Fatal Consequences

“I’m sorry, what, Captain?”

Rider had to have misheard what he thought he heard. He hadn’t been involved in narcotics since he’d been a rookie. And he’d done it the one time.

And that one time had ruined his life irrevocably. He’d lost the woman he loved by one tiny lie. Not something he wanted to think about right now. Or ever.

“They need help with an undercover case. They’re strapped right now. I know you’ve done undercover before. It’s been a few years, but you did a damn good job on that case.”

A damn good job? Yeah, of messing up his life.

The torture. The pain etched on her face at what she thought he did. He would never touch another woman. Never! Since that day, he’d never been able to get her devastated face out of his mind. And damn it, he had tried. So many times.

He loved her so much it hurt to breathe sometimes. He’d never stopped loving her, even after all this time. She’d shoved him out of her life without giving him a chance to explain. Of course, it wasn’t as if he could explain the real reason he’d let that woman cling to him. He couldn’t have told her he was undercover trying to take down one of the largest drug dealers in the city. He couldn’t have told her that the woman he had his arm around was nothing more than a means to an end to make the bust.

He hadn’t been able to tell her shit.

All he ever wanted was to be a detective. To solve crimes. To help people. To make a difference.

Being a beat cop had sucked at times. But that’s where everyone started. Nobody magically moved into detective status with a snap of their fingers. He had been prepared to crawl his way up the ladder. Because being a detective was his dream.

Just like his dad.

Three years on the force and given the opportunity to go undercover to show off his skills, he couldn’t pass it up. He couldn’t say no.

Well, he could now. Because he worked homicide. He was a detective.

“I’ll pass.”

“I need you on this, Rider.”

“I can’t.”

Captain Wilson stared at him for the longest time. “I’ve heard a few rumors.”

Okay. He could imagine what those rumors were. He wasn’t going to ask though.

“That you’ve been withdrawn. Not yourself. I have to agree.”

He wouldn’t disagree either. Getting stabbed so damn close to his heart and nearly dying changed a person. It made them reevaluate their life. He had decided, after much contemplation lying in the hospital, his life was shit. And he should’ve died that day. That was the conclusion he’d come up with. What was the point of anything anymore?

But even if that hadn’t happened, he wouldn’t have taken the undercover gig. Not after what happened the last time.

“Which means I’m not up to the task, Captain. So the answer is no.”

Captain Wilson leaned back in his chair, sighing. “I see I’m not going to win this argument. I have to agree with your assessment. You’re not up to the task. I’m not even sure you’re up to the task of anything at this point.”

He sat up straighter in his chair. “Now, wait a minute, Cap—”

“You nearly died and I’m not sure you’ve processed that. Perhaps you need to take a step back. I let you come back too soon.”

From his job? From his livelihood? From the one thing keeping him sane? From the only thing forcing him to wake up every day?

Hell no!

“I’m fine. I work my cases with precision and all the due diligence they deserve. I’m focused. But I don’t want to go undercover. That’s a whole other ball game I don’t want to play around with.”

Captain Wilson didn’t answer his plea. Instead, he grabbed the phone and asked Detective Stromberg and Powell to join them. What the hell was his captain up to?

The two men entered without a sound and stood by the door. He didn’t even look in their direction or offer a greeting.

“Stromberg!” his captain barked. “What are your thoughts on Rider and his performance lately?”

Was he serious?

Rider turned his gaze toward Stromberg, cocking a brow. Challenging him to say the wrong thing. He was done caring what others thought of him, but he would fight anyone that tried to take his livelihood away. Stromberg would be wise to choose his words carefully.

Damn the captain!

Putting his fellow detectives under the spotlight. He’d been a jackass to everyone the last four months since he’d been stabbed. The other day, Stromberg tried to offer him an olive branch and invited him to watch a baseball game. He loved baseball. But he’d declined—and was rather curt about it.

No matter how hard he glared at them, he knew they were about to throw him under the bus. He could sense it like a live wire was about to scorch his skin.

“He’s laser focused and doing his job, sir.”

