass was a better person than I was. So as I carefully wrapped it in paper, I set it down in the box labeled ‘Hayden.’ As much as I thought it was trash, I couldn’t let it go. It held too many memories to donate it and I wasn’t ready to part with it.
It was almost sunrise when I collapsed on the couch, needing a break. The kitchen, dining, living areas were all done. Everything was boxed up, separated, and ready to go. After punching one of the fluffy throw pillows, I wriggled down and closed my eyes. I needed some sleep before I attacked the rest of the house. The bedroom was next and I wasn’t ready. I don’t think I ever would be. Even though sleep had eluded me for weeks, I was desperate. My eyes were itchy and my body aching. If the dreams came, the ones that ended with me waking up, covered in sweat and panting heavily, I’d deal with them like I always did. I’d shake them off and then spend a couple of hours running through the park, trying to out run my demons.
Closing my eyes, I begged for sleep to take me away. Pulling the throw rug that’d been draped over the back of the couch over me, I snuggled down surrounded by Cassidy’s sweet scent. Something I’d missed more than anything these last few weeks.
Crash!
“What the fuck?” I gasped, sitting bolt upright.
I’d been sound asleep, blissfully unaware of the world around me when I was startled awake by something being knocked over.
“Ouch!” a cry came.
Someone was in the house. Someone was in my fucking house while I slept on the couch and I had no idea.
Years of training ingrained in me, had me springing into action. As quietly as I could, I moved towards the kitchen where I’d dumped my shit when I’d fallen through the door last night. Grabbing my phone I texted Dickson to let him know what was going on. I might’ve been ready to deal with this on my own, but telling someone what was going down was a responsibility I couldn’t shake. Shoving my badge in my pocket, I picked up my gun and crept across the room.
Someone was in the master suite. My master suite. The master suite I’d shared with Cassidy. The one where her clothes still hung in the closet. The one with the purple comforter we’d snuggled under after making love with the moonlight streaming through the oversized windows.
As I edged closer to the door, I could hear muttering on the other side. Someone was definitely in there and it sounded like they were making themselves at home. Fuckwits. I don't know if they hadn’t seen me passed out on the couch or they just didn’t care. Either way, I was taking the fuckers down. No one broke into my home and got away with it. No one.
Nudging open the door, I peeked inside trying to get a feel for what was going on. When I didn’t see anyone, I pushed further.
With my gun drawn, the angel on my shoulder was telling me I should wait or call for backup, but I couldn’t do it. If they were in my house, Cassidy’s house, I wasn’t about to take this lying down. I’d lost Cassidy, I wasn’t about to let someone steal her shit too. Stepping into the bedroom, the bed was covered in some of Cassidy’s favorite outfits. The sparkly dresses she’d worn on stage, the floor-length gowns that’d graced the covers of magazines, even one of her very first country singer outfits. I’d never forget the day she unpacked that one. Pulling it out of the suit bag, she laughed hysterically. When I’d found her standing in the walk-in robe, bent over laughing her ass off, I’d thought she was on drugs. Then she showed me. It was the weirdest clothing combination I’d ever seen. A short denim skirt, a flannel button-down and then this ugly, baby-poo-brown-colored jacket covered in rhinestones and fringes. Damn it was ugly. But I’d tried everything I could think of to coax Cass into trying it on for me, but she was stubborn. Stubborn but sentimental. No matter how hard it made her laugh or how much she swore black and blue she’d never put it on again, she refused to throw it out. What the fuck it was doing lying in the middle of the bed was another story though.
Another step and I could see on the floor beside the bed was a pile of expensive shoes and handbags.
Before I could move, a noise from the wardrobe caught my attention. Memory lane would have to wait.
With my back to the wall, I shimmied along the plaster, keeping low and quiet. Whoever this asshole was going through the closet and thinking it was okay to play dress ups with Cassidy’s clothes had another fucking thing coming.
“Yeah, I wish,” I heard a dejected voice mutter barely a heartbeat before I sprung around the corner with my gun drawn.
“Police, hands up, fucker,” I swore as I came face to face with the person trying on my dead fiancée’s favorite shoes.
10
