For You

Chapter Nine Cheryl

The door bell jolted Colt awake. He looked to the clock, saw it was five to seven and slid out from under the dead weight of Feb that was pressed to his side.

Yanking on his jeans, t-shirt and grabbing his gun, he hit the hall then the living room and looked out the peephole to see Chip Judd standing on his front step.

He’d unlocked the door when Jack hit the room, his hair a mess, his jeans on, his chest bare and his hand curled around the butt of his revolver.

“It’s Chip, Jack. It’s cool, I called him.”

“Chip?” Jack asked.

“Go back to bed, it’s all good.”

Jack studied him with sleepy intensity for several seconds before he spoke.

“Don’t know what’s good, you callin’ the only boy in town who installs security systems and him bein’ here first thing in the mornin’,” Jack stated the obvious on a grumble then headed back down the hall, muttering, “fuck.”

Colt turned back to the door and opened it, nodding to Chip and stepping aside for him to enter but his eyes scanned the neighborhood. Chip’s van was parked on the street, no Audi in sight, no other movement. Street was waking up, half an hour it’d be alive, people heading to work. An hour after that, it would be napping again.

He closed the door, locked it and turned to Chip. Chip had his eyes on the lock Colt turned and then they came to Colt.

“You’re standin’ there holdin’ a gun, big man, and you still turn the lock?”

“Man out there’s hacking up people with a hatchet, he threatened me direct and Feb could turn his eye to her. Not leavin’ the door open to that possibility, Chip.”

Chip’s face had drained to the color of his hair, which was nearly as white as an albino, before he muttered, “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Damn straight, now what can you do for me?” Colt asked.

Chip recovered his composure, dipped his head to the door and said, “First thing, get you a decent deadbolt. My experience? Two kinds of cops. Those with families who got so many damned locks their house is like Fort Knox and their wives got scoliosis from carryin’ around their keyring. Those without who don’t spend enough time home to give a crap. You’re obviously Cop Type Two. Gotta tell you Colt, that lock’s a piece of shit.”

Colt couldn’t argue. His lock wasn’t near as bad as Feb’s but it was still a piece of shit.

“Put it in and a chain, all the doors. There’s one at the side, one at the back. I’ll need five sets of keys,” Colt told him, Chip nodded and Colt went on. “What else?”

“We talkin’ the basic model, the basic deluxe or the full-on deluxe?” Chip asked.

Security systems cost some cake, Colt knew, and this would be a hit. It was only six months ago he finished the last payment on Melanie’s kitchen. Other than that he studiously kept out of debt and saved as much as he could so when he quit the department his life could be a fair bit sweeter than a cop’s pension would buy him. He took a financial hit when Melanie left, she had a job and two incomes made their lives a fuckuva lot easier. Further, he let her clean out the house when she left. She let him keep both the house and the boat they bought together. Fair trade, to Colt’s way of thinking, she got a job across the city and wasn’t staying in town so she didn’t need the house and he cared about that boat a whole lot more than any couch. Except, he had to dip into savings to furnish his house when she was gone.

Now he intended, soon as he could, to buy a bike. Jack had taught both Morrie and him how to ride years ago and both of them always liked doing it, so much, every once in awhile Colt would rent a Harley and they’d spend the weekend riding.

But now he knew February felt free on the back of a bike and Colt wanted to give her that feeling as often as he could.

A security system would cut into that intention.

Then again, when this shit was over, he also intended to have a talk with Feb. A lot of the way she lived her life was going to change. Her living in a studio void of personality was one of them. Her spending a lot of time in his kitchen cooking him breakfast was another.

“Deluxe,” he told Chip and he knew by Chip’s response that Chip read his face while he was thinking.

“Good call, Colt,” Chip said. “I’ll give equipment to you wholesale and discount the labor.”

Colt shook his head and said, “No need.”

Chip gave him a look then he laughed, loud and long and Colt could do nothing but watch because he thought his friend might have a screw loose.

“What?” he asked when Chip stopped laughing.

“Colt, my man, you called me at two in the mornin’. You think you didn’t wake Josie with that shit?”

Oh fuck.

Chip’s wife, Josie Judd, had been a friend of Feb, Jessie and Mimi’s back in the day. She still was. Josie Judd was everyone’s friend, sliding in and out of cliques like she was greased with shortening. Josie was a pleaser but it wasn’t that. The woman was pathologically social.

Chip kept talking. “She heard me say Feb’s name and pestered me the minute I hung up the phone. She and her sister have been peckin’ over you and Feb for donkey’s years. Swear to God, they been drinkin’ so much coffee and dreamin’ up so many scenarios the last week, you’d think their brains would frazzle. They reckon this is a romance novel come alive. This bein’ about you and Feb, I don’t give you deluxe and discount it, she finds out I charged you regular, she’d have my balls.”

Josie might be social and a people pleaser but she was also a ball buster, known throughout the town for all of the above. Colt reckoned the men in that town had a case to make Chip a saint the way he put up with Josie’s energy, the endless round of parties she gave and dragged him to, all the times she said “yes” when Chip would end up doing all the work and the whip she used liberally on him.

Then again, the woman wasn’t hard to look at, got her figure back within months after each of their three kids and Chip let it slip regularly that she gave world class head, liked doing it and did it often. He could have been full of shit, telling his tale so as not to appear weak but Colt didn’t see it that way. Chip smiled a lot and was one of the most mellow, adjusted people Colt had ever met. Getting great head from a woman who looked like Josie who was talented with her mouth could do that for a man. Colt figured, his own life wasn’t totally fucked, he’d be about as mellow and adjusted as Chip right now and he was looking forward to that time.

But now he didn’t have time to argue about what he’d pay and he wanted the system in without delay.

“All right, Chip, you do it discount, I’ll get Feb to make you a frittata,” Colt told him.

Chip whistled through his teeth. “Heard about her frittatas, big man.” His brows went up. “You tellin’ me you already earned one?”

Colt didn’t respond and didn’t have to, Chip grinned.

“Legend,” Chip muttered before he said, “Got the keys to the bar? I’ll swing by there, give it a look. It’s been around awhile, Dad put it in and I wasn’t on that job, probably could use some updating. Then I’ll round up the boys and come back here.”

Colt went to his keyring, slid off the keys, gave them to Chip and told him the alarm code.

He opened the door and Chip hesitated in it. “Know I don’t have to tell you this but keep her safe. Would suck, you two finally bein’ back together only for one of you to end up hacked up with a hatchet.”

“Yeah,” was the only response Colt could come up with for that understatement.

Chip looked over his shoulder, his gaze hitting Feb’s purse on the coffee table, before he again caught Colt’s eye and he said low, “Pleased for you, Colt.”

Then he took off.

Colt locked up after him and headed back to his room. It was likely the Feds found and raided Denny’s spying on Feb lair and he wanted to get to the Station to see what came of it.

He hit the room and saw Feb still asleep. He fell asleep before her so he didn’t know when she finally dozed off. Still, he went to the bed, sat on the edge and pulled her hair off her neck before he put his hand to her hip, gave her a squeeze and bent to kiss her exposed neck. Then he touched his tongue to the chains tangled there.

She moved, he lifted his head and saw her open her eyes.

“You can go back to sleep, baby, just wanted you to know I’m gonna get a shower and head into the Station. Your Dad’s here.”

“Dad asleep?”

Colt reckoned he was and nodded.

“Mm,” she murmured and lifted up to a hand.

“Feb, honey, go back to sleep.”

“In a minute,” she whispered, her hands coming to him, one arm wrapping around his back, the other hand sliding down his crotch over his jeans.

Her intention clear, it killed him when he had to say, “Baby, gotta get to the Station.”

Her face disappeared into his neck, her lips sliding up it and at his ear, her hand cupping his crotch, she said, “Lay back, Alec.”

“Baby.”

He felt her tongue touch his earlobe then he felt his cock start to grow hard and then he heard her whisper in his ear, “I want you in my mouth, Colt.”

Colt figured he had a lot of work to do to erase the loneliness Feb had felt the last two decades of her life.

He might as well start now.

Colt was feeling unsurprisingly mellow and adjusted when he hit the bullpen at the Station.

However considering the state of things, unfortunately for him this feeling wouldn’t last long.

He saw Jo from dispatch heading toward the front stairs.

“Colt,” she called when she’d stopped and turned to him, “just put a message on your desk. They got a boy in interrogation room two. The Feds just started workin’ him. Sully’s watchin’ and wants you with him, minute you get in.”

“What boy?” Colt asked.

“Denny Lowe’s eyes on the prize boy,” Jo answered.

Colt nodded, uncertain if he felt elation or dread and headed straight to the soundproof room next to interrogation two. He entered and saw Sully, Chris and Rodman watching through the one-way mirror as the profiler Nowakowski and Warren worked a young, skinny, mop-haired, pimple-faced, terrified-looking kid.

They all glanced at Colt when he entered but only Sully kept his eyes on him.

“Got him, Colt. Denny’s officially fucked,” Sully told him.

“Write down the email address you send the files to, Ryan, right here,” Nowakowski’s voice came through the speaker.

Colt closed the door and walked in, watching Nowakowski sliding a pad toward the boy, putting a pen on top.

Colt stopped beside Sully and saw Nowakowski was seated not across from the kid, beside him. The kid was at the middle of the table, Nowakowski at the side. Friendly, approachable, non-threatening. Warren was standing, shoulders against the wall by the door, head up, eyes looking down his nose at the boy, arms crossed on his chest. Unfriendly, official, a threat.

“I swear I didn’t know,” the kid said, his voice hitching, about to unman himself and trying like hell to stop it. “He said he was a cop. Had a badge and everything.”

“We understand,” Nowakowski told him though Colt knew he didn’t. He thought the kid was a dumb fuck which he probably was. Though for the life of him, Colt couldn’t read that in anything Nowakowski was sending the kid. The guy was good.

“He said I was deputized, an official part of the operation,” the kid said, his eyes on Nowakowski, disbelief at being duped on his face. “Said we needed to keep an eye on her all the time so we could keep her safe. She was under threat.”

Yep, a dumb fuck, Colt thought as he watched Nowakowski nod with understanding and the kid picked up the pen and bent over the pad.

“Um, bad news, man,” Sully mumbled to him, leaning close, “Lowe had eyes in Feb’s apartment. We didn’t find ‘em. Feds did about an hour ago after we saw what all the monitors were picking up. Those were put in professional by Ryan here. Whiz kid, works at an electronic shop, does this shit as a hobby but also part side-business. Nanny cams. Shit like that. He’s good, idiot savant. Chris did the sweep and he didn’t pick them up. Feds said they’d have trouble findin’ ‘em if they didn’t have the angles and a shitload more equipment and experience than a small town PD.”

Rodman’s eyes came to him and Colt kept his reaction to the news that Lowe and his lackey watched Feb in her apartment under control. It cost him but he didn’t even bite his lip.

“He got cameras in my house I didn’t find?” Colt asked.

“Nope. Just on the street.”

“Where else?”

“Meems’s. Boys are there now, yankin’ ‘em out.”

Mimi was going to flip. Al was going to flip a fair bit harder.

“Someone sent to contain Al?”

“Did that myself before comin’ in,” Sully hesitated, his meaning clear before he said, “he’s okay.”

Which meant he wasn’t at first until Sully talked him into being that way. Sully could work for the United Nations he was that good of a diplomat which was the reason why Colt didn’t do bodily harm to Craig Lansdon the day before.

“How’s he gettin’ around the security systems?” Colt asked.

Sully jerked his head toward the mirror. “Ryan here, dab hand at a lotta things, the little fuck. Unfortunately, he taught Lowe along the way.”

“Why the fuck did he do that?” Colt asked.

“Lowe told him he was you. Had a badge and looked official. Lowe told him he’d be helpin’ out the law if Ryan gave him some tutorin’.”

“He half-idiot or something?”

“My experience, the smarter they are at one thing, the dumber they are with everything else. Ryan’s the example that proves the rule.”

“Will I get into trouble for this?” Ryan asked, calling their attention back to him and shoving the pad away, the email written on it, his eyes on the pad like it would come alive, jump up and take a bite out of him.

“Cooperate, Ryan, and we’ll see what we can do,” Nowakowski said and Colt’s eyes shifted to the video equipment recording the interview, assessing if it was turned on and recording. Likely it was if the Feds, Sully or Chris set it up. Likely it wasn’t if Marty had been there and done it. Colt figured Sully wouldn’t let Marty anywhere near the equipment. They had learned that lesson the hard way.

“So,” Nowakowski said, “just wanna go over what you said, make sure I got this right. Mr. Lowe hired you to disarm the alarms, assist in setting up the cameras and the feed. And he paid you to monitor them and email him recorded files.”

