“Gremlin…” she grumbled at him fondly, but the cat only gazed expectantly up at her. Won over by the white and orange beast’s wide, blue eyes, Maggie went to the cabinet and pulled out the container of dry food. Not long later, the bowl had been topped off and the feline was munching happily, his human servant forgotten.
“You’re welcome, you bastard.” She shook her head and went to the fridge. It was then she realized she needed to go shopping and that most of the kitchen was barren.
“Fuck…”
There were stale donuts left in a box on the counter next to the stove and she decided this was the simplest answer to her hunger. Half way through her pathetic excuse for a meal, she realized she was out of milk. Maggie swore again, tossing the remainder of the pastry into the garbage.
Her gaze was drawn back to the cat, who now sat washing his paws and face.
“At least one of us is eating good around here,” she remarked to nobody in particular. She definitely wasn’t speaking to Gremlin, that would have been mental.
He blinked up at her, then turned with his tail in the air and wandered off.
Having given up on eating, Maggie left the kitchen as well. She wanted to get out of this dress, close all the curtains against the morning sun, and get some much needed rest.
She finally kicked off her loafers and started to undress on her way into the bedroom. The clothes landed in a pile on the floor, forgotten as she tugged a shirt on and slipped into the bathroom with the intention of brushing her teeth.
It was typical that on her one free night she’d been called into work. This happened often and she was beginning to think it was on purpose.
The universe was fucking with her and had been for the last four years. It didn’t matter that she was sick of the shit or that she’d done everything in her power to keep her head down. There were still those in the department who viewed her as a pariah and she really couldn’t blame them. Getting caught having sex with your superior had a way of alienating people.
Despite wanting to blame her former lieutenant, Declan Cooper, she had owned her mistake, taken the hazing from her peers, transferred to another department, and even gone so far as to switch to the dreaded night shift. None of it mattered. Her reputation as someone willing to sleep her way up the chain of command wouldn’t be so easily shaken. Meanwhile, Declan had become captain and since gotten married. The last she overheard, his new wife was already expecting their first child.
Maggie swallowed the envious bile that rose in her throat. She shouldn’t be comparing her life to somebody else, and yet here she was, letting her ex live rent free in her head.
“Fuck,” she swore again, running a hand through her loose hair as she tried to push the dark thoughts of the past away. It was better if she focused on the case anyway; and what of that odd priest she’d met?
To be honest, she’d turned down his help because it had taken her by surprise. Why would a clergyman want to ride along with a cop? It seemed like their professions weren’t compatible and yet he’d seemed so adamant. Maybe she should consider letting him consult. The least she could do was keep him in mind if his expertise was needed, but she doubted it.
“I don’t need a priest,” she whispered, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Maggie had gone to church as a child. She remembered Sunday school and learning about the various stories of the Bible, but she’d found little use for those things in her daily life.
She had learned long ago that putting your faith in anyone was foolish. People in general weren’t trustworthy. They lied, cheated, and abused every chance they got. Yeah, she went on dates, had even toyed with the idea of romance in her twenties, but it had become a necessary ritual to satiate her body’s needs and nothing more. Love was foolhardy, dangerous, and not on her agenda.
Maggie stood staring at herself in the mirror. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt with the Alaska State Fair design printed across the front. It was old, from one of the years she’d gone as a teen with friends, and for a brief moment, sadness welled in her heart. She couldn’t help but wondered what the priest and congregation must be feeling at the loss of Father Abrams.
“Father Anatoly,” she whispered, as though to speak his name might be to summon him forth. The sound of her own voice shook the clinging emotion away and with a frown she hardened herself.
The priesthood, she thought, had the right of it. It was better to be celibate and hide your heart away than to risk trusting it to another. Love was a waste of time, a frivolity that others might afford themselves, but Maggie found she didn’t need.
Her eyes fell to the lonely toothbrush in its holder and though her determination wavered at how sad it seemed, the detective knew without a doubt that she was better off alone.
Chapter Four
“Dobryy vecher, Detective,” came a very familiar, very Russian voice.
Maggie jumped. This damn priest really needed to stop sneaking up on her. What was he even doing at the station anyway? She spun to face him, prepared to ask him that very question, when she spotted her lieutenant standing next to Father Anatoly. A bad feeling lurched in her gut at the sight of them together.
“Father, Lieutenant…” She greeted them both, her tone clipped. She was in a dreadful mood to begin with as her evening had not gone as planned. Since waking up for her shift things had gone from bad to worse. It was the most Monday of Thursdays she’d ever experienced.
First, she’d stepped in Gremlin’s puked up hairball. Then the water in her apartment wouldn’t stay hot long enough for her to get completely rinsed off so her shower had mostly been cold. She would have to send in a maintenance order to the building manager the second she had a chance and she was dreading it. Last, but not least, some asshole had bumped into her in the elevator, spilling hot coffee all over the front of her blouse. The only silver lining was at least she hadn’t been wearing white tonight, but she’d still never get the coffee stain out of the turquoise fabric.
Now, to top it all off, here was her slimy lieutenant with the last person she wanted to deal with: that priest. Judging by the shit-eating grin on his face, Lieutenant Martin was about to make her life hell.
She caught Anatoly’s gaze drop to her shirt. No doubt he was taking in the still wet stain, but then she realized one of the buttons was undone and her lacey, pink bra was showing through the gap where her breasts naturally stretched the garment. She should have reached up and buttoned it, but Maggie was feeling spiteful and left it, not caring what the clergyman thought of her.
Martin had seen it too, and his smirk only widened. “Need a little help with that, Detective Boone?” He started to reach out toward her chest, feigning that he would grab her. His hand didn’t get far.
Father Anatoly caught the police officer’s wrist, his expression suddenly stern and protective. “Perhaps it would be best if you explained why I am here?” he said in his syrupy accent, releasing the other man.
