“No?” Lieutenant Morris laughs humorlessly. “Well the surveillance footage shows Dougherty murdering Kim, clear as day. As a matter of fact, he’s already confessed to the crime.”
I gape at him, guilt and horror eating at me. “Sir, I… I don’t know what to say.”
“Did you even bother running his name to check for warrants or anything?” He comes around his desk, shoulders bunched. “You didn’t, did you? You just let him go without even running his name.”
“Sir, he was just drunk and upset about his wife’s health and medical bills. He wasn’t doing anything when we came up on him. He was drunk but not causing any trouble. I… I can’t believe he killed someone.” I’m dazed as I hold his gaze. “I went easy on him because it was a holiday and I was just trying to… show compassion.”
“Yeah?” he rasps. “Well, he didn’t show David Kim any goddamned compassion, of that I can assure you.” Even though he’s human, his authority fills the room. “If you’d bothered to look into Dougherty’s background you’d have seen he was inprison for armed robbery and just got out six months ago. You made a judgment call, Collins. A bad one. Because you didn’t run a check on Dougherty, a man is dead.”
“Sir…” I let out a shaky breath. “Even if I had run Dougherty’s name, whether he had a record or not, he wasn’t acting belligerent or violent. He wasn’t doing anything other than leaning up against a wall. He’d… he’d just had too much to drink. I probably still wouldn’t have arrested the guy.”
“Oh, really?” he growls. “Well, Derek sure as shit thought you should. If you’d listened to your partner, maybe David Kim would be alive today.”
Guilt mixes with anger and betrayal. It’s obvious Derek went running to the lieutenant because he didn’t like my decision to let Dougherty off easy. The disloyalty makes my stomach turn. I knew he resented me pulling rank on him last night, but I hadn’t expected him to sell me out. Partners are supposed to have each other’s backs. We’d been on patrol all morning, and he hadn’t said a word about going to the lieutenant or about David Kim’s murder. He wanted me blindsided. If he’d had any decency, he would’ve given me a heads up.
Humans have no fucking loyalty.
“IA has to take a look at this,” the lieutenant says. “It’s standard procedure, I’m sure you know that.”
I tense, feeling numb. “Right.” This is a nightmare. Probably a career-ending nightmare.
“While IA looks into things you’re on paid leave.” He clears his throat. “I’ll need your badge and weapon for now.”
Robotically, I comply. I can’t believe what’s happening. I did a good deed and this is how it turned out. It doesn’t even really matter what the IA has to say about this situation. I’malready condemning myself. Even iftechnicallyI did nothing wrong, a man lost his life because of a decision I made.
The lieutenant says a few more things but I’m deaf to them. I’m in my head now, and all I can think about is getting out of his office. Once he dismisses me, I head straight to the parking garage before I run into any of my co-workers. I sit in my car, hands shaking on the steering wheel, and try to breathe. My eyes sting and there’s a lump in my throat the size of a golf ball.
When my phone buzzes, I tug it from my pocket. There’s a text from Derek.
I told you so.
Chapter One
Jude
Starting a new job is always hard, but when you have to do it because you disgrace yourself at your last one, it’s twice as gut-wrenching.
By some miracle, I’m not fired. Internal Affairs has closed the investigation into how I handled Marcus Dougherty the night of the robbery four weeks earlier. The findings are brief. No violation of policy. Discretion consistent with department guidelines. No disciplinary action recommended.
But being cleared doesn’t bring relief. The looks and the whispering behind my back are too much to take. I resign from Atlanta PD and take a job with Golden Peak PD in Montana instead. I need distance. A fresh start.
So here I am, about to start my new life with a new department in a new state.
I squint through the windshield. The snow picks up as I cross the Golden Peak town line, my headlights catching the flakes in their beam. A weathered WELCOME TO GOLDEN PEAK, POPULATION 4,217 sign greets me, but my wolf stirs restlessly, unsettled by the new territory and the unfamiliar scent of other wolves.
“Home sweet home,” I mutter. It’s going to be a real adjustment going from a big city police department to this little rinky-dink town. But change is what I wanted, and that’s what I’m going to get.
The town spreads out below me as I descend the mountain road, streets laid out in neat grids until the terrain gets too steepand they start to wind and meander. Old brick buildings line Main Street, their windows glowing warm against the darkness. It’s after 11:00 p.m., but even at this hour, one of the local pubs has a few trucks parked outside, and the drugstore’s neon sign buzzes faintly. The marquee of the art deco movie theater advertises weekend matinees and a Tuesday classic film series.
A plow truck works its way down the opposite side of Main, orange light creating weird shadows on the fresh snow. My wolf catches the scents of at least three different packs as we pass through downtown – territory markers subtle but clear, old boundaries marked and remarked over decades. Unlike the aggressive scent-marking back in Atlanta, these carry a sense of routine, of established order.
I pass a sprawling Craftsman-style house converted into what looks like a bookstore, a row of small shops with hand-painted signs, and a diner where the lights are still on, a few people visible through the steamy windows. The streets branch off the main drag at regular intervals, residential areas a mix of apartments and smaller bungalows with front porches and snow-covered gardens.
My GPS tells me to turn right onto Cedar Lane. The street is lined with massive old trees, their branches creating a canopy that’s probably gorgeous in summer but now just looks skeletal against the gray sky. Most of the houses here have been converted to apartments or offices. There’s a dentist, an accountant, a massage therapist, and another pub called The Fox & The Kettle.
I’m relieved when I see my destination on the left. The Blue Pine Apartments sit halfway down the block. My temporary home is a converted Victorian mansion, painted a faded blue with white trim, now split into eight units. I’m praying the wallsaren’t too thin. I haven’t lived in an apartment since college, and I’m not thrilled at the prospect.
I park my SUV in the small parking lot and grab my duffel from the passenger seat. The rest of my things can wait. I’m way too tired to unload everything after such a long drive, and frankly I don’t care if someone decides to steal all my worldly possessions. I’m not that attached to them. Truth be told, I’m not very attached to anything these days. I’ve made a conscious effort not to be.