“Yeah,” Ryan replied. “He told me what he wanted and I set up face recognition software to get some of it. Most of the other stuff, I had to scan fast forward to get it.”

“What’d he want?”

Ryan shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Nowakowski read his discomfort and broke it down for him. “Let’s start with the face recognition. Who was he watching?”

“The bar. The blonde and that guy when they were there together. The big guy. The other cop. He came in all the time. Sometimes to the coffee shop. Lieutenant Colt… I mean your guy, Mr. Lowe, said he was dirty.”

Colt bit his lip then, he didn’t give a fuck if Rodman saw it. Not only was Lowe impersonating him, he was also telling folks he was a dirty cop. That happened to him, fucking Rodman would bite his lip too. At least.

“Tall, dark hair, athletic build?” Nowakowski asked and Warren’s head turned toward the mirror. He knew Colt was watching.

“Yeah, him.” Ryan nodded. “I didn’t get it. What your guy wanted. They knew each other, the blonde and the big guy. You could see they knew each other. And he watched her ass but fuck, anyone’d watch her ass. I watched her ass. She has a nice ass. Other than that, nothin’. Until recently.”

“Recently?” Nowakowski asked.

“They’d disappear together in the office. We didn’t put cameras there. Then they seemed unfriendly. Then real friendly. You know what I mean?” Ryan answered.

“You were watching February Owens and Lieutenant Alexander Colton, the real one, Ryan. He is a cop but he isn’t dirty,” Warren put in. “You were surveilling a clean cop and his girlfriend.”

Ryan wasn’t such a dumb fuck as to be sitting in a room with two cops and find out he’d been watching another one and not know he was fucked. His face got even paler, the pimples coming out in bold relief and his hands clenched and unclenched on the table in front of him.

“I didn’t know,” Ryan said. “They barely used to speak.”

“They’ve been havin’ some problems,” Warren shared. “They worked ‘em out.”

Ryan swung his head between Warren and Nowakowski. “He won’t know, ‘bout this, ‘bout me? Will he? Witness safety and all that?”

Warren took an arm from his chest, pointed at the mirror and said, “He’s watchin’ you right now, Ryan.”

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck,” Ryan was squirming in his chair, not certain if he was allowed to get up but definitely certain he wanted to flee.

“Calm down, Ryan. We said he was a good cop. You cooperate, you got no problems with the real Lieutenant Colton,” Nowakowski told both Ryan and Colt the way things would be. “Now, this has been goin’ on for how long?”

“Six months, a bit more I think. Awhile,” Ryan answered.

“Did Mr. Lowe ever come to watch the monitors?”

Ryan shook his head. “No, not ever. Just got the files.”

“What else did you send him?” Warren asked and Ryan looked at Warren, then at the mirror.

Then he turned to Nowakowski. “Will you ask him to leave? To stop watchin’ me?”

“Think he’s got a right to watch you a little while, Ryan, seein’ as you been watchin’ him and Ms. Owens. Don’t you?” Warren asked. “Turnabout bein’ fair play and all that shit.”

Colt decided he was beginning to like Warren.

Ryan shook his head. “He won’t… he won’t –”

“What’d you send?” Nowakowski asked.

“But, he’s watchin’,” Ryan said.

“Ryan, tell us what you sent,” Nowakowski pushed.

“He… you don’t understand. He said he was a cop.”

“Ryan, be smart now, all right? What did you send?” Nowakowski kept at him.

“I know it was weird!” Ryan flared, pushing his chair back several inches, enough to make Nowakowski sit back and go on alert and Warren to push from the wall. “But he said he was a cop! What do I know about cops?”

Warren took two steps forward and slapped a hand on the table, making Ryan jump before he barked, “What’d you send?”

“Her dressing!” Ryan shouted then shot to his feet, putting his hands to the sides of his head. “Dressing, undressing. That’s all he wanted.” Ryan’s eyes went to the mirror for less than a second then they went to Nowakowski and he dropped his hands only to flick them out to the sides, twitchy. “Yeah, all right, I thought it was freaky! I’m not that stupid. If he didn’t have the feeds from the coffee shop and the bar and want the footage of the big guy, I woulda known it was weird. But he wanted that too. I knew he was askin’ for the extra because he was gettin’ his rocks off but cops, they do that shit! Everyone knows that! And half the time he asked why there wasn’t more and I lied and told him she changed in her bathroom. He wanted a camera in there but I didn’t wanna see that shit and no reason for him to see it either, even if he was a cop. The big guy couldn’t fit through a vent and whack her in the bathroom, for fuck’s sake! So I put one in there but disconnected the feed and told him it malfunctioned. But sometimes he’d get very, fuckin’ perturbed when I lacked footage and he was a little bit freaky, dude. Seriously. So I’d send him some shit. Okay?” Ryan sat back down, elbows to the table, head back in his hands and he repeated. “I’d send him some shit. Fuck.”

“You get your rocks off, Ryan, like us cops, when you watched February Owens dress and undress?” Warren asked.

“No,” Ryan mumbled to his lap.

Warren slapped his palm on the table and shouted, “Don’t lie to me! You get your rocks off?”

Ryan bolted upright in his chair and yelled, “No!” Then his fists came down on the table. “Okay, at first, yeah, though I didn’t jack off or anything. But then, even without sound, you could tell she was nice! You could see by the way she treated her cat and worked the bar. She smiled and it was real. People gravitate toward her. She’s hot, sure, but after awhile it was like spyin’ on my big sister and it gave me the creeps.” Ryan’s gaze went back to the mirror and he said, “She’s nice and you seem cool too. You made her laugh, she doesn’t do that much. Glad you worked things out.”

Five seconds before, Colt was using everything he had not to walk into that room and tear the little fuck’s throat out. Just then, he started chuckling.

“Welp, you can sit easy, Colt, Ryan here’s glad you worked things out with Feb,” Chris muttered, laughter in his tone.

Before Colt could say anything, Nowakowski asked Ryan, “You see Mr. Lowe enter Ms. Owens’s apartment?”

Ryan nodded. “Yeah, sure, he’d go in there. Said he was checkin’ on things. Told me to shut down the cameras when he was in there.”

Of course he would, Colt thought. Denny didn’t mind Ryan watching Feb dress but he didn’t want the little fuck to watch him jack off on her bed.

“You shut them down like he asked?” Nowakowski questioned.

“Yeah,” Ryan answered.

Nowakowski tapped the pad with his finger. “Those files, Ryan, video files, those are big. Lieutenant Colton, he spend a long time in that bar?”

“Sometimes, sure,” Ryan said, calming down at the change of topic but still on the alert.

“That’s a lotta footage,” Nowakowski remarked. “Those files would be large. You zip them or something?”

That’s when Colt knew Nowakowski wasn’t just good, he was sheer talent. There was something deeper; Nowakowski saw it and Colt didn’t. Colt knew this because Ryan, already agitated, now was panicked clear as day.

“Sure,” Ryan said, now for some reason lying through his teeth, trying to appear calm and failing. “Zipped ‘em.”

“Didn’t burn DVDs? Hand ‘em off to Mr. Lowe?” Nowakowski asked.

Ryan shook his head. “Saw Mr. Whoever during the deal, coupla times after then when we put in the cameras. Just email from then.”

“So who’d you give the DVDs to?” Nowakowski asked and Ryan looked to the floor, the table, his hands, eye contact evaporated. “Ryan?” Nowakowski called.

“No DVDs, just emailed files.”

“Take a lotta time to send those big files, even zipped. Most computers would time out.”

“Got a high speed connection,” Ryan said to his hands.

“Sure, you do. What about him? He confirm receipt of these big files?” Nowakowski asked.

Ryan shook his head. “No.”

“So he wants this footage and he’s cool with it bein’ timed out? Seems weird, seein’ as he’d get perturbed, you not sendin’ enough of Ms. Owens,” Nowakowski remarked.

“Maybe he has high speed too. He didn’t complain about file crash.”

Nowakowski turned the conversation. “You hear from him the last week or so?”

“Coupla times, yeah, after the big guy and the girl started to, you know, work things out, I guess. He was real interested in that and the street footage. Emailed, wanted me to make certain I rescanned the tapes, make sure I didn’t miss anything. Her and him entering, leaving his house, when she’d chat with him at the bar, shit like that.”

“So he’s been in contact how many times in the last week?” Nowakowski pressed.

“Don’t know, four, five, didn’t hear from him a lot but started to hear from him more when the footage changed.”

“You keep those emails?”

Ryan’s head came up and a bit of belligerent swept into his face. “Yeah, they’re on my machine that you seized.”

Nowakowski, completely unperturbed, nodded. “Good. Now, who’d you hand the DVDs to?”

Belligerence gone, Ryan instantly was back to eye avoidance. “No DVDs.”

“Who’re you protectin’, Ryan?” Warren, back at the wall, entered the interrogation.

“There aren’t any DVDs,” Ryan lied.

“All right,” Nowakowski sat back, rested his elbows in his stomach and steepled his fingers, “Ryan, I want you to look at me.” Nowakowski waited patiently as Ryan plucked up the courage to lift his gaze and this took awhile. He delivered the blow when he had Ryan’s full attention. “Mr. Dennis Lowe is wanted for the murders of four people. He hacked them up with a hatchet, the first victim, his wife, was almost unidentifiable, left a finger intact, the wedding ring he put on it telling us who she was. The other three he started at the groin and hacked up to the heart, near to splitting them in two. You gotta know about one of them since you had to see February Owens call the discovery of the body into the police and you watched Lieutenant Colton question her in the bar. Now, you can sit there, Ryan, and protect whoever you’re protecting and become an accessory to multiple murders or you can tell us who you handed those DVDs.”

Ryan’s mouth was hanging open, jaw completely slack, so much Colt was surprised drool didn’t slide from his lip.

Then he snapped it shut and rolled over immediately. “Candy Sheckle.”

Nowakowski’s eyes went to Warren but Warren was already leaving the room.

Then Nowakowski looked back at Ryan. “You know Candy?” Ryan nodded. “Tell me, Ryan.”

“She’s a girl.”

“Guessin’, with the name of Candy, she would be.”

“She’s a kind of… friend.”

“Girlfriend?”

Ryan shook his head, heat hitting his face, making the pimples now nearly red. He wanted her to be, whoever Candy fucking Sheckle was, but he couldn’t have her.

“No, just a friend.”

“What kind of friend?”

“I help her out.”

Nowakowski took his elbows from his stomach, unsteepled his fingers and sat forward.

“Ryan, I got all the time in the world. The problem is, Mr. Lowe has shared with us he’s intending to kill two more people and their time is runnin’ out. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop making this so hard so we can get on with our job and, maybe, save a couple of lives.”

Ryan stared for a second then nodded. “She’s a stripper. At Girls X.” He put up his hand and offered information Nowakowski didn’t ask for but Ryan felt necessary to give. “She’s not like that. A lotta strippers, well, I don’t know anyone other than Candy, and her real name isn’t Candy, it’s Cheryl, but anyway… people think strippers are skanks but she’s not. She’s real nice. She’s got a kid and she wants him to grow up in a good neighborhood so she works real hard. She’s um… she brought this Lowe guy to me. See, I used to help her out, go to the club, give her good tips and maybe a little on the side. But then she got hooked up with Lowe and, seein’ as she’s sweet, she told me to keep my money, she’s got a boyfriend who takes care of her now and he’s a good guy, a cop. So, you know, I was gonna talk to her when you let me go, but um… I’m thinkin’ you should probably do it now.”

“We should,” Nowakowski affirmed, straight-faced and how he didn’t laugh or even crack a smile Colt would never know. “So you gave her the DVDs?”

Ryan nodded then sat forward, eye contact back, earnest now. “Candy, she’s gonna freak. She likes him, thinks he’s a good guy, thinks we’re doin’ right. And really, stripper or not, she’s nice. Seriously. Maybe you could be… um, gentle with her. Okay?”

“We’ll take care of Candy, Ryan.”

Colt looked at Sully and they both walked from the room.

“Bet you a thousand dollars Candy Sheckle’s the spittin’ image of Feb,” Sully said as they headed down the hall to the bullpen.

“I’m puttin’ a security system in today, Sul, not gonna take a foolish bet,” Colt replied and caught Warren’s eye as they got to the bullpen. “Name’s Cheryl, not Candy,” he told Warren who was on the phone.

“That would be Cheryl Sheckle,” Warren said into the phone.

“Cheryl Sheckle, shit, her parents musta hated her,” Sully muttered.

Colt stopped by his desk and leaned a hip against it. Sully stopped with him.

