She gave him a sympathetic smile, and he had to leave, walk to his car in a daze.
Even if Spencer had warned him, it still came like a blow. Sitting in, blowing a breath. Turning that folded note in his hand, debating to open it, or wait, not to melt in the car if Spencer was saying his goodbyes.Dummy, why would he?Sighing, he opened it, his eyes a bit wide on those letters written in black pen.
I want nothing more than to be with you, Righteous, but I have to be me first and get to know him as a friend.
Exhaling, he had to close his eyes not to let his tears spill.Fuck. Fuck.His hands trembling, he gripped the wheel, wondering when he had turned into a pulp, losing it at every emotion ramming into his chest.Get a grip…Wiping somerogue tears off, he put the note in the glove compartment and started the car.
He had to go to the police station to answer some questions on the case later in the month, but even if they had found the corpses and that bunker, they still needed some answers.
Sinclair had sent a posh lawyer to have his ass, but Duncan was past his fears, dressed in his uniform to make sure they would have maybe a small respect.
They sat in an interrogation room, and Duncan had to breathe a bit, seeing his reflection in the mirror. Putting his hat on the table, he raked his hair. That posh lawyer sitting next to him, silent.
The detectives were sitting facing them, an older man with a greying moustache and a woman with dark hair in a bun.
“Mr Lambert… or should I say Lieutenant?” That cop smile.
Asshole…“Just Mr Lambert, thanks.”
“Alright. We understand from your testimonies at the hospital that you killed those men, but it’s unclear if the one in the forest was shot by you or Mr Galloway. He wouldn’t talk without a lawyer, but I guess that’s why you have one now…”
“Our firm makes sure we’re covered but I acted in my line of duty. It was us or them.”
“So you shot that man too.”
Duncan never flinched. “I did, yes. I could still shoot him after he shot me.”
“We found some of Mr Galloway’s prints on that gun.”
“He had to take it out of my hand, I was losing consciousness.”
“This is great help as it saves us from starting a case against Mr Galloway. Self-defence, of course, but those are hassle, still. Now, we could link the man in the bunker room to a certain Olivia Blakely. Rings a bell?”
Duncan nodded. “She bought my client’s painting at an auction and we went to her house once, supposedly so that my client could have a look at the paintings placement.”Fuck.“It didn’t end on a friendly note. Mr Galloway was intoxicated from something she had put in his joint and I had to take him away.”
“You’ve seen that man there? The one in the bunker room.”
“I recognized his eyes, yes. He was some sort of bodyguard, I guess.”
“Well, Mrs Blakely has her own versions on how that man went rogue, but we’re still looking. Let’s just run though the events again if you don’t mind. My colleague will lead this, she is new, if you don’t mind.”
Duncan laced his hands together, glancing at posh lawyer. “Fine.” Inwardly relieved that he had gotten Spencer off the hook. Trying to focus when just merely talking about him had messed him up.
How do months pass?Without noticing, maybe, busy with making sure his arm worked again, his hand, but even if he had spent a lot of time in PT, it was clear that he would not get back the full functionality of that right shoulder and arm, his hand neither, even if he could use it, the fingers were still very far from a firm grip. One that could hold a gun, let alone raise it. Training to switch to his left arm, it was excruciating, still, and he was clumsy as fuck. Drowning himself in tasks because those lonelynights were agony, when his absence was worse than during the days. No news on when he would be out. Martina had sent his heart in overdrive, telling him Spencer might have lost it and he would never be out.
Supervising a birthday party for kids that Spencer’s parents had thrown for their god kids and their rich friends’ kids, leaning against a pergola, he was wondering how the fuck he had ended up playing the babysitter. Catching a kid who had tripped and stumbled towards him, the others chasing him swarming around his legs, pulling at his belt as they giggled and laughed. Their hands were full of chocolate cake fudge, and it got smeared on his pants, his shirt. Duncan laughed in that misery, because unexpectedly, he couldn’t even be mad at the kids, a warm feeling in him as he took those sticky hands and brought them to a tap to wash up. Wincing at the pain in his right arm as they tugged on his hands.
Helping them, one of them started poking his muscles on his arm, fiddling with his watch. Unaware that he was being watched, the security cameras broadcasting to a phone in a running car. A finger grazing the screen, the nails sharp, poison green.
Later, fucking finally in his flat, Duncan could relax with a book in an armchair, but as soon as he had read a few lines, the world disappeared.
Waking with a jolt to a noise, but his gun was further, and his mind was still foggy to reach it. Blinking as he sat up and let the book fall to the floor. Eyes going wide as his guts clenched.
Spencer was leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed, a black silk shirt with rainbow dragonflies on it, his black leather pants, and knee high heeled boots, those green pointy nails, sharp. His small smile… His hair curling around his temples…What?
“I could have gutted you, Righteous. Tsk”
Walking to him, he slid in his lap, straddling him.
