Page 9

I leaned back in my chair. “You do?”

“My office. Now.”

The line went dead.

I buttoned my jacket and walked out. In the elevator, my reflection stared back from the polished metal: clean-shaven, calm, and expensively composed. Nothing suggested I had spent the early hours in the basement with blood on my gloves and Jessica’s body cooling on a metal table.

I arrived at the Brentwood Police Department and made my way through the familiar hallways toward the chief’s office. The place buzzed with the usual quiet tension of officers at their desks and the faint clatter of keyboards and ringing phones.

Colin Grant was already there when I stepped inside, slouched comfortably in a chair near the window. He had one ankle crossed over his knee, looking far too at ease in a building his father essentially owned.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the man of the hour,” Colin said, his tone playful as ever. “How was your date, lover boy? You left the roommate breathing. She’s already started talking.”

I leaned back in the chair, letting a faint smile touch my lips. Colin was reliable in his way, loyal to a fault. That was why I kept him around. But he didn’t understand that. He never really had. Colin’s father being the police chief had been more useful to me than anything else.

Chief Thomas Grant’s head snapped up. “You’re getting sloppy and reckless, Richard! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“The roommate was barely on my radar,” I replied evenly. “I didn’t even know Jessica had one until I got to her place. She caught a glimpse at best. Nothing that will stick.”

Colin rubbed his jaw and gave a short laugh. “Even though my scenes get messy, I lock it down so tight nothing traces back.”

I studied the chief for a moment, then let my gaze drift back to Colin. We’d known each other since childhood, and our parents had known each other their entire lives. We came from the same circles, the same society, and the same expectations. Colin had always assumed that made us the same. He was wrong. That history bound us, but it didn’t make us equals.

The thought slid through my mind as I looked at him. I liked Colin because he was loyal, helpful, useful. But even that usefulness had its limits. I had no need for anyone, not even him. Colin needed people. His family, their approval, that power rush he got from the kill. He enjoyed raping his victims almost as much as ending them.

I killed because it felt right. Necessary. Not for power, not for anything outside myself. I might fuck them if they offered, but I had no need to rape. I mean look at me, I can get women to spread their legs for me with a smile and a knife in my hand.

The chief pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply as he slammed the file onto his desk. Jessica Harlan’s name typed neatly on the tab. His face was tight with clear irritation. “I am sick of this shit. Every time you two go off and indulge, I’m the one stuck doing damage control. Revising reports, leaning on witnesses, burying details that never should have existed. You keep creating more work than I have any patience left to handle.”

I hated being lectured like a child. The scolding tone grated, as if we were still teenagers being dragged in for joyrides instead of grown men.

I adjusted my cufflinks calmly and let a sharper smile creep in. “Poor Thomas. Always the martyr with the mop. How terrible it must be to wield all that power and still play janitor for us. The roommate will blow over. People say ridiculous things when they are grieving. It’ll fade.”

Thomas leaned forward, voice sharp and frustrated. “It doesn’t fade until I make it fade. I’m the one who has to fix this, and you keep handing me extra fires. Colin at least handles his business directly. No games, no dates, he takes what he wants and cleans up properly afterward. You leave witnesses who can describe cars and faces.”

Colin shrugged, glancing my way with a half grin that took any real sting out. “Rich, don’t take it personal, just be a little more careful next time.”

“Careful would be ideal,” Thomas snapped. “But instead I’m fielding specific descriptions from Marcy Bell this morning. Your car, your name, the whole evening. She is worried and detailed. For now we let her talk until she starts sounding like every other grieving roommate. No one touches her. I decide the next steps. I’m expected to keep this department clean, and you two keep making that harder. I’m not running cleanup for your hobbies indefinitely.”

I met Thomas’s glare with cool amusement. “Of course not. Heaven forbid I inconvenience you, Chief. I’ll try to keep my fun less messy for your sake. Or at least not leave witnesses.”

Colin chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, just don’t make the old man have a brain aneurysm on our account. We’ve got a good thing going here.”

Thomas pointed between us, jaw still tight. “This is not a joke. Keep your heads down and your traces light. I will handle the department. You two stop creating new problems for me. We are done here.”

I stood, with a final nod to Thomas before heading out. The weight of Thomas’s scolding lingered like a bad aftertaste, but it changed nothing about how I intended to operate.

Colin and I stepped out of the department into the cool air, the heavy doors swinging shut behind us. Colin fell into step beside me, glancing over his shoulder once before pulling a small baggie from his jacket pocket. He shook it lightly, the white powder shifting inside.

“Got some more coke,” he said with a grin. “Pure shit this time. You in?”

I kept walking, eyes on the street ahead. “Not tonight.”

“Come on, man. We should go on a hunt. It’s been a minute. Find someone fun, make a night of it.”

I shook my head once. “No. I have plans.”

Colin laughed under his breath. “Alright man, your loss. I’ll see you next week.” He gave me a solid pat on the back, then turned and headed back toward the department doors.