“Okay, Sully, breakin’ this shit down, where the fuck are we now?” Colt asked. “Months before the murders, he’s got a whole operation set up to spy on Feb and me. He’s impersonating me, insinuated himself into two lives, both of which cost him big money. When did the withdrawals start?”

“Last coupla months.”

“But he’s been workin’ this shit for six.”

“I’ll go back over the statements. See if other withdrawals increased.”

“My advice?” Colt offered. “Get Marie’s too. I reckon she had her own account, money from her parents. And talk to her neighbor again. See if Marie told her she was giving him money.”

“Christ, you think he took his wife’s money to keep his girl on the side and set up a Feb Watch?” Sully asked.

“I think he’d do anything,” Colt answered. “He’s a man without a moral compass, Sully. Drug me, okay, I’m a big guy, I can take it and get mine back if I have that inclination. Feb? She’s got me, Morrie, Jack, Jackie, an army of support. Amy? Puck? Total innocents. Defenseless. He mowed through them and when he brought low Amy, Craig said the fucker laughed.”

Sully got close and his voice got quiet. “Speakin’ of that, I had a talk with Nowakowski before he went in. Explained a few things. He’s considerin’ helpin’, if you ask, see if he can find a way to bypass some channels, you find out that adoption Amy fixed was closed.”

Colt didn’t want to talk about this, not now, and he didn’t want Sully talking about it to anyone either.

“Sully –”

Sully lifted up his hand. “That’s another night, another bottle of Jack, I know. Just sayin’.”

Colt felt his blood start heating. “You think I should approach a twenty-one year old kid and let him know he’s the product of… whatever the fuck?”

“I think you’re my partner and a damn good friend and if you decide you want to find your boy, I’ll do whatever I can to help. That’s what I think, nothin’ more, nothin’ less.”

“What I think is that enough of this shit is spreadin’ around,” Colt said. “Amy’s dead and everyone knows her as a quiet, good woman. She doesn’t need that coloring anybody’s memory of her.”

Sully shook his head. “That won’t happen. Craig’s promised to keep it quiet and you know anyone else who knows will. Including Nowakowski.”

“All right, Sully, all I’m askin’ is, you just keep it that way.”

“To the grave,” Sully promised, lifting his hand like he was taking an oath.

“Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass,” Colt told him and meant it. Sully could definitely be a pain in the ass.

“A pain in the ass that helped score multiple counts of unlawful entry on the sick fuck who’s makin’ your and Feb’s life a livin’ hell, not to mention whatever else we can pin on him through that shit,” Sully grinned. “I’m thinkin’ a nice shot of single malt from you, or two, and an invitation to sit in on Feb’s next frittata.”

“Feb’ll make you a frittata every day for a year, you find this guy.”

Sully kept grinning. “Once is enough, every day’s too much of a good thing.”

He was wrong, he hadn’t had her frittata.

Then again, if Colt had it every morning then when would he have her stuffed French toast?

Colt was walking back to the Station from a very ticked off Mimi’s with his muffin in a white bag and his Americano when his phone rang. He shifted the bag into the same hand as the coffee, yanked out his phone and saw the display said “Feb Calling”.

He flipped it open one-handed and put it to his ear.

“Yeah baby.”

“You owe me.”

Her voice came at him, husky and still full of sleep. She’d called him first thing after waking up, her mind on what she did to him with her mouth. That knowledge and the sound of her voice hit him direct in the gut and scored straight down to his dick.

She was right, he did. He owed her big.

That was why he smiled into the phone, stopped at the foot of the steps to the Station, dropped his bag and set his coffee on the stone balustrade.

“You just wake up?” Colt asked.

“Yeah, after you hit the shower, I slept clean through until Chip started banging away.” She didn’t sound pissed. She sounded slightly surprised though he’d only hit the shower three hours ago.

“Sorry about that, honey. New locks. New alarm.”

“That’s okay,” she said softly.

He took a sip of his coffee, waiting for her to say more, she didn’t so he asked, “There a reason you’re callin’?”

“Yeah, I’m running out of clothes. Is it okay if Dad or Morrie take me to my place to pick up more?”

Yes, it’s fucking okay, he thought.

“Sure,” he said then warned, “but honey, it was swept. It’s probably gonna be a little less than your usual clean.”

“Great,” she muttered.

“Then again,” Colt teased, wanting to take her mind off it, “most operating rooms are less than your usual clean.”

“I like order,” she replied, “especially when my life is chaos.”

“Bullshit, Feb,” Colt kept teasing. “You’re Jackie Owens’s daughter. You like order all the fucking time.”

“Something wrong with that?” she asked, now getting pissed. She always hated being teased which meant he used to do it a lot because she was cute when she was pissed, that was only when it was under his control.

“Nope, nothin’ wrong with that,” Colt answered.

She hesitated then called, “Colt?” like he wasn’t on the phone with her but she was trying to catch his attention.

“I’m right here.”

“Um… would you mind if I…” another pause then quickly, “clear a drawer and maybe… commandeer a few hangers?”

Fucking hell, she wanted to move her shit in and Colt felt that in his gut too.

“You know, so I don’t have to live out of a bag?” she finished on a rush.

“Take as much room as you need,” Colt paused too and then said, “and bring over as much shit as you want.”

Feb was silent a moment before she said softly, “Okay, babe.” Then she asked, “What’s your day gonna bring?”

“So far, it’s brought more dirt on Denny, I’ll tell you about it tonight.”

“They closer?” she asked.

“Closin’ in.”

“Thank God,” she whispered then, her voice stronger, “since I had an unscheduled day off yesterday, I need to be at the bar tonight. You wanna meet me there for dinner? Frank’s. On me.”

“You’re on. Six o’clock.”

“You want me to tell Darryl you want a tenderloin so you’ll maybe get a burger?”

He smiled into the phone before he said, “Why don’t we try a patty melt, see what that brings?”

He heard her laughter coming at him through the phone.

You made her laugh, she doesn’t do that much.

He heard Ryan’s words through Feb’s laughter. Ryan was right, it was true, Feb didn’t laugh much. Not for years and only genuinely with Palmer and Tuesday. She’d been doing it a lot more recently, mostly with him.

“Patty Melt Mystery Dinner it is,” she cut into his thoughts after she stopped laughing. “Six o’clock. Shit!” she said suddenly, he heard the phone jostle and her far away shout. “Yeah, I’m up! Be out in a sec.” Then she came back to him. “That’s Dad, he says he wants to be briefed as to why Chip’s here.” She laughed softly again before saying, “Colt, babe, he actually used the word briefed.” Colt laughed with her the second time before she finished hurriedly and distractedly. “Better go brief Dad. See you later, love you, babe.”

Colt froze and just managed to force out a “Later, baby,” before Feb disconnected.

See you later, love you, babe.

That was how she would end every phone conversation they had which were daily when she wasn’t up visiting on a weekend when she was at home and he was at Purdue.

See you later, love you, babe.

He knew she’d been preoccupied when she said it, slipping back into a very old habit.

He also didn’t fucking care.

He flipped his phone shut, shoved it in his back jeans pocket, grabbed his muffin and entered the Station smiling.

The phone on his desk rang; Colt picked it up, put it to his ear, looked at the name on the display on the desk set and said into the handset, “What’s up, Kath?”

“Colt, Amy Harris’s folks just walked in. I put them in the conference room.”

Fuck.

He knew they’d arrived yesterday from Arizona to start making arrangements for the funeral. Yesterday, with Colt mostly out of commission, Sully had dealt with them, making an appointment for them to come and talk with Colt today at two o’clock.

Now it was today and it was fucking two o’clock.

“Do me a favor, ask them if they want coffee, get it for them if they do and I’ll be down in a minute.”

“No probs, Colt,” she said and he put the phone down.

Kath was a civilian and she worked the front desk. She had a dickhead of a husband and five kids, all of them heathens. She did her best but, the Dad they had, her kids acted out anyway, as often as they could and they were creative. When they advertised the job for the front desk, she applied for it, telling them it was a way to spend some time with her family since all of them, including her husband, sat in a cell on more than a rare occasion. They gave her the job, mostly because she was a good woman, dependable, smart and, not including her husband, her family was a good family, deep down. They just had a lot of shit to get out and, until Kath grew a backbone and kicked her husband out on his ass, she needed all the help she could get.

Colt stood, pulled his blazer from his chair and shrugged it on. He was about to turn to the stairs when Sully walked up.

“Candy Sheckle’s on her way in,” Sully told him.

Colt’s brows went up. “Of her own accord?”

“She had a shift at the club last night, just turned her phone on and, minute the Feds asked, she said she’d drop her kid off at her Mom’s and be right in.”

“That’s helpful,” Colt remarked, surprised.

“Super duper helpful,” Sully returned, equally surprised.

“That’ll be an interesting interview.”

Sully smiled. “Can’t fuckin’ wait. You gonna watch?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“See you there, I’ll bring the popcorn.”

Colt shook his head and went to the stairs.

The minute he saw Mr. and Mrs. Harris, seated but huddling together in the conference room, he knew why Craig had to carry Amy into the house, not to mention why Amy was petite. Her parents were both small. He didn’t recall either of them but, if they were as quiet and reserved as their daughter, he doubted he ever saw them but in passing and probably wouldn’t notice them.

“They didn’t want coffee, Colt. The Mom drinks tea. You want me to run down to Mimi’s?” Kath asked as he passed.

“You’d do that, it’d be appreciated,” Colt replied, not taking his eyes from the Harrises.

“No trouble,” Kath said and took off.

Mr. Harris caught his gaze while Colt made his way to the conference room. This would be difficult for more than the normal reasons. He had no intention of sharing. They didn’t need to know their daughter went through what she went through. Still, he knew it and knowing it meant this was going to be far from easy.

He opened the door, Mrs. Harris twisted and looked up at him and Colt nodded to the both of them.

“Thank you for coming, Mrs. Harris. Mr. Harris.”

Mr. Harris stood, reaching out and taking a big, yellow envelope from the table.

Without leading into it, he asked, “Can we talk privately, son?”

Colt looked at the envelope then to Mr. Harris who looked like hell then to Mrs. Harris who surprised him. She was gazing at him steady, straight in the eye. She looked sad but she also looked thoughtful and there was a softness to her eyes that Colt thought looked immensely kind.

Colt knew then that this was going to be more than an interview with grieving parents to ascertain if their daughter did, indeed, commit suicide so that he could file away her case, nice, neat and cozy.

This was going to be something he was going to like a lot less even than he expected. And he expected to fucking hate every second.

“This room is private, Mr. Harris. No one can –” Colt started.

“No eyes,” Mrs. Harris cut in, her own eyes going to the windows.

Fuck.

“Of course,” Colt said, turning to open the door and gesturing through it with his arm.

He led them up to interrogation room one, giving Sully a look and lifting his hand with his index finger extended to indicate he was taking interrogation one. Sully followed them with his eyes until he lost sight. Colt saw part of it and knew the other.

He opened the door to interrogation one and held it for the Harrises to walk through. He followed them and closed it behind him. Mr. Harris walked to the table. Mrs. Harris stood by the door.

Before he could speak, Mr. Harris put the envelope on the table and said, “We’ll give you a moment of privacy to read this, Alexander.”

Alexander.

Mr. Harris wasn’t talking to Lieutenant Colton. He was establishing the fact that he was Colt’s elder, he was doing it gently but he was the authority figure in this scenario. But it wasn’t authority he was communicating even though it wasn’t Colt’s daughter who hung herself. Mr. Harris was making a point of conveying he was there to provide support.

No, Colt wasn’t going to fucking like this.

Colt was looking at Mr. Harris therefore it came as a surprise when he felt Mrs. Harris’s fingers curl around his forearm. Colt’s eyes went to her, she gave him a small, sad smile, squeezed his arm and then Mr. Harris touched her shoulder, gave Colt a nod, Colt moved away from the door and they left.

Colt walked to the envelope, feeling a bit of Ryan’s pain. Whatever was inside could easily grow teeth and bite him.

There was nothing written on the front, the back was clasped but not sealed. Amy was long past keeping any secrets. Colt opened the clasp and slid the papers out from inside, bent his head and read Amy Harris’s suicide note:

Colt,

This is too late, I know, way too late. But I want you to know I’m sorry. I should have said it years ago but I didn’t and you deserve to know why. You deserve to know everything.

I don’t know how much you do know, or you remember, but I think it’s not much from what I’ve heard and because, even after, when you saw me, you’d still smile at me. But this will explain things, I hope.

It was me who tore you and Feb apart. Me and Denny.

I didn’t mean to be a part of it. I didn’t even know I was. But, in the end, I had to be.

