Her mother stood just as a shadow fell across the room. There he was, blocking their way to the kitchen, blocking them from any kind of normal life.
She didn’t miss the full body shudder that rocked her mother’s frame. He did, though.
“Why are you here?” asked her mom. “You shouldn’t be here.”
He stepped inside and her mom stumbled backward, almost losing her balance. The small show of fear made him laugh. Even as he crowded her mom, his eyes found hers, burning with a perverse anticipation. One of his hands shot out, curling around her mom’s upper arm.
“Did you forget?” he whispered into her mom’s ear, never breaking eye contact with her. “I go where you go.”
NINE
Cold air blasted over Josie’s body as she walked into the lobby of Denton Memorial Hospital. It felt amazing. More amazing than it should. The air conditioning in her SUV was definitely broken. She knew she should have a mechanic look at it, but who the hell had time for that? Especially with the Balloons and Tunes Festival still wreaking havoc on the city and Chief Chitwood’s overtime budget. Josie saluted the elderly woman stationed at the reception desk as she passed by. She no longer needed to check in or flash her credentials. They were on a first-name basis.
Turner stood next to a bank of elevators, his back against the wall, one foot crossed over the other. As usual, he was in a full suit. It was beige, almost the same color as Josie’s Denton PD polo shirt. Two unruly curls fell over his forehead as he bent his head to his phone. One thumb scrolled rhythmically over the screen. Was he even looking at anything or was the activity akin to using a fidget toy?
“Late two days in a row,” he remarked as she drew closer, not bothering to glance up. “You know, just because you and the LT are doing the deed regularly doesn’t give you special privileges.”
Josie stopped in her tracks. Anger surged through her, hot and lightning quick. Her mouth opened, a savage tirade about to pour forth. Then she clamped it shut, realizing that was exactly what Turner intended. She’d lost count of the misogynist sexist pigs she’d worked with over the course of her career, but they all used the same tired old playbook. They taunted her to throw her off-kilter. Getting her emotions stirred up distracted her from giving one hundred percent to her job, which gave them actual reasons to bully her.
They wanted her anger so they could mock it. They wanted her self-doubt so they could play the unequivocal experts. They wanted her to feel small so they could feel big. They wanted her to feel stupid so they could lord their superiority over her. They wanted her to feel intimidated so they could feel in control. They wanted her to feel afraid so they could feel powerful.
Fuck. That.
It wasn’t about her anyway. It was always about them, and Josie had stopped giving them what they wanted a long time ago.
Besides, she was pretty sure something else was going on with Turner. He hadn’t been this nasty in months. Noah’s operant conditioning experiment with the jars had worked well on him. The name-calling, sexist remarks, and inappropriate comments had decreased significantly. Flashes of humanity beneath his asshole exterior had become more frequent. Despite the crass, inappropriate and demeaning words that had just come out of his mouth, Josie wasn’t sure he was quite as abhorrent as he wanted her to believe. Being a total prick wasn’t that hard. It wasn’t even mildly taxing. When you didn’t care about anyone or their feelings, it was nothing to hurt them. Sometimes, it was a whole lot of fun.
Except that Josie didn’t think Turner was having fun. It was clear that he managed to amuse himself at times, but he put a lot of effort into being a douchebag. Not for the first time, Josiewondered which was the façade. This dickhead who’d just said something foul to get a rise out of her, or the kind, respectful investigator who had had lunch with her sister whenever he was in New York City. Because there was a façade, and it was hiding something. Whether it was more douchebaggery or an actual good guy was another question.
While she refused to respond to his words with the ire he was probably hoping for, she was still considering accidentally “tripping” and knocking him flat on his ass. Mostly because she couldn’t figure out how to make a knee to the balls look like an accident.
She really, really didn’t want to choose violence today.
Dropping into the box breathing she’d learned, which was supposed to regulate her autonomic system and calm her down, Josie catalogued the times shehadn’twanted to physically assault Turner.
When he’d saved her from getting mauled by a dog.
When he’d saved her from falling down a stairwell.
When he’d crawled into a dark, enclosed space for her without a single mocking word about her claustrophobia and its origins.
When he’d broken rules, put his own job at risk, to get her information after Noah was abducted.
When he’d suggested that they were getting along.
So what the hell was this?
“If I were getting special privileges,” she said flatly, “you’d be unemployed.”
With a sigh, Turner dropped his phone into his jacket pocket and pushed off the wall. He wouldn’t look at her, but Josie saw the purple smudges under his eyes and the pallor beneath his beard. Punching the down button between the elevators, he said, “I’m sorry. That—that was disgusting and uncalled for.”
Josie’s mouth gaped open. Turner didn’t do apologies.
His long fingers stabbed at the button again before resting at his side, tapping away.
Recovering, Josie said, “What is wrong with you?”
Now, his blue eyes met hers. They were weary and sad. Had she ever seen him sad? Had she ever seen him anything but smug or amused?
