Page 9 of Evidence of Us

“You are highly trained, Mariska,” Kevin says. “This is where you shine. When it comes to actually talking to potential suspects, that will be different, but investigating is where I will have you lead, with us keeping an eye on you.”

“Let’s just comb through these and build the board,” Zeke says.

“I’ve seen your desk, and I’ve known you since we were kids. Your messy ass isn’t touching the board,” I say, and everyone laughs.

“Ouch, Riss. I missed you, too,” Zeke says teasingly. “You arrange, we can help.”

“Let’s do it,” I say confidently.

Chapter Six

Zeke

It’s been a longday, and this house is the last fucking place I want to be. I don’t feel like fighting with Meghan, and I know she wants to talk. Maybe if I just work on the case, she will leave me alone.

When I walk inside, Meghan comes around the corner and smiles. Great, she’s going to pretend to be this perfect little wife. Maybe I’ll get some peace and quiet. Really, she’s just desperate not to lose me because then she will actually have to get a job or find someone else to support her.

“Hey. How was work?” she asks.

“Long,” I admit.

“Wanna talk about it? I made dinner,” she offers.

“It’s just a case, so I can’t,” I say honestly.

“How was Mariska’s first day?” she asks cautiously, as she follows me down the hall to our room.

“Please, don’t start,” I sigh.

“I’m actually curious, Zeke.”

“She did amazing,” I say honestly. “This is truly a calling for her.”

“That’s good,” Meghan says, but I know there’s more. I turn and look at her. “What?”

“Say it. Whatever it is, just say it,” I tell her.

“Are you going to have to do like… Stakeouts and shit? Like…”

“She’s my partner, Meghan. Yes,” I say.

“Do you want her?” she asks.

“Do you want me to answer honestly?” I ask.

“No, lie to me,” she says with a heavy sigh. “Yes, I want to know.”

“I’d leave you for her if she said something,” I say. “I do want her, but right now, we are friends.”

“Will you tell me if that changes?” she asks, holding back tears.

“I will,” I say.

“I wish you didn’t hate me.” Tears roll down her cheeks, and I feel like a dickhead for not comforting her, but that’s what she wants.

“I wish you didn’t manipulate me. I wish you hadn’t betrayed your best friend. I wish I had been able to talk to her that day, and maybe she wouldn't have nearly died,” I say.

“I want to do better. I want to fix us,” she sniffles. “We used to be so happy.”