Captain Wilson growled, as if unsatisfied with that answer. Rider wanted to clap Stromberg on the back for being on his side. He understood the silent message.

“Powell?”

Detective Powell, or rather Tate, as most people called him, cleared his throat. “He’s been an asshole, but he gets shit done.”

Tate produced a shit-eating grin as if he enjoyed getting him in trouble. Stromberg was side-eyeing Tate, like he couldn’t believe he said that.

“Okay, Rider. You’re getting glowing recommendations from your co-workers.”

He damn near chuckled. Tate called him an asshole. How was that glowing?

“But what I’m actually hearing is you’re so focused on your cases, you’re not taking care of yourself.”

“What is this, Captain? Are you suspending me for doing my job?” He stood up so fast, his chair scraped backward against the floor, nearly toppling over. “If you’re taking my badge from me for not going undercover, then do it!”

“I’m not taking your badge from you. But you will be working with Stromberg and Powell from here on out. When Powell tells me you’re not an asshole anymore, you can go back to being solo.”

He glared at the two men he thought were his friends, then back at his captain. “You’re giving me babysitters because one of them thinks I’m an asshole?”

“Yes. And you are being an asshole. I don’t like it. You never were one until…”

Yeah, until he knocked on heaven’s door and wished like hell he would’ve gotten an answer.

“Get out and go do your job. With those two!”

Captain Wilson went back to the paperwork splattered across his desk, effectively dismissing them. He pushed by Tate, not even caring he’d smacked Tate’s shoulder hard with his own. Though he should’ve because a shot of pain hit his chest. Right where the knife had gone in with the second sweep. One would think his shoulder would hurt more where he’d been stabbed first, but no, the wound in his chest gave him more fits than anything.

He swore he could feel the knife still embedded in his chest at times, like a phantom pain. Not that he’d lost a limb or needed a new heart. But the pain was always there, even more when he exerted more energy than he should.

Stromberg and Tate gathered by his desk, forcing him to look up at them.

“Piss off.”

Then he put his attention back to his latest case.

“Hey, man, we don’t like this any more than you, but—”

“But what, Stromberg?” Rider asked, glaring. “You didn’t give a damn a few months ago when the captain suspended you. You kept on working. And guess what? I kept my damn mouth shut. You can give me the same courtesy and let me do my own thing.”

“Except we’re not going to do that,” Tate replied. That annoying shit-eating grin was back. “While I hate it as much as you, I’m not going to ignore what the captain said. I’m sorry I didn’t lie like Stromberg. We wouldn’t be in this situation if I had.”

“Hey,” Stromberg pouted. “I didn’t lie.”

“You omitted the truth. Same thing.” Tate jerked a finger at him. “He has been an asshole and you know it. Even he knows it.”

Rider slumped into his chair, unable to argue because Tate was right. He couldn’t even say he tried not to be an asshole. He just didn’t care about anything anymore.

“We’re working together until I tell the captain you’re not an asshole. We’re not arguing about it anymore.” Tate’s harsh expression and clipped words said Rider shouldn’t even waste his breath disagreeing. While he wanted to, the zeal to do it wasn’t there.

“Yo, Tate. Got a dead body for you. Her name’s Molly. Here’s the address,” Roco said, handing him a piece of paper. Rider didn’t miss the way he snickered as he walked away. Though Tate must’ve because he didn’t call him out on it. Tate was never one to let anything like that slide.

“Let’s go,” Tate ordered, waving the piece of paper. “Work calls.”

* * *

She let the warmth of her brother’s arm envelope her, yet didn’t drop her head to his shoulder like she wanted to. If she did, she’d turn into a blubbering mess.

“I called the cops.”

That had her jerking out of his arms. “Why’d you do that?”

Jason swung a hand to her beloved dog, now lying mangled in the yard. Dead. “Umm…it’s not normal for a dog to be murdered, Junelle. That’s why.”

Well, she couldn’t argue with that logic. It’s just…she didn’t like the cops. Not for any nefarious reason or anything.

