“Look, buddy, we talked about this. I need you to cooperate with your mom, okay?” Brax says to his son.
I get the gist of the conversation in a few beats. As usual, Roman’s begging his dad to come get him from his mom’s. Emma’s cooking spaghetti, and he hates it because pasta resembles worms drowning in blood. He has quite the imagination, our Roman.
“You’ll be home in a couple of days, and we can go to Tuck’s Taco Truck, yeah?” Brax says with all the tenderness in the world. “And when you’re back, we can get that new shadow game you’ve been talking about,” Brax says and then chuckles. “Right. Return of the Shadow Gargoyle.”
On the outside, Brax has a hard exterior. He has to be at least six-foot-six, his hair and eyes competing for darkness. Tattoos cover his arms, and his muscular frame glows with a natural, burnished tan.
Apart from the ladies, most people cower when they see him. His exterior can come across quite intimidating, especially when he’s in work mode. However, when it comes to his five-year-old son and his friends, he’s a giant teddy bear.
The tall, tattooed single dad that is grumpy 99 percent of the time hates attention but attracts it from women whenever he goes out.
“So, what’s the verdict?” I ask him when he hangs up after saying bye.
“He’ll eat the worms,” Brax says, dunking his spoon in vanilla ice cream and candy.
I roll my eyes and shove a spoonful of the creamy texture into my mouth before saying, “I’m thrilled, but that’s not what I meant.”
He pins me with a cutting look, spoon in his mouth, and I immediately wince, earning me a snort and a head shake—a classic Braxton Langford response.
“It’s an off-the-books investigation, Chase,” he mutters, his voice tightening like the air around us. “You understand that, right?”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“My sergeant’s the only one who knows, and Harrison has sanctioned it, but that means I can’t go public. I can’t request reports, pull old case files, or leave a trail. I have to work this quietly—discreetly.”
I get right to the point, picking up where my thoughts left off. “The bag of drugs Elliot left with Laurel, we know it belonged to The Octopus. How are we supposed to unravel how my brother got himself tangled up with one of the biggest drug cartels in thecountry when you don’t have access to half the resources you normally would?”
Brax’s eyes level with mine. “You need to be patient.”
Easier said than done.
The symbol of The Octopus… It’s not a mark a person forgets. Brax showed me a photo once, the curving arms, the spiral ends that seemed to reach out from the plastic wrapped around the drugs looked alive. The Octopuswas a name whispered in dark corners of the streets, feared by everyone. No one had seen him. No one knew his real name. But everyone knew his drugs—every corner, every city, every alley. And if you crossed him? You didn’t just disappear. You were erased.
Sometimes I can still feel the chill that ran up my spine the day Brax told me that’s who Elliot was involved with.
“Elliot was gone for years, Chase,” Brax says. “He left Huxley Bay when you were seventeen. There’s so much about his life between then and when he died that we don’t know.” Brax’s words are honest and real.
That’s what I hate.
“We have nothing but what Laurel told you, and her story doesn’t match up to The Octopus’s MO. Elliot’s normal behavior when he came home is why you started to question Laurel’s story in the first place,” Brax reminds me. “At the moment, the only person who can tell us the truth is her. And I haven’t been able to find her since you gave her that money to leave town.”
“Well, maybe Marcus, their friend from Healing Wings, can tell us more about Elliot and Laurel. He should be here any minute,” I say, looking down at my watch.
“Chase?” I lift my head and examine the person that calls out to me, standing a few feet away from the table Brax and I are sitting at.
The man is a little shorter than me with jet black hair, brown eyes, and a crooked jaw.
Brax and I stand to greet him, taking turns shaking his hand and introducing ourselves.
“Elliot always said Lottie’s Scoops was the best ice cream parlor around,” Marcus says as he looks the building up and down while sitting next to Brax. “I was very sorry to hear about the accident. Elliot was a true friend,” Marcus says, his words filled with sincerity.
“Thanks, man,” I say, forcing the words out. “I never knew Elliot was at Healing Wings until he came home last year, but he spoke fondly about it, about you.”
“Your message said you wanted to know more about Elliot and Laurel?” Marcus asks.
“Yes.”
“She was adopted in Florida by the Healeys when she was a baby. She fell into the wrong crowd, started drinking and experimenting. When she was seventeen, the Healeys kicked her out after their son drowned on her watch. She was too high to notice.”