Denny knew I liked you. I told him a long time ago. A high school crush. We were good friends, Denny and I. I talked about you, he talked about Feb. He liked her a whole lot. Said she was special and they had a special friendship but it was secret. You couldn’t know or, he said that Feb told him, you’d be angry. Now, I don’t think this was true, but then I believed him.

It happened after that, though. You’d graduated from Purdue and we were all pretty much waiting for you two to get married. But Denny came home from Northwestern and talked to me and told me Feb had told him that things weren’t going too good between you two. Feb was going to break up with you and it would soon be over. I guess I wasn’t over my crush on you, in the end, the way things turned out. I guess that’s why I did what I did. I keep trying to figure it out and that’s what I’ve come up with.

Denny talked me into going to that party at the Eisenhowers. Do you remember it? I’m sure you do. Denny told me to “live a little”. Normally, I wouldn’t go but when I talked to Emily, she said it would be fun. She was always trying to get me to go out. So, we went.

I wish, Colt, so much over the years, you have to know, I wish I hadn’t.

I saw you there, you and Feb, and it didn’t seem Denny knew what he was talking about. You two seemed fine to me, like normal, like always.

Later that night, Denny brought me a drink, said I needed to “loosen up”. I wasn’t much of a drinker, never was. It hit me, what he brought me, real fast. I thought it was just a beer but I don’t think it was. I couldn’t know for sure, but, at the time, I just thought I was a lightweight, getting drunk on a few sips of beer.

Denny saw me going funny and told Emily he’d take care of me. What a laugh. Denny taking care of me. But I didn’t know then and neither did Emily. We both thought he was my friend. Some friend.

He took me upstairs and said I should just lie down for awhile. I don’t remember it all, bits here and there, I felt so strange, like I wasn’t me. I thought he was being nice, taking care of me, a good friend. Friends don’t do what he did to me. They don’t. But I wouldn’t know that until later, when I learned Denny was not my friend at all.

At first, I didn’t even know you were in the bed he put me in. And Colt, I swear, I promise and I swear, I don’t know how it started. But, I think I started it. I wasn’t thinking, I don’t know what I was doing. I just started kissing you. You were there and you were Colt and I think I started kissing you. I was so drunk or whatever, it’s all so fuzzy, you didn’t kiss me back, or you did, I don’t know. It didn’t hit me until later that you weren’t acting like you, you were acting like me. Like you were drunk or whatever. This is terrible and embarrassing but you have to know because I think I took advantage of you. We were moving around and somehow I got you on top of me and I liked it. I’m sorry, but I liked it, it’s just the truth and you deserve to know the truth.

That’s when Feb walked in.

I knew Denny was lying when I saw the look on her face. It was like she just learned someone she’d loved had died. Even being messed up, I’ll never forget the look on her face.

Before I could say anything, she was gone and you were on top of me and I couldn’t get you off. You’d passed out and you were so big, so heavy, I couldn’t move you.

Then Denny was there, in the room, and I know he was in the room the whole time. He saw the whole thing. He was laughing, thought it was funny. I was trying to think straight, get you off me, get to Feb. I asked him to help me but he just kept laughing, saying, “Now it’s over. Now it’s over.” He said it again and again. He sounded so happy. I knew he wasn’t right then. I knew it. Really not right. But I didn’t see it, couldn’t think straight. Not until later, what he did to me and then, a lot later, what he did to Angie.

I got you off and I couldn’t get untangled from the sheets, I was so muddled, and I just gave up and started crying. Craig was there then and he was so mad at Denny and I was lucky, for once, because Craig took care of me. He took care of you and me.

That was hard but this is harder because you have to know why I didn’t say anything. Why I didn’t tell you or Feb what happened.

The next day, my folks went to church and Denny came over. I felt sick, from what happened and from whatever he gave me and trying to figure out what I’d say to you and Feb. That’s why I didn’t go to church with them. But, even if I wasn’t like that, I still couldn’t have fought him. I did fight him, but I didn’t win.

He hurt me, Colt. Right in the living room of my own home. He told me I couldn’t tell you or Feb what happened. “Don’t you fucking open your mouth,” he said. I’ll never forget it, those words, the way he said them. He wasn’t a Denny I knew. But I told him I was going to tell you and he got mean, then meaner, then he hurt me, Colt. In the worst way. The very worst way.

Colt pulled in breath then sat down in a chair.

He didn’t violate Amy and he didn’t have a son.

He’d been right. Denny had raped her.

The first didn’t make him feel better because he now knew the last.

He ran his fingers through his hair and then curved them around the back of his neck, squeezing tight, his eyes closed, the papers in his hand, Amy’s words, written in pretty, neat handwriting. He wondered how many times she wrote and rewrote them. Or if she just poured it out and sent it to her parents. The writing was too neat and he knew she’d practiced.

He bit his lip and pulled in another breath before he opened his eyes, slid the first sheet, which he’d read front and back, behind the other and started on the next page.

He left me and told me there was more of that if I opened my mouth. He knew, when I came up pregnant, that he did that to me. He sent me a note, put it in my mailbox and all it said was “Keep your mouth shut.” I kept it and gave it to Mom and Dad with this letter. I don’t know if it helps at all, but I’ll ask them to give it you.

Colt, I didn’t want that to happen to me again. That’s why I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until he hurt Angie, put her behind the bar, that I knew I had to do what was right. Don’t ask me how I knew it was him, just that, I did.

But I went to the bar and I couldn’t. The way Feb looked at me. I knew what she thought. And I couldn’t hurt either of you anymore than I already did. And I didn’t want him to hurt me.

So, by the time you get this, I will have made it so he can’t hurt me but you’ll know.

You can show this to Feb, I don’t mind. Promise. You were sweet together and I like the idea that maybe I did a little something to make it all right between you two again. I’m just sorry I left it so late, too late for Angie but maybe not too late for you and Feb.

Please don’t hate me, Colt. I couldn’t stand that. I promise, I wanted to do right.

And look into Denny. I can’t say I know that he did that to Angie except that I do. If he could do that to me, to you and to Feb, he could do that to Angie. He just could, Colt, trust me.

And one more thing and I’m sorry for this because I’m asking a favor I don’t deserve to ask. But I had to do it, to protect him and I know you’re a good man and you might not want to protect me but I figure you’ll want to protect him.

I lied on the birth certificate. I said the father was Craig. I thought, if my boy ever came looking, that he should have a father he’d want to find, not Denny. If my boy comes looking, you have to talk to Craig. You have to tell him to keep my secret. You have to help protect my boy. I know it’s a lot to ask, of you and of Craig, but I don’t want him knowing, if he ever wants to find out, where he came from. Tell him Craig and me were young, but we were happy and we were in love. We weren’t, but he was a good friend and he’s a good man and every child should think they have a good Dad and they came from love, don’t you think?

My folks know what happened, they got their own letter and I know they’ll stand by me. I just hope you and Craig will too. Will you do that for me? Please?

That’s all there is to tell except to say I’m sorry. Really, so sorry. You don’t know how much.

Amy

Colt read the last line again then again and he knew Amy was wrong. He knew how sorry she was, he’d seen her hanging from her ceiling fan. He knew just how sorry she was for something she fucking didn’t do.

He slid the papers back into the envelope slowly and smoothed the clasp shut. Then he set it on the table and went to the door. He opened it to find the Harrises standing outside, Mrs. Harris holding a paper cup with a cardboard protector, the string from a teabag dangling.

“Would you come back in?” Colt asked.

They nodded and walked in, their eyes on the envelope.

“Please, sit.”

“Are you okay, son?” Mr. Harris asked instead of sitting and Colt looked at him.

“No,” he answered truthfully. “You had a beautiful, kind daughter who is no longer of this world and never did a thing wrong to anyone and definitely not to me but she lived twenty-two years thinking she did. I’m not okay with that.”

Mr. Harris’s body grew taller, his shoulders straightening.

Mrs. Harris’s body grew smaller, her shoulders sagging.

“We aren’t either,” Mrs. Harris whispered and Colt saw the tears trembling in her eyes.

“It helps, though,” Mr. Harris said quietly, “to know you aren’t either.”

“Please, sit,” Colt repeated.

Mrs. Harris didn’t sit, she asked, “Will you tell February?”

Colt nodded. “Yes, I will. Soon as I can.”

“Will she understand?” Mrs. Harris asked, her voice slightly higher, worried.

“She already does,” Colt assured her. “We figured some of it out already. She’s not okay with what was done to Amy either.”

Mrs. Harris nodded, a tear slid down her cheek and she looked to her husband.

“We heard things, since we been back to town,” Mr. Harris said. “Are they going to get him?”

“Yes,” Colt said, knowing he shouldn’t. Anything could happen, you didn’t give assurances you couldn’t stake claim to, but he said it all the same.

Mr. Harris gestured to the envelope. “Amy would want you to use that, if you need to,” he opened his jacket and pulled another envelope out, this one smaller, white, “and this,” Mr. Harris finished, putting the white envelope on top of the yellow one.

“When did you receive these?” Colt asked.

“The day Doc called,” Mr. Harris answered, running an arm around his wife’s waist and pulling her close. “We were out, didn’t open the mail, not until after he called. We thought it could wait until we delivered it to you, face to face.”

Colt nodded. Amy had planned her death precisely and he hated it that those plans were the last thing she carried out in this world. As he nodded, he heard Mrs. Harris’s breath hitch.

“You need us anymore?” Mr. Harris asked, pulling his wife closer, wanting to get out of there.

“No, sir.”

Mr. Harris nodded and led his wife to the door. Colt followed and watched the older man stop at the door then turn.

“Please don’t talk to Craig ‘less you have to.”

Colt nodded.

“She’d want you at her funeral. Will you do that for her?”

Colt didn’t miss a beat. “Feb and I’ll be there.”

“Mean a lot to Amy.”

“We’ll be there.”

“Tomorrow, three o’clock. Service before. Markham and Sons.”

“We’ll be there,” Colt repeated.

Mrs. Harris lifted her wet face to Colt and whispered, “You always were a good boy.”

“And Amy always was a sweet girl,” Colt returned, she nodded, fresh tears falling from her eyes, both her lips disappearing around her teeth.

Her husband bustled her out and Colt followed them close like a guard down the hall, through the bullpen with police and Feds studiously avoiding looking at the grieving couple, down the hall, through the front doors, down the stairs and to their rental car on the street.

Mr. Harris stopped, shook Colt’s hand. When her husband moved away, Mrs. Harris got close, wrapped her fingers around his upper arm, leaned up high and Colt bent low so she could touch her cheek to his.

“Life lands blows you don’t expect,” she whispered against his cheek. “They wind you and there’s some you never get your breath back. We didn’t know, we asked, she never answered, but we suspected. Amy never got her breath back.” She pulled her face away but stayed close and looked him in the eye. “Get your breath back, Alexander, Amy would want that for you.”

“All my life, had good people looking after me,” Colt promised her. “I get winded, I recover. Now, even with that, I’m breathing just fine, Mrs. Harris.”

That last was a lie, but she didn’t know that.

Though he wasn’t lying, he’d recover.

She squeezed his arm, nodded again, let him go and turned away.

Colt watched the street long after their car disappeared.

Then he turned, took the front steps two at a time then the inside stairs the same.

“Colt!” Sully called but Colt kept walking to interrogation one.

“Not now, Sully,” he called back.

He hit interrogation one, grabbed the envelopes, headed out, dropped the white envelope on his desk and went back down the stairs at a jog. Then out of the Station. When he hit the sidewalk, he was running.

He pulled open the door to J&J’s and Feb, behind the bar, looked at him.

“Office,” he said before she could do the jaw tilt.

He watched her head twitch as he covered the ground in less strides than it normally took him. As he went she hurried down the bar. She hit the office barely a second after him. He took her arm, pulled her inside, slammed the door and then pushed her against it. He moved into her, fully invading her space, his arm with the hand holding the envelope went around her waist, low, pulling her hips to his. His chest leaned deep, pressing her shoulders to the door. His other hand went to her jaw and he dipped his face close.

“I didn’t violate Amy and I don’t have a kid,” he told her.

He watched her blink fast, twice.

“What?” she asked.

“What’d you see when you saw us?” he asked.

She shook her head, jerky, back to blinking.

“What?” she repeated.

His fingers tensed on her jaw, “Baby, what’d you see when you saw me and Amy?”

He knew by the look on her face she didn’t want to relive it but she was also looking at his face, she read it and she did it, for him.

“You were under the covers, moving, you were on top of her, you were kissing. I could see her knees up, you were between her legs.”

“Were we dressed?”