She didn’t want to see his face ever again. If the cops were called, there was always that small chance he’d be the one to show up.

It didn’t take long for an officer to arrive. Jason did most of the talking as she was too choked up to say much. She had no idea what the officer did after that, but he told them he’d be back and went to the front of her house. She could do nothing but stare at her beloved baby. Not even Jason could tear her away, and she knew he wanted to.

A throat cleared. She looked over at the officer, wondering how much time had passed since he had walked away. “The detectives are here. I’ll bring them back here.”

Detectives?

That seemed extreme. A little overkill, but what did she know about police procedure? Nothing, that’s what. But she wouldn’t argue about it. They were the professionals, not her. Though her brother looked a bit surprised himself.

She felt tears brimming and turned around. First, she had to compose herself, then she’d face whoever came into the yard.

“It’s going to be okay, Junelle. I promise.” But Jason’s promise fell short. Because if things were okay, her sweet fur baby would’ve never been harmed.

She was an adult, and she’d act like it. There would be no crying until she was alone and could do it without anyone seeing or hearing her fall to pieces. Even her brother.

She swiveled back around, finding a smile out of nowhere.

Jason rolled his eyes. “No one expects you to be happy. Stop trying to pretend you are.”

The smile disappeared. He was right, of course. And thank goodness he’d come home with her after they had lunch. She had wanted to give him his birthday present he forgot the other day and instead, they had come home to heartbreak.

“Mr. and Mrs. Swanson, these are the detectives that will be handling your case,” the officer said, leading the gentlemen behind him.

Seriously! Talk about being glad he wouldn’t be handling it.

Because what an idiot!

Jason was her brother! Mr. and Mrs. Swanson…so ridiculous to even think about. If she wasn’t so distraught, she would’ve busted out laughing at the notion.

He stepped to the side and her heart lodged in her throat.

Of all the times…

Of all the people who could’ve responded…

Rider.

He looked just as shocked.

“Holy shit, man,” Jason exclaimed. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

Rider offered a short grin, but it was so fleeting she wasn’t sure if it had been real. “Hey, Jason. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

“Yeah, dude, me too. I’ve been trying to call you the last few months. I can’t believe—” Jason stopped speaking and looked at her. “I’m sorry, Junelle. I’ll chat with him later.”

“I’m Detective Tate Powell, my partner Detective Stromberg, and you already seem to know Detective Rider.” Tate glanced at her sweet fur baby on the ground. “Where is the other body?”

“What do you mean?” Jason asked.

The officer cleared his throat. “The dog is the body. Her name is Molly.”

Junelle wanted to take a step back when the rage lit up Detective Powell’s face. But she didn’t because she knew that anger wasn’t directed at her. The officer was in deep shit and she couldn’t find an ounce of remorse for him. She had a feeling he deserved it.

“Can you explain to me, Officer Dorenson, why three detectives had to come for a dead dog?” Tate asked through gritted teeth.

“No, sir, I can’t. I thought you and Stromberg would show up. Not Rider.”

Detective Stromberg laughed, then coughed to cover it up. Then laughed again. “I keep telling you, Tate, to make nice with everyone. This is what happens when you don’t. They mess with you.”

She could discern from the short conversation that detectives didn’t handle deceased pets. And why would they? It did seem preposterous for them to be here. Obviously, some of the officers were having fun at their expense. Of course, she didn’t find it funny. At all. It was her beautiful baby at the center of it all.

But whatever. She’d let it go. She wouldn’t make a stink about it. Because she was using all her energy not to fall into a blubbering mess. Maybe she’d make a stink about it later when she had full control of her emotions.

But the bigger question that boggled her mind was why Rider showed up with them if they hadn’t expected him to? Did he recognize her address and responded because of that? Did that mean he’d kept tabs on her and knew where she had moved?

Why wouldn’t he look at her? In the eyes?

Five long years and she still hadn’t gotten over him. After what he had done to her, she should’ve been able to with ease. While she liked to pretend she had moved on, she knew he would always hold a piece of her heart.

