He holds up his hands in surrender. “Don’t kill the messenger.”
“Nope, I’ll just kill him.”
Rochelle pats my cheek. “I’ll help you hide the body.”
For the first time this week, a grin plays on my lips, and then it fades all too quickly as my stomach rumbles and I’m faced with reality. “You guys should head out. I’ve taken up way too much of your time as it is.”
Miles rocks back on the heel of his sneakers. “Oh, we don’t mind, Charlie. You’re family.”
“I know,” I say with as much firmness as I can. “But I need to unpack and settle in before tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Rochelle lovingly whispers. More loudly, she adds, “Do you want food before we leave you?”
I shake my head. “I’m going to head to the grocery store before I get started.”
Rochelle nods and then reaches over to tug on the elbow of Mile’s sweatshirt. “Let’s leave her to it.” To me, she says, “Call if you need anything.”
“Anything at all,” Miles punctuates.
“I will,” I promise. And then they grab each other’shand and head toward the door. With one last glance, Miles closes it behind them.
Once I hear their footfalls on the stairs, I flick my gaze to Nathan’s box again. I immediately head to it, kicking off my shoes as I do. My eyes water a little as I trace my fingers across my scrawled script and release a shaky breath.
I became a cop to save people, but I couldn’t save my marriage. If I had, he wouldn’t have gone, and he would still be alive. I may not have loved him in the way married people do, but I still loved him as a person.
I will heal from this; I will move on, but I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for letting him walk out that door without a single word.
Chapter Three
Charlotte Mitchell
As I walk into the station, I tip my head in greeting at Genny. She’s where she always is – at the front desk. She’s older, maybe mid-forties, with corkscrew ringlets for hair that’s now gray, the strands dulling the red shine it once had when I was a kid. My father never liked her. She was too shrewd for his liking, but I always enjoyed her. I found her hard personality refreshing, sturdy in a world where mine was complete chaos. There were times, even though we barely spoke, that I wished she was my mother instead.
Maybe things would have been a hell of a lot different. Maybe my life would have turned out exponentially different than what I’d endured then, and now.
I place the coffee I had bought for her at her elbow as I walk by. I honestly don’t know what kind of coffee she drinks, but there’s a shop just down the street, and she’s never complained about the black, plain brew that I bringher every morning. She’s always seemed the type for no bullshit like creamer and flowery froth. It’s a nice thing, what I do for her, because as far as I can tell, she has no one in her life. Aside from that, no one in this station will drink the coffee available in the breakroom. It’s the cheap kind that will have you shitting in the toilet within minutes of gulping the first sip.
Well, everyone except Miles. I swear to God, even though he’s a health nut, he has a stomach of steel.
Genny grunts her thanks, and I smile a little before shouldering my backpack strap higher and leaving toward the hall and, soon after, the rows of desks in the main area of the station. It’s always a good idea to be friendly with those in charge, and Genny definitely falls under that category, even if it is unofficial.
It’s calming when I breathe in the familiar scent of the station. I make my way past everyone else’s desk, but the feeling of security is quickly dashed away when I spot my lonely corner where I was placed when my application was accepted. The time-out corner is what I like to call it. Because I’m me. Because I’m new. Because of my father.Because of my mother.
I set my backpack down by the leg of my desk and nudge my chair back with my boot. There’s a pile of paperwork neatly stacked at the edge of my desk’s surface that I have to get through today, especially if the captain plans to bench me like Miles said he would.
Arguing with Captain Visser would be easy, but it wouldn’t get me anywhere. I came to that realization as I lay on my new, lumpy bed last night. He’s steelier than Genny, an iron gate that I have no hopes of breaching when it comes to his orders, and trust me, in the past, I’ve tried. But here, I have no say. Here, I have no authority; they’ve all made that plain as day, and it’s not just becauseI’m a rookie. To them, I’m not clean. I’m a sinner in the eyes of the law, just like my family.
Thanks, Dad,I think heavenward, the thought dripping with sarcasm.
I flex my jaw once as I take a seat and scoot my chair up to the desk. I’m determined to prove them wrong if it’s the last thing I do on this cruel earth. I love my father, and on some level, I loved my mother, but what they did was unforgivable.
I’m not them. I’ll never be them.
I reach for my pen, and as soon as my belly touches my desk’s edge, a shadow slithers over my desk. I can tell who it is by the aftershave he insists on using.
With a slow, agitated swivel, I turn toward Fredrick. His bald head shines in the station’s high fluorescent lights, and his curved and sparse eyebrows are shot up in a gleeful way. I know that whatever pops out of his mouth is really going to get me going, and not in a good way.
He was my father’s bully, and naturally, I inherited him.
