Page 104 of No Good Fight

“You didn’t fail just because Mrs. Vance got there first.”

I swallow down the nausea that creeps in at the thought of what would have happened if that old woman didn’t come out cane blazing in Alex’s defense. “That isn’t what it felt like.”

“No,” she says quietly. “I know.”

That lands harder than her trying to offer comfort would have. She knows because she spent years measuring safety by what hurt least, by which door was closest, by what mood a man was in when the room changed around her. She knows because this helpless feeling I can’t escape is one she lived with for years.

Remy clears his throat after a second. “I’m going to keep a unit near the apartment tonight. Not sitting directly outside because I’d rather not spook him off if he comes back, but close enough. I’ll also put another request in on Preston’s known associates and see if anyone matches what Alex or Mrs. Vance saw. The shoe detail is ridiculous, but with Mrs. Vance, I’m not ruling anything out.”

“I want the name of every person he’s contacted since he came back,” I say.

Remy’s face goes flat. “And I want to win the lottery and retire with Parker somewhere no one commits crimes before breakfast or after I go to bed at night. We don’t always get what we want.”

Alex shifts beside me, and my mouth closes before I say the next thing on my mind. The thing about finding the name myself. The thing about not caring whether the method would hold up in court. The thing about taking the glove, the tread, the partial description, and every rotten piece of Preston’s life apart until something breaks open.

Remy watches me swallow it. Because every single person in this room knows that I can’t be the one to do this. As much as I’m obsessed with her, I can’t be the one to catch the bastard hurting her.

“Good,” he says, quieter. “Keep doing that.”

Alex looks between us. “Doing what?”

“Not making my job harder,” Remy says. He reaches for his jacket from the back of one of my kitchen chairs and softens the words with a look at her. “Call me if anything changes. Either of you. And Alex, I know Mrs. Vance said she was calling your family, but I’m hoping she was too busy insulting officers to follow through.”

Alex’s face changes just enough to tell me she hadn’t let herself think that far ahead.

My phone buzzes on the counter.

We all look at it.

Josh’s name fills the screen.

The room goes still in a different way.

Alex closes her eyes. “Fantastic.”

I don’t pick it up. The call rings until it stops, then starts again almost immediately. Josh. Again. I can picture him wherever he is, pacing with one hand in his hair and Nia close enough to keep him from putting his fist through a wall. I can picture the moment he heard. Mrs. Vance, Remy, someone at the station, it doesn’t matter. The story is loose now. Alex on the floor. Masked man. Open apartment. Ryder on the phone while it happened.

I reach for the phone, but Alex’s hand closes over mine.

“Not yet,” she says.

“He’s your brother.” I hesitate.

“I know. And I love him. But right now, I can’t do his fear on top of mine.”

I turn my hand under hers and lace our fingers together. “Okay.”

The call stops. A text comes in before I can set the phone down.

Josh: Answer your fucking phone.

Remy sighs. “That’ll be fun later.”

Alex lets out a weak laugh, and it scrapes through my chest because it’s too small for her. I hate that Preston keeps reducing her to these fucked up versions of herself. A small laugh or thin voice instead of the sass and sarcasm I love so much. Shaking hands hidden in sleeves. I want every piece of her back in the room at full volume. I want her loud and stubborn and threatening me with plastic utensils because she knows I’ll stand there and take it and then ask her for more.

Remy leaves after making me promise twice not to go near Alex’s apartment tonight. Alex walks him to the door with me a step behind her, not because she needs me there, but because I can’t stand it any other way. When the door closes, I lock it, check it, then force myself not to check it again while she watches.

“Do it,” she says.