Her eyes grew dazed, unfocused then she came back to him and she answered, “Yes. I think so, up top I could see, but you were under the covers. I didn’t –”

He pulled slightly away and held the envelope between them.

“Read this, Feb. It’s from Amy. Her parents gave it to me.”

She stared at it like Ryan stared at the pad, like he suspected he’d looked at that envelope half an hour before.

He ran his fingers down her jaw before his hand fell away and he said, “It isn’t easy to read, baby. Lowe raped her.” She gasped, her eyes flew from the envelope to him, he gave her a squeeze with his arm and went on. “It’s ugly but it isn’t surprising. I thought it’d hurt you anymore than he already has, I swear, Feb, I wouldn’t let you touch it. But Amy wanted you to see it.”

She stared at him for awhile before she nodded and took the envelope but Colt didn’t make her read it on her own. His arm went around her and he pulled her lower body close until it touched his and he kept her there while her eyes slid back and forth across the page. She flipped the first paper then she moved to the next, flipping that too. Colt watched as she read and her eyes filled with tears, her bottom lip quivering, but she held them back.

When she was done, she tilted her head and whispered, “I’m so stupid.”

He pulled the papers from her hand, turned and tossed them on the desk and came back to her, his arm still around her, his other hand going to her jaw, he dropped his forehead to hers.

“Don’t go back there, Feb, that wasn’t where I was taking you.”

“I was drunk… I saw –”

He touched his mouth to hers to stop her words then said, “Baby, don’t go back there. Stay here, with me. You’re goin’ where Denny’s leading you, not me, not Amy.” She pulled in breath, fought the train of her thoughts and nodded. “She wanted you to know.” Feb nodded again. “She wouldn’t want any more pain.” Feb nodded yet again. “She’d want you to let it go.”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“She gave all she could so we could let it go.”

The tears slid down her cheeks and she repeated softly, “Yeah.”

“The Harrises want us at her funeral.”

She nodded again but her breath snagged.

“They need to see Amy didn’t die for nothing.”

“But she did,” Feb whispered, her lips catching tears and her tongue slid out to clean them way.

“They need to think she didn’t.”

Feb nodded yet again. “We can give them that.”

He pulled her in both of his arms, she stuffed her face in his neck and wrapped her arms around him, holding on tight.

“I hate him, Colt,” she said into his neck, her voice thick, clogged, sounding choked.

“I know you do, honey.”

She bunched his blazer in her fists at his back, yanking down on it hard before she sobbed, “God, I hate him.”

He held her until she cried it out and pulled her face out of neck, tipping her head back to look at him. She let him go with one of her hands and wiped her face.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Will be, when this’s over.”

She nodded again and whispered, “Maybe wrong, seein’ as it was the way it was with Denny raping her, but I’m glad you don’t have to live thinkin’ you did what I thought you did.”

Colt helped her wipe her face before he said, “That isn’t wrong, baby.”

She dropped her forehead to his shoulder, sucked in a deep breath that expanded her whole body, Colt settled a hand around the back of her neck and when she let out her breath, she asked his chest, “We still on for Frank’s?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Her breath hitched again and she said, “Missed too much already.”

Colt closed his eyes before he opened them and ordered, “February, look at me.”

She did what she was told and tipped her head back.

“Just as much a waste of time thinkin’ about what life might have brought as it is thinkin’ you can turn back the clock and change things.”

She bit the side of her lip as her eyes slid to the side then she tilted her head and looked back at him. “But you’ve missed dozens of frittatas.”

There she was. There was his girl.

“Just dozens?” he asked.

“You haven’t had my homemade waffles yet. Or my Omelet a la Feb.”

Colt smiled. “Damn, baby, look at me. I’m a forty-four year old man who’s got a life of breakfast delights waiting for him.”

She smiled back, it wasn’t bright but it was something. “Don’t think you don’t have to earn them.”

“I’ll earn ‘em.”

She got up on her toes and touched her lips to his before looking him right in the eye.

“You better.”

When Colt hit the top of the stairs at the Station he went directly to his desk to drop the envelope on it but nearly stuttered a step when his head swung right and he saw her.

Sully was right. At a glance, Cheryl “Candy” Sheckle was the spitting image of February.

Closer inspection showed she was younger by at least a decade, maybe more and life hadn’t been kind. It also showed her hair was dyed, not natural like Feb’s. She’d had her breasts enhanced, they were larger than Feb’s, didn’t fit her frame, which was tall and attractive. She didn’t have Feb’s style either but she was trying and this was likely because Lowe made her. She had a choker, not like Feb’s or even close, but it was there. The tangle of silver was at her neck and wrists, rings, hoops in her ears. Feb selected her jewelry for a reason that was individual and it stamped her personality on her. This woman had hers selected for her and it was both not as high quality and she didn’t carry it right. Her clothes were too tight but it was the t-shirt, jeans and boots. Again, not the same quality but near enough and she wore these, Colt suspected, because her man liked them, not because she did.

Her brown eyes caught sight of him and surprise flooded her face before she quickly averted her eyes and Colt felt his jaw get tight. She’d been given the same story as Ryan. She knew him and she knew him as a dirty cop.

Sully slid up to him as he dropped the envelope on his desk.

“Everything go all right with Amy’s parents?” he asked.

“Good as it could, considering she sent her suicide notes to them and in them they learned their daughter had been raped by Denny Lowe.”

Sully reared back a few inches before he breathed, “Fuck me.”

Colt got closer and his voice dipped lower. “Kid’s not mine, I didn’t touch her, never had my clothes off, either did she. Kid’s Denny’s.”

Sully’s face got red before he said, “This guy’s like a freakin’ tornado, devastation in his wake.” He looked at the envelope and back at Colt. “The note?”

“Yep, the one to me.”

“Can we use it?”

“Parents’ve given permission.”

“Feb know all this?”

“Just got back from the bar.”

“How’d she take it?”

“Not good but I learned I got waffles and omelets to look forward to, though I gotta earn ‘em so it ended on a high note.”

Sully smiled and it wasn’t with humor but something else. He didn’t make Colt wait long to find out what that something else was.

“You remember that time we were in Winter Park, Lorraine went to bed and you and I decided to see a Colorado sunrise so we stayed up all night drinkin’ and talkin’?” he asked then quickly added something that would give Colt an out if he didn’t want to enter the conversation. “You were pretty hammered.”

He was hammered. Enough to tell Sully everything about Feb, why he loved her and why it cut through the bone when he lost her. Not enough to forget he did it. It was after Melanie left, during the time he was pissed at her for giving up at the same time wondering if he unintentionally gave her some signal that she should.

“I remember.”

“What you said, what Lorraine told me, I still didn’t get it about February. Cold as ice to you. Everyone else, warm and sweet. All that mattered to me, she left and it scarred you.” Sully was still smiling that smile when he said, “Waffles, omelets, a second chance in the middle of a shit storm and a girl who can stand strong through this crazy mess and go to work every day?” He shook his head. “Now, I think I’m gettin’ it.” His smile finally filled with humor. “Better thing though, now you’re gettin’ it.”

Colt shook his head but he did it grinning. “Don’t be rude, Sul.”

“Gotta get you drunk, find out if she wears those chokers to bed,” Sully joked.

“Now you’re pissin’ me off.”

“Man, I’m just sayin’, beware. Everyone wants to know that.”

Before Colt could answer, he heard Nowakowski call, “Lieutenant Colton?”

He automatically looked to the right and saw Cheryl Sheckle glancing around hope in her face or expectation. Happy expectation. She thought her lover was close.

Colt hated to do it but Nowakowski wouldn’t have called his name unless he wanted to make his point so he called back, “Yeah?”

Cheryl’s body locked but her eyes sliced to him. Then the color fled from her face.

“Would you like to assist with this interview?” Nowakowski asked, tipping his head to Cheryl and Cheryl looked at Nowakowski then at Colt, face still white, now her hands were clenched.

What that fucking guy was playing at, Colt had no clue and he wished the asshole would have cued him.

“I’m thinkin’ you got it,” Colt answered wondering how this was, exactly, “taking care of Candy” as he promised Ryan he would do.

“Your call,” Nowakowski lied, it wasn’t Colt’s call at all and he wondered what the bastard would have done if Colt had answered, “Yeah, sure.”

Then Nowakowski motioned toward the hall that led to the interrogation rooms. “Ms. Sheckle, if you would?”

Her movements showed she was forcing them. She’d come in of her own accord thinking this was about the investigation of a dirty cop she was supposedly a part of. Now she wasn’t so sure she wanted to be there. Still, she moved and Nowakowski and Warren followed her down the hall.

“Rodman says we’re not allowed to eat popcorn during the interview. Might interfere with the equipment,” Sully whispered as he and Sully followed Rodman into the hall.

Marty had brought in strombolis from Reggie’s for lunch. Colt’s was sitting like a weight in his gut. Popcorn would take him over the edge.

He didn’t answer Sully as they walked into the room next to interrogation two. Cheryl was already seated, her purse on the table by her side. Nowakowski had decided to sit across from her. Warren, younger and far better looking than Nowakowski, was completely different than he was in the interview with Ryan. He was sitting at the side of the table. His pose was relaxed, the tutor there to help with prompts and provide support. Nowakowski was the professor who’d ask difficult questions on a test that, if she failed, she’d be fucked.

Nowakowski opened a folder and pulled out Denny and Marie’s wedding photo, flipped it around and set it down in front of Cheryl. Already pale and visibly uncertain, the wedding photo was an act of cruelty. With one look at her face when she saw the photo, Colt knew she had no idea Denny was married, now or ever.

“Ms. Sheckle, do you know this man?”

Eyes glued to the photo, she swallowed then nodded.

“Who is he?”

“Lieutenant Alec Colton,” she answered then went on hurriedly, her eyes lifting, “I mean, Alexander. His name is –”

“Lieutenant Alexander Colton was standing outside, Ms. Sheckle,” Nowakowski interrupted her. “The tall man with the dark hair. Did you see him?”

She shook her head and looked at Warren then she leaned forward. “Okay,” she started, her voice a loud whisper, “I don’t know what you guys think but that man out there is no good. Okay? Alec told me he’s dirty. You need to find Alec. Something’s wrong.”

“Alec was standing outside, Ms. Sheckle, would you like me to ask him to come in, show you his credentials?” Nowakowski asked.

“No!” she cried, leaning back but putting her hands, palms down, flat on the table. “No, you have to listen to me. Alec told me he’s –”

Nowakowski leaned forward and tapped Denny’s photo, his tone had changed. It was quiet, even gentle when he said, “Cheryl, can I call you Cheryl or would you prefer Candy?”

“Cheryl,” she said swiftly.

“Cheryl, the man in this photo is a Mr. Dennis Lowe. He worked for a computer software company and he was married. He was impersonating a police officer, a real one by the name of Alexander Colton. He was doing this because he’s obsessed with a woman named February –”

Nowakowski stopped talking because Cheryl Sheckle’s body jerked violently and she let out a muted cry.

“Fuck, he called her February,” Sully muttered.

“No,” Cheryl whispered.

“He called you that didn’t he?” Nowakowski asked.

She shook her head and whispered again, “No.”

“He didn’t call you that?”

She kept shaking her head. “He said it was because he met me in February. He said it was a nickname.”

Warren shook his head then, “It isn’t a nickname, Cheryl. It’s a real person, her name is February Owens and he’s been obsessed with her since they went to high school together.” Nowakowski didn’t give her a break, didn’t let it settle in, before he added, “She looks like you, Cheryl. You’ve seen her in the tapes, haven’t you?” Nowakowski asked, pushing but still being gentle. “Have you seen her in the tapes? Doesn’t she look like you?”

“He said he was a cop. He said –”

Warren leaned close. “He lied to you, Cheryl.”

She closed her eyes tight, still shaking her head. “He was nice to me. He was nice. Men aren’t…” she opened her eyes and whispered, “He was gentle with me. He said he loved me. He said we were born to be together.”

“Alexander Colton, the man outside, the man you’ve seen in the tapes, he’s February Owens’s boyfriend. They have a history, Lieutenant Colton and Ms. Owens, a long one. They were born to be together, if you believe that kind of thing,” Nowakowski told her.

She started shaking, her arms crossing on her chest, her hands rubbing her upper biceps. “Why –”

“I’m sorry, Cheryl, but he used you to spy on the objects of his fascination. The man he wants to be, Lieutenant Colton, and the woman he wants to have, February Owens,” Nowakowski informed her.

“Why would he do that?” she asked but the pitch of her voice said not only didn’t she want to know, any answer Nowakowski gave her she wouldn’t believe.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why someone would do that,” Nowakowski told her.