But it was better he didn’t look directly at her. Because he would see the hatred she had for him. And she’d see his guilt. Not something she needed to add to her emotional plate.

“And I’m the one considered an asshole,” Rider muttered under his breath.

Odd thing to say.

“You are an asshole, so you’re taking the lead on this case.” Tate swept an arm to the dog and took a step back.

Rider didn’t grin or laugh or show any expression that he thought anything was funny.

Not even Detective Stromberg, who had laughed before, let loose the joyous sound. He looked frightened, in fact. As if a brawl would start any moment between his two colleagues.

Rider took a step closer, nodding. “I have no problem with that. Jason was my best friend.”

“Is. I am your best friend,” her brother interjected, growling low with frustration.

Rider made no comment to correct him, demanding that he wasn’t. He wouldn’t even look Jason in the eye. Coward!

“You’re not needed any longer, Officer. Get the hell out of here,” Detective Powell snapped.

“You almost sounded like a New Yorker there,” Detective Stromberg said.

That comment produced another tiny smile from Rider, fleeting once again. “That man will never be a true New Yorker. Never.”

“For that, I’ll prove you wrong.”

Rider rolled his eyes and directed his attention back to Jason. “What happened?”

Jason pointed to her. “Molly’s Junelle’s dog. We came home from lunch and found her like this.”

The man who had captured her heart only to break it with no remorse finally looked at her. No guilt detected. And she couldn’t find the energy to display her rage.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

His baby-blue eyes penetrated straight to her soul. Making her wish deep down in the pit of her stomach things had turned out differently between them. Although his words sounded sincere, she didn’t want his sympathy. She didn’t want anything from him.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t work this case.”

“Junelle!” Jason admonished.

Rider flinched, closing his eyes. When he reopened them, he’d gone back to not looking at her.

“You’re stuck with me like I’m stuck with these two until I’m told otherwise.” Rider flicked an aimless gesture at his colleagues. “So I’m going to ask you questions whether you like it or not.”

Her gaze glided to Molly and the tears threatened to flow once again.

“Why don’t we go inside and do that?” Jason motioned toward the sliding glass door. Then guided her inside when everyone agreed.

They took a seat at the small table she had in the kitchen. Rider sat across from her, which she was grateful for. Jason was to her left with Detective Stromberg to her right and the other one next to his other side.

“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt you or your dog?”

She shrugged.

“Any complainants against Molly?”

“No.”

“Did she excessively bark or get out of the house frequently?”

“No.”

Molly had been the sweetest, most lovable dog on the planet. Her backyard was tiny. Not surprising as she lived in the city. Of course it was fenced in. But she could’ve let Molly roam free and she wouldn’t have strayed from her property. She had trained her well. Something she had been so proud of when Molly had graduated obedience training school. They’d even given out certificates that she had hung on the wall. Proudly displayed in her living room.

“Did you leave her in the backyard when you left?”

“No.”

“Junelle,” Jason huffed. “Try elaborating a little bit more than that. He’s trying to help.”

They were literally yes or no questions. She didn’t have to elaborate if she didn’t want to.

“Molly…Molly looked…”

She glanced up at Rider when he stalled in finishing his statement. Odd. He looked on the verge of tears himself. He was rubbing his chest with vigorous motions back and forth. When he saw her noticing what he was doing, he stopped.

“She looks like she’s been stabbed repeatedly.” His weird moment of vulnerability was over. “We all realize this is a dog, but if that was a human, I’d call that a crime of passion. Someone was very angry when they killed Molly. Who could you have made that angry?”

Her brother was going to kill her. Maybe even Rider…if he still cared about her. Doubtful.

She stood up from the table and walked out of the room. She heard muffled whispers but didn’t try to listen to what they were saying. The papers she’d shoved in her desk drawer scorched her skin the moment she picked them up. She wanted to hide them back where she found them. Instead, she walked back into the kitchen and laid them on the table.

“I don’t know who the person is, but I assume it’s the same person who wrote these letters that hurt Molly.”

***

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