She kept rubbing her arms. “I have a kid, a son, he’s good to him. Was teaching him football. Said he was All-State, he played for Purdue.”

“Yes, that’s true. Lieutenant Colton was All-State and he played for Purdue.”

She shook her head, rubbing her arms up and down, her eyes filling with tears, spilling over, the wet tracking down her cheeks.

She looked at the photo and asked, “He’s married?”

Layering of betrayals. Nowakowski didn’t cool it she was going to get crushed underneath.

“He was, Cheryl,” Nowakowski said and Warren turned to look at him, Nowakowski shook his head to Warren before he said to Cheryl, “Now, Cheryl, when was the last time you saw this man?” he tapped the photo, “Mr. Lowe.”

She looked away then back. “Wednesday, not yesterday, last Wednesday.”

Fucking hell, the day he murdered Angie.

“It was my day off,” she continued, “He took me and Ethan to dinner. Said he wouldn’t be back for awhile. Had to go undercover on something. Asked if he could use my car, gave me his Audi. Even had it cleaned for me all the way through. The inside was still wet.”

“Fucking hell. She drove here in his fucking car,” Rodman murmured.

“What kind of car do you drive, Cheryl?” Warren asked.

“Toyota.”

“Model, color?” Warren asked.

“Blue. Ethan likes blue. Um… Corolla.”

“Year?” Warren kept at her and her eyes focused on him.

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Because we need to find him.”

“Why? Because he impersonated a cop?” She flipped her hand out, her betrayal had settled, the anger was sweeping in after it. “He’s obviously a dick but what’s the big deal?”

“Please, Cheryl, just tell us the year of your car.”

“Two thousand five, I think.”

“Is it registered to you?”

“Yeah. Sure. Who else?”

Rodman turned and left the room.

“Has he had any contact with you since dinner that Wednesday?” Warren asked.

“Yeah, sure, of course, he calls me every day.” Her voice was clipped now, her hands no longer rubbing her arms but grasping them. Protective. Anger was now settled and, quicker than Colt would have expected, bitter was moving in. She’d been fucked over before. A lot.

“The DVDs you were giving him, the ones from Ryan?” Warren asked and she stopped gripping her arms, her hands fell into her lap and she stared at him. “Are you still giving them to him?”

She shook her head, this time the shakes came short and fast. “Ryan’s a good kid. He’s a good kid.”

“We’ve talked to Ryan, Cheryl. We know he’s a good kid,” Warren assured her. “Now, have you been sending the DVDs to Mr. Lowe?”

“Yes, yes. Fed Ex. He’d give me the addresses when he called and I’d send them. One a day since the one I handed him on Wednesday.”

“Do you have those addresses?” Warren asked.

“Yes, the receipts, those little slips they tear off one for you. They’re at home.”

“Can we go to your home, Cheryl, get the receipts?”

She nodded. “Sure, but why? Who cares?”

“He’s surveilling a police officer and his girlfriend. Unlawful entry to set up the cameras and –” Warrens started but she cut him off.

“Whatever,” she said, pulling her purse to her she dug in it and yanked out her keys. She was over it, done with Denny Lowe, ready to scrape him off and move on with her life, alone, without help, stripping to keep her kid fed. She tossed the keys on the table and she asked, “Am I gonna get my car back?”

“We’ll do what we can, Cheryl,” Warren said as Nowakowski nabbed the keys and exited the room. “Where was the last package you sent going to?”

Colt expected her to say Sturgis or Rapid City.

Instead she said, “Taos it’s someplace in New Mexico.”

“Fuck,” Colt hissed, reaching for his phone, he yanked it out and called Feb.

“Hey,” she answered.

“Baby, who do you know in Taos, New Mexico?”

“What?”

“Who do you know in Taos, New Mexico?”

Her voice went guarded and she asked, “From the list?”

“Anyone, Feb. Do you know anyone in Taos or around there?”

“Yeah,” she told him, “Reece is there.”

Fucking shit.

Colt turned to the table behind him, pulling his pad and pen from his inside jacket pocket, he asked, “Reece his first name or his last?”

“Last.”

“First name?”

“Graham.”

“Got a number? An address?”

“Colt –”

“Number, Feb. Hurry, baby.”

“Hang on…” she went away, probably checking her phonebook on her cell, and Colt flipped up the leather cover to his pad, put it on the table and bent over it, pen ready when she came back. “Five seven five, triple five, two zero zero two.”

Colt took the numbers down and repeated them then asked, “Would he have one? An address? A place he gets mail?”

“Sure, he rents a place. Don’t have his address on me, it’s at home.”

“Thanks honey, see you at six.”

“Colt, is Reece in –?”

“At six, Feb, I have to go. Right now.”

She hesitated then said, “Right. Six.”

“Later, baby.”

Her voice was shaking when she said, “Later, Colt.”

Two days ago her shaking voice would scare the piss out of him. Now he knew she’d pull it together.

Colt flipped his phone closed and looked at Sully.

“Victimology is wrong,” he said to Sully, pushing his phone in his pocket and tearing the paper off the pad. “He’s not going after Grant because Grant never fucked her. He’s going after anyone who fucked her.”

“This Reece guy?”

“Was he on the list?”

“Nope.”

Colt headed to the door, Sully trailing. “That’s because he’s an ex-lover and he never did anything to her.”

“But he’s wreaking vengeance for her,” Sully said as they hit the hall. “He told us himself.”

“He’s wreaking his vengeance, not vengeance for her. Angie never did her wrong, not really.”

“Why the fuck would he kill her then?” Sully asked.

“Who the fuck knows?” Colt answered and he stopped at Rodman who was hitting a button on his phone. “This is the next victim’s phone number,” he handed Rodman the paper. “Taos, New Mexico. Graham Reece. He’ll be renting, not a long term resident and likely workin’ a bar.”

“Sheckle’s been sending gift packages,” Rodman surmised, hitting buttons on the phone, the paper held up in front of him, his eyes scanning, multitasking.

“Only person Feb knows in New Mexico, they’re close.”

“He do her wrong?” Rodman asked.

“Nope, he just did her. Lowe wants to erase from the earth anyone who touched her,” Colt answered.

“She needs to make a new list,” Rodman said.

“She does, only name left on it would be mine.”

Rodman blinked at him then mouthed, “Voicemail.”

“I’ll run a check, see if I can pull up an address or employment records on Reece,” Sully said and hoofed it to his desk.

“Graham Reece,” Rodman said into the phone, turning and starting to walk away, “this is Special Agent Maurice Rodman of the FBI. You’re not in trouble and I need you to call this number the minute you get…”

Colt stood there alone in the bullpen which was filled with activity all around and he didn’t have a fucking thing to do but wait.

An hour later Cheryl Sheckle sat in a chair across the room, her purse in her lap, her arms wrapped around it, her head turned to the side, her face set in stone.

She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail and she’d taken off all her jewelry, every last piece. If she could, he knew, she’d change her clothes, erase the Feb Impersonation that’d been forced on her, start finding the way back to herself.

Colt saved the file on Amy Harris he was finishing, got up and walked over to Cheryl. She didn’t indicate in any way that she knew he was approaching except her body grew stiffer with his every step.

“Got a ride home?” he asked, standing over her. The Audi had been impounded.

“Mom’s comin’.” Short, precise, neither word she wanted to say.

“She gonna be awhile?”

“Probably.”

“Want coffee?”

She looked at him, tipping her head back, her eyes hitting his before she clipped, “No.”

“Get up, Cheryl. There’s a place a coupla blocks away from here. I’ll buy you a coffee and you’ll want a brownie from there. At least a cookie. You can call your Mom and tell her to pick you up there.”

“So, what? You’re Mr. Nice Guy?” she snapped.

Colt shook his head and said, “Same guy done us both wrong. I thought least we could do since we share something like that, somethin’ neither of us wanted to share and it was neither of our choice, we could share a great coffee and a fuckin’ good brownie. That would be our choice and, trust me, it’s worth the walk.”

He saw her jaw work as she clenched her teeth through making a decision.

“Better’n sittin’ around here,” she finally mumbled as she stood, hitching the purse on her shoulder.

“Place’s called Mimi’s Coffee House,” Colt said as he passed a Sully who had his brows raised and his eyes on Colt. “Call your Mom. Just a couple blocks up from the Station.”

Colt walked by her side as they made their way out of the Station and down the sidewalk. She called her mother as they went and he listened as she drew out the conversation with her Mom in order not to have to speak to him. She flipped the phone shut just as they hit the counter where a wide-eyed Mimi stood. Colt had already shaken his head to Meems in order to shut her up. He needed her ribbing him about February right then like he needed a hole in the head.

“Caramel latte, a large one, and one of those turtle brownies,” Cheryl ordered.

Mimi nodded and smiled then she looked at Colt. “Regular for you, Colt?”

“Right, Meems.”

“Take a load off, I’ll bring ‘em out,” Mimi told them.

Colt led Cheryl to a table at the window not wanting her near Feb’s place or the scratches that declared it so. Cheryl had enough to deal with, she didn’t need to see that Feb belonged in a warm, welcoming coffee house with a proprietress who smiled and made orgasmic fucking brownies though he suspected she already knew if she watched any of the tapes. But she didn’t need to know the fact that Feb belonged in a place like this so much, her name was etched into the furniture.

Cheryl sat with a view to the street. Colt sat with a view to the door.

They were silent until after Mimi left their order on the table and walked away.

“I know you think I’m a moron,” Cheryl told Colt, her mouth hard, her eyes though, now on him, held hurt.

“Trusting someone nice to you doesn’t make you a moron. It makes the person who fucked you over an asshole,” Colt replied.

She jerked her eyes from him and looked out the window.

“Feds talk to you about protection?” Colt asked and Cheryl didn’t acknowledge his question so he went on. “Denny’s behaving erratically, Cheryl, be good for you to take your son and disappear for awhile.”

“Got a friend in Ohio, he doesn’t know about her,” she muttered, eyes at the window, “already called her.”

“Good,” Colt said and leaned forward, took out his wallet, pulled out a card and slid it across the table to her before he put his wallet back and leaned back in his chair. Cheryl eyed his card but didn’t touch it.

“You take that card, Cheryl,” he said quietly and her eyes came to his but her body didn’t turn to him. “You find another man, you call me. I’ll run a check on him, see he’s clean.”

She rolled her eyes, not like Feb, not with humor at the foibles of the world, but with disgust, before she shook her head twice and said, “Right.”

“Cheryl –”

She turned bodily to him and wrapped her arms around her chest, grabbing her biceps, protective again but her voice was fuelled with acid. “I know what he did. Denny,” she spat out the name, “killed folks. You think I’m gonna find another man? You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

“I know it won’t seem like it now but you’ll find a time when you change your mind.”

“Bullshit,” she hissed, voice quiet but both furious and terrified, leaning toward him. “He’s been around my kid! I been fuckin’ a murderer!”

Colt leaned forward too and said, just as quiet but with no fury or terror, just force, “No, you thought you were fuckin’ me.”

“Makes it better?” she asked, brows going up, disbelief filling her face. She thought he was nuts.

“Yeah. It does.”

“You that good?” Now she was sarcastic.

“No complaints, Cheryl,” he told her honestly, “the thing is, I work hard to be a good cop, a good friend and that’s what he was playin’ at. That’s what he showed you. That’s what he wanted you to believe. You believed it, lick your wounds but let ‘em heal and move on. When you do, you come to me and I’m tellin’ you now, I’ll do what I can to make sure you move on to the right guy.”

“So, this a new service cops provide to gals like me?”

“No, this is somethin’ I’d do for you because we both been fucked over by a sick fuck who threw you into hell and has been makin’ me and my woman live in one for twenty-two years. Anyone finds out I offered it, much less did it, I’d be fucked. But still, I’m offerin’ it to you. Throw away the card, I don’t give a fuck. But it was me, someone fucked me over and another person showed me a kindness, I’d take it. I’m guessin’ you don’t get much kindness thrown at you. Ryan, me, not much else, am I right?”

She looked away. He was right.

“Learn one thing from this, Cheryl,” Colt advised. “Learn to see a kindness, a real one, when it’s handed to you and learn to take it.”

She closed her eyes and twisted her neck, her face exposing pain before she opened her eyes and stared out the window again.

She wasn’t giving him anything more.

Colt took a sip from his to go cup and called to Mimi, “Meems, wrap up a couple more of those brownies and a few cookies. Cheryl here has a kid.”

“You betcha, Colt,” Mimi called back.

Colt turned to Cheryl and started to stand, saying, “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

He was on his feet before he heard her ask, “Twenty-two years?”

He looked down at her to see she was still staring out the window. “Yeah.”

She shook her head and the tears hit her eyes. The wall of hardness she’d built was flimsy, likely how Denny got in.

“You really All-State? Play at Purdue?” she asked, her eyes never leaving the window.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you go pro?”

“Good enough for Purdue, not near good enough for pro.”

“You want that?”

“Nope. I wanted to be a cop.”

She tipped her head back to look at him and he noticed for the first time she was very pretty. Not because she looked like Feb. All on her own.

A tear slid down her cheek and she said, “I wanted to be a dancer. Looks like we both got what we wanted, hunh?”

The words had the edge of bitterness which coated an underlying sadness.

“Card works a second way, Cheryl,” Colt said softly. “It works for kids who wanna learn to play football.”

She closed her eyes and new tears slid down her face.

“Got a friend named Morrie who’s got a boy, Palmer,” Colt went on. “We toss a ball around a lot. Ethan would be welcome.”

She nodded but looked away without a word.

“Feb would want to meet you,” he pushed it, speaking quietly.

“Why?” she asked the window.

“Because she’s a woman who’s led a lonely life forced on her by a number of shitty guys and she’s found her way through. She’d know what you’re feelin’ and she’d listen, or not, you don’t feel like talkin’. She owns a bar, least she could do is make you a drink.”

Cheryl put her hand to her ponytail, tugged it and said softly, “Right about now, I could use a drink.”

“J&J’s, two doors down, you can’t miss it and you’re welcome.”

She said no more, Mimi came up with a filled white bag and said to Colt, “I’ll put it on your tab.”

“Catch you on that tomorrow,” Colt told her as she set the bag beside Cheryl’s untouched brownie and quickly took off.

“Later, Cheryl,” Colt said and turned to the door.

“Lieutenant Colton?” she called, he stopped and looked at her.

“Friends call me Colt.”

She swallowed before she nodded and went on. “Colt,” then she whispered, “thanks for not bein’ an asshole.”

He smiled at her. It wasn’t the best compliment he’d ever had but, from Cheryl, it was likely one of the better ones she had to give.

Then he left.

At ten past six, Colt entered J&J’s, looked to the bar, saw Feb and didn’t get the jaw tilt.

She turned, walked down to his end and he met her there.

“Reece okay?”

Colt slid onto his stool. “Checked in, safe and sound and now on the alert for a hatchet murderer. Thinkin’ about takin’ a vacation.”

She closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank God.”

Colt fought back the jealousy her obvious emotion for this Reece guy caused. She didn’t need that now. They’d talk about the fact that she’d need to phone Reece and let him know that contact would be minimal and friendly from here on in but they’d talk about it later. And he’d share then that that contact would be very minimal and more cordial than friendly.

She opened her eyes and asked, “Off duty?”

“Yeah, baby. Beer.”

She twisted, got him a beer and set it in front of him.

“So, you wanna guess what a patty melt got you?” she asked.

She was still wearing the relief on her face, shoving the last drama aside and letting the next snatch of the good life in before the shit hit again. She reached under the bar and pulled up two white, square Styrofoam containers.

“Ham and cheese?” Colt asked.

Feb shook her head.

“Oh fuck, another tenderloin?”

She smiled then flicked the latch and the Styrofoam flipped opened.

“Patty melt!” she announced then burst out laughing, so hard she flopped down beside the food, her arm bent on the bar, her head on it, her hair flying everywhere.

She was hysterical and he should have called her about Reece. Then again, he found out that Reece was safe ten minutes ago so he walked the news to the bar. He didn’t know if that ten minutes would have stopped her from cracking up but he was learning that he probably shouldn’t have taken that chance.

He put his hand to the back of her neck and called, “February.”

Her shoulders were shaking and she also shook her head.

“I’m all right,” she told the bar then straightened, his hand fell away, she pulled her hair from her face and took in a breath before repeating, “I’m all right.”

“Be a cryin’ shame, honey, you miss me earnin’ an omelet because you cracked up.”

“An Omelet a la Feb,” she corrected him.

“I can’t say that,” he told her.

“Why not?”

“I’m a man, Feb. I don’t say shit like, ‘a la’ anything.”

She started laughing again, luckily this time not hysterically, before she said, “I’m not gonna crack up, Colt.”

“Promise me, baby.”

She leaned toward him, putting her elbows on the bar and whispered, “I promise.”

Colt leaned toward her, wrapped his hand around the back of her head, pulled her to him and kissed her.

When he pulled back, she asked, “So, how many folks are yanking out their cell phones just about now?”

Colt grinned at her and said, “Fuck ‘em.”

“Wanna move to China with me?”

“China?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s my next stop. Bet the Chinese won’t care you kissed me in a bar.”

“Soundin’ good, baby.”

“Now, you wanna know what I got for dinner?”

“Sure.”

“Reuben.”

“Sounds better than a patty melt.”

“I ordered a ham and cheese.”

Colt burst out laughing before he wrapped his hand behind her head and kissed her again.

“Trade ya,” he said when he sat back.

“You’re on,” she smiled before she got herself a diet.

I should have known it wouldn’t be an uneventful night because that wasn’t happening much for me these days.

The bar for a Thursday was busy. This sucked, not because we couldn’t use the money, we could always use the money. This sucked because it was so busy I didn’t get a lot of time to stand at Colt’s end of the bar talking to him. We’d been able to chat while we ate but I wanted to know how he felt about his shitty day, take his pulse about Amy and her note and, mostly, I just wanted to stand at his end of the bar and talk to him. Being busy meant I couldn’t do that which sucked.

Morrie was home with Delilah, still working hard on taking the trial out of their trial reconciliation and when Colt got there, I’d sent Mom and Dad home for a night of rest. It was Darryl, me and Ruthie with Colt playing my bodyguard. I didn’t like this either, this meant Colt would have a long night of it, unless the crowd lightened and I could get him home. I could trust Ruthie to close if the crowd got light, Darryl, not so much.

It was when Stew and Aaron walked in that I knew there was going to be trouble.

I knew this because Stew was an asshole, always was, always would be. He’d brought trouble into that bar more than once when Mom and Dad were running it and also after Morrie and I had taken over. Stew was two years older than Colt and had been married once, for six months, which was all his woman could take. No other woman was dumb enough to try it for even that long.

Aaron, on the other hand, was a nice guy, in Colt’s class at school. He was married, happily as far as I knew, and had two daughters he doted on. He and Stew hadn’t been friends in high school or close after. How and when they hooked up, I didn’t know. I just knew Stew could be trouble and Aaron was often along for the ride, mostly, it seemed, solely to yank Stew out of the trouble he caused. Why he put up with Stew was anyone’s guess. I couldn’t understand it but maybe, with home and hearth, wife and two girls, he needed to take a walk on the wild side that was Stew every once in awhile. Personally, I would have picked something else.

I also knew there was going to be trouble because I felt it coming from Colt’s end of the bar.

Colt looked for all the world like he was casually enjoying a beer at his best friend and reconciled girlfriend’s bar. But everyone knew he was being vigilant. He clocked Stew the minute Stew walked in and the hostility coming from Colt was palpable.

At first I didn’t get it. Except for the fact that everyone knew Stew was an asshole.

Then I got it.

Back in the day Stew was the first person who spread the rumor that he’d nailed me. The only one in town who’d have balls enough to break the seal and court Colt’s wrath. That was how much of an asshole he was. But, worse than that, he never touched me. I didn’t like him back then either and I’d never even kissed him, nor would I, not even if I was trashed.

Also, Aaron did the same. It was later, after Stew, before they became friends and it was different. And it hurt because I actually liked him. The difference was, I got sauced and made out with Aaron mostly because I liked him. He seemed to be a good guy, nice looking and, with him, I had some hope. So at some party we hooked up and went at it, even though I didn’t let him get his hands up my shirt. It only happened once and then Aaron called and asked me out but by then I’d heard the rumor that he’d fucked me and I told him to take a hike. He told me he didn’t spread it which likely he didn’t. It was likely we’d been seen necking and someone like Stew spread it. Then again, he didn’t say it wasn’t true either.

That last part was the part that hurt.

Those rumors spread far and wide and I knew Colt heard them, everyone did. I knew Colt heard them because after each new one, when he looked at me, he did it with less and less respect. Same as my Dad. And Morrie. And everyone.

That part hurt more.

And I knew now, with Colt knowing the truth, with two men who lied about me hitting J&J’s, the shit was going to hit the fan.

They came to the bar and Darryl cut me off to serve them. Darryl had been working at J&J’s for five years and he’d moved his family to the ‘burg then from a town about half an hour away to do it. A fresh start, mainly because it was the only job he could find after being let out of the joint. He wasn’t cutting me off from Stew and Aaron because he knew about the history, he was doing it because he didn’t like Stew and he didn’t want me anywhere near him.

Darryl had done time twice, both for assault. He’d been to anger management classes so often they could name the program after him. Second time inside, though, he got a counselor he liked to talk to, someone he could trust and he let some shit go. Not all of it, but enough to get a lock on it and keep his cool.

Darryl might not have been the brightest bulb in the box but that didn’t mean he couldn’t read people. You learned that in life, if you paid attention. You learned it in prison, if you wanted to stay healthy. And you learned it in a bar, if you wanted to stop trouble before it started. Therefore, Darryl had a lot of practice.

Darryl also wasn’t dumb enough to know that Morrie and I put up with a lot of his shit. Then again, Morrie and I were smart enough to know that an ex-con who everyone knew had been locked down twice for assault and had the body of a human bulldog and the loyalty of a German shepherd made an excellent bar back. Not many who knew him would mess with Darryl and, given the opportunity, family or not, he’d seriously consider laying down his life for Mom, Dad, Morrie or me.

I left Darryl to it and went about my business but I kept an eye out.

I didn’t have to wait. The minute Stew and Aaron paid, Stew took a look at me then his head swung to Colt. Then back to me. He didn’t even hesitate before he wandered toward Colt and I had the distinct feeling his hearing about Colt and I was the reason he came in.

Aaron on the other hand, did hesitate as he should. I saw as the light dawned on him as to Stew’s intentions and he started whispering to Stew. But Stew had his eyes on Colt, his face set and I knew he wanted trouble.

Colt had his eyes on Stew and his face was set too and I knew he was willing to give it to him.

I felt the whole bar tense, watching this and waiting for the showdown.

Stew hit Colt’s end of the bar, settling in, standing right next to Colt.

Stew barely got an elbow down and his head turned to Colt before Colt bellowed, “February!”

It was a bellow, it was loud and it carried.

I was surprised by this. Colt wasn’t a man who bellowed. If Colt had a point to make, he did it quiet. Further, when he was with me and, although it pained me watching him all those years with Melanie, I knew he was gentle with his women. He could tease and be annoying in doing it and he had a temper, definitely. He would raise his voice if he got aggravated but there was never any danger there, not like what I felt from Pete when his temper would start to rear out of control. And I’d learned, watching Colt with Susie and feeling the hit of it myself, he could play dirty, but bellowing… not his style.

Also I wasn’t the type of woman to be summoned by a man. Not that I had many men to be summoned by but the last one I really had, Pete, taught me the valuable lesson that I should always be me. I might have lost hold of me for awhile but one thing was for certain after Pete, February Owens was not someone who was summoned.

However, looking toward the end of the bar, I had to be the February Owens that part-owned J&J’s and didn’t want trouble in her bar. I also had to be the Feb, of the brand new and improved Feb and Colt, and, for whatever reason, and whatever reason that was it was important, my man wanted me.

Darryl looked at me but I went right to Colt, Stew watching me move, Colt not tearing his eyes from Stew, Aaron hanging back.

I stopped in front of Colt. “Yeah?”

“‘Round here, baby,” Colt said but he was still looking at Stew.

Shit, what’d he want from me?

“Colt –”

Colt’s eyes finally came to me and one look at them I instantly scooted around, lifting the bar up on its hinges, sliding through the opening and dropping it behind me.

By the time I got there, Colt had turned. His heels were up on the stool’s foot rail, legs bent, knees pointed toward the wall but his torso was twisted toward Stew. The minute I got near, his arm hooked around my waist and he pulled me between his legs.

Stew turned to watch, his forearm on the bar, his upper body leaning into it, his eyes on my breasts.

“Ain’t that sweet?” he muttered.

“Stew –” Aaron started.

“Don’t you think?” Stew cut him off by asking.

Colt didn’t give Aaron a chance to answer.

“Which one of you wants to start?” Colt asked and this wasn’t a conversation meant just for the four of us. Colt wasn’t bellowing but he’d got folks’ attention and he’d kept it. They were listening and he was talking clear enough for those close to hear.

“Start what?” Stew asked.

“Colt –” I began but got a waist squeeze that told me to shut up. I decided, seeing the set look on Colt’s face, to shut up.

“Start apologizin’. For that shit you spread about Feb,” Colt answered.

“What shit?” Stew asked but he knew; he just wanted trouble.

“Heard it from your own lips you fucked her. Heard it from hers you didn’t. So I’m thinkin’, since you lied about her, you’d wanna take this opportunity to apologize.”

Yep, I was right about the trouble, but it was Colt wanting it and now I knew Stew would give it to him.

“She said I lied?” Stew’s brows went up, giving trouble to Colt just as I suspected. “Hmm…” his eyes trailed me, “maybe I did, maybe I dreamed it,” he turned and leaned both elbows on the bar before he mumbled, “great fuckin’ dream, so great, felt real.”

My body got tight, Stew was such an asshole.

“Stew –” Aaron began again.

Colt cut him off by saying to Aaron, “All right, you start.”

“Feb knows I didn’t say anything,” Aaron said to Colt.

“Yeah, though I remember seein’ you at Frank’s and everyone congratulatin’ you on your conquest, you didn’t say anything to the contrary either,” Colt returned and I hated with all my heart that Colt heard that shit.

I swung my gaze to Aaron and I knew it contained hurt and accusation. I knew this because I wanted it to.

Aaron took one look at me and shifted his feet.

Stew turned back to one arm on the bar and declared, right in front of me, “He nailed her.”

“Colt, this is useless –” I started.

“Quiet, Feb,” Colt murmured but to Stew he spoke louder, “So, you were there when Aaron fucked her?”

“Everyone fucked her, man,” Stew looked at me. “Too bad you changed, woulda been nice, you bein’ back, to –”

I interrupted him. “Stew, don’t be an asshole.”

“You like that?” Colt’s eyes were still on Aaron. “Would you like it for your girls? To hear someone talk trash to one of your girls like that? Say some dumb fuck got it in his head to spread rumors, say your girls were easy, sweet pieces. Spread it around that they gave it away to anyone who wanted it?”

“Colt, it was a long time ago,” Aaron said quietly.

“So, that’d be okay with you?” Colt pressed.

“Of course not,” Aaron said then looked at me. “It was a fuckwad thing to do,” he told me. “Stupid. I shoulda told folks they got the wrong end of the stick.”

“So you didn’t nail her?” Colt asked.

Aaron looked to his boots and mumbled, “No.”

Colt looked at Stew. “But you did. Asshole like you, can’t get a woman unless you pay for it, you tagged a sweet piece like Feb?”

Colt sounded incredulous and there was a snicker from somewhere close but I was too focused on what was happening to see who did it.

Stew had caught the insult, forgetting or not caring that he was lying through his teeth about me and not willing to take that kind of hit to his manhood, he pushed away from the bar. “Fuck you, Lieutenant Colton. I don’t gotta pay for it.”

Colt leaned back a bit. “I don’t know. I heard you did. Must be true.”

Darryl slid around the bar to position himself at Colt’s back.

“Shut your mouth, asshole, you didn’t hear that,” Stew clipped.

“I didn’t?” Colt asked, feigning surprise. “Might just talk to a few folks about it, see if they heard the same thing. They heard it, it has to be true.”

Stew straightened away from the bar and leaned slightly toward Colt. “That shit’s not funny, motherfucker.”

“No, guess it wouldn’t be, havin’ someone say shit about you others might believe,” Colt said. “Then again, Angie Maroni was known for doin’ everyone. Good woman, bad taste. Not so bad she’d give you a shot, though. Saw you my damned self, dozen times at least in this very bar, tryin’ it on with her. Even Angie wouldn’t give it up for you.”

“I nailed Angie,” Stew announced.

Colt’s eyebrows shot up. “You did? Like you nailed Feb? In your dreams? Or was Angie real?”

I watched Stew’s face, already set, grow rock hard and Aaron saw it too.

“Stew, let’s go,” Aaron said, his voice held urgency now.

“You think you own this town,” Stew spat. “Cop. Untouchable.”

“I’m off duty now, Stew, private citizen havin’ a drink at my woman’s bar.”

“You’re not untouchable.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

Darryl got closer. I sucked in breath. Colt waited.

He wanted it, wanted Stew to make the move. He was itching to wipe the floor with him and the bar waited with Colt, probably itching just as bad to watch him do it.

“Stew, come on, man, let’s go,” Aaron repeated.

“I should teach you a lesson,” Stew said and this was definitely a threat.

“I’ve always been a good student. Whatcha got for me?” Colt taunted.

Stew moved in closer. Colt let my waist go and then moved me aside. Darryl grabbed my upper arm and pulled me behind him.

That’s when Morrie showed out of the blue with Dee behind him.

“What’s goin’ on?” Morrie asked, the shiner Colt gave him the day before having moved toward darker and uglier, which was what it’d do for another day or two before it started to fade. He was positioning Dee well away and getting close to Aaron.

“Stew here’s gonna teach me a lesson,” Colt said.

“‘Bout what?” Morrie asked, his eyes never leaving Stew, he’d read the situation and he was on alert.

“‘Not sure, think it’s about pickin’ vulnerable women, spreadin’ lies about ‘em, sayin’ you fucked ‘em when you didn’t. Stew here says he fucked Feb and Angie, when I know he didn’t do either. Maybe it isn’t a lesson, maybe he wants to convince me,” Colt answered, not talking to Stew but not taking his eyes off him then he started to address Stew. “Angie, she can’t speak for herself. But Feb, now February tells me you’re a liar. What I want to know is, did you lie about my woman?”

Stew’s eyes were moving from Colt, to Darryl, to Morrie, not, I suspected, assessing the fact that he was fucked but, I suspected, deciding which one to try to take on first.

“Colt, man, stand down, it was years ago and she wasn’t your woman then,” Aaron waded in, trying to play peacemaker.

Colt still didn’t look away from Stew. “Honest to God, was there ever a time Feb wasn’t my woman?”

“Yeah, when she was bonking me,” Stew pushed it, “then she was all mine.”

Colt stood and got close, he had three inches on Stew but Stew didn’t back down.

Morrie and Darryl got closer too.

Morrie spoke. “Colt, dude, this guy’s not worth it.”

Colt ignored Morrie and called to me, “Feb, you got anything to say?”

Damn, now he was dragging me into it.

“Like what?” I called back.

Colt didn’t answer.

I watched the showdown for a few seconds and then I decided I was done. It went without saying my life was shitty enough without Colt confronting every asshole that slid through it. Especially at my bar. I moved around Darryl and stood next to Morrie, close to Colt and Stew.

“Colt, Morrie’s right. He isn’t worth it.”

“Did he fuck you?” Colt asked.

“Seriously?” I answered. “Pete was a dick but at least he was hot. You think I’d do this guy?”

“You hear that? She said she didn’t do you,” Colt said to Stew, leaning in closer, pushing it, they were nearly nose to nose and Stew held his ground.

“Who’d you do?” Morrie asked, sounding curious and glancing at Aaron.

“We already established I didn’t do Aaron, you missed that,” I told Morrie.

“Did you do Willie Clapton?” Dee called. “He’s hot and he said he did you.”

“No, I didn’t do Willie either. He might be hot but we made out and he’s not a good kisser. I’m talkin’ bad. I didn’t wanna go there.”

“Euw. Nothin’ worse than a bad kisser,” Dee noted.

“Willie’s a bad kisser?” Morrie asked.

“Don’t make me relive it,” I said to Morrie.

“That bad?” Morrie asked, I made a face and Morrie whistled low before saying, “Sheds new light on Willie.”

“Why’re we talkin’ about who Feb did?” Darryl asked.

“I think the point is Feb didn’t do anyone,” Colt said. “Am I right, Stew?”

Before Stew could answer, I offered helpfully, “I think the rumors got started because I necked a lot after I broke up you,” I told Colt. “Most of the time I was pretty drunk. Though I never made out with Stew, drunk or not.”

“You didn’t do anyone?” Morrie asked me, looking slightly shocked and I would have kicked him or at least punched his arm if the situation was a little less tense. However, the situation was very tense and I didn’t want to be the one to send it over the edge.

“I did Pete,” I answered.

“You were married to him,” Morrie returned.

“Don’t make me relive that either.”

Aaron moved in closer and tagged Stew’s shirt, giving it a tug before dropping his hand. “Come on, Stew, let’s just go.”

Morrie was focused, however. “You just made out with all these guys?”

“Not all of them, for example, not Stew,” I replied.

Stew’s eyes moved to me and then he made his move to Colt, but verbally. He wanted Colt to start it, likely because if Colt did, he’d get in worse trouble than Stew if it got ugly. There were a lot of eyes, a lot of witnesses. Stew started it, Colt could say he was defending himself. Colt started it, he would be fucked. Stew wasn’t like Pete; he wouldn’t back down and do the right thing with a little pressure from people. Pete did the right thing not because he was a good guy but because he was an outsider and he’d had a goodly taste of Colt’s fury backed up by a goodly amount of pressure to get the fuck out of Dodge. Stew would push it and make things difficult for Colt at work. It was frowned on, cops getting in bar brawls and beating the shit out of guys who wronged their girlfriends, no matter who the dickheads were that did it and how much they deserved it.

So Stew made his move by repeating to me, “Bullshit, Feb, I nailed you.”

Colt didn’t miss a beat before telling him, “I know you didn’t.”

Stew’s eyes went back to Colt. “And you know that how?”

“Because I have nailed her and trust me, you had her once, you’d go back for more.”

“Aw,” Dee said, “that’s kind of sweet.”

I rolled my eyes.

Colt suddenly sat down.

Then he said, “Finish your beer, Stew, then I wanna see you in here again never. I never wanna see you in here again.”

Stew stared at Colt, denied his altercation and with Colt unwilling to play finding himself in a position that he was unable to escalate it. Though, he tried.

“Backin’ down, Lieutenant Colton?” Stew taunted.

“Yep,” Colt replied casually, turning toward his beer, “I gotta bust your lip, I might split my knuckle and I want free use of my fingers tonight.”

That’s when I rolled my eyes again at Dee who was grinning at me.

“Jesus, Colt, her brother’s standin’ right here,” Morrie muttered, sounding only half-disgusted, the other half was amused and noting the standoff was over he started to walk behind the bar, finishing, “You’re off, Feb. Me and Dee are closin’.”

This shocking announcement took my mind off the tense situation.

“What?”

“Morrie’s gonna show me how to use the cash register,” Dee proclaimed, like Morrie was going to strap her into a spacecraft and take her on a tour of the stars. She was still grinning and following Morrie behind the bar.

“What?” I repeated to her back.

Dee turned and her face was awash in excitement. “And he’s gonna teach me how to mix drinks.”

“What?” I said again.

“You good, boss?” Darryl asked Colt.

“Yeah, Darryl,” Colt said, taking the final pull of his beer. Aaron had moved Stew a couple of feet away. The standoff was over. Colt backed off and sat down but everyone knew, even Stew, that Stew ended up the loser. We were all still the focal point of a lot of eyes but I wasn’t paying attention, something more important was happening.

I followed Dee and Morrie behind the bar.

“Who’s lookin’ after the kids?” I asked.

“Mom and Dad came over, just to wind down a bit. They decided to spend the night. I’m spellin’ you so you and Colt can get some shuteye,” Morrie told me.

I turned to Dee and said, “But –”

“Family bar, family’s workin’ it,” Morrie answered even though I spoke to Dee. It was then it hit me that Morrie looked happy, happier than he’d been in ages and Dee did too.

I felt my mouth drop open. Then I felt a happy tingle hit my chest. Then I thought I was going to start crying.

I had a feeling the trial was definitely gone from the trial reconciliation. And more than that, I had a feeling my brother worked a miracle. Because if Dee was coming in then Dee was going to be part of the bar, part of the family and life was going to go the way it should go. With Colt in his seat and in my life and the family running the bar, all of my family.

“Do we have…” I started, scared to say it out loud, like a pin would prick this fragile bubble of a dream if I spoke the words but I took in a breath and then finished, “somethin’ to celebrate?”

I felt Colt’s arm hook me around the waist and he pulled me from the back of the bar saying, “Yeah, honey, it’s ten o’clock and we can be home by ten fifteen if you get your ass in gear. That’s worth celebrating.”

I pulled against Colt’s hold but he kept tugging me toward the office.

“Morrie?” I called.

Morrie looked at me. Then he smiled. It was big, it was more than happy. He had his family back. Then I knew that a heavenly light, for that moment, was shining down on all of us.

“Go home Baby Sister,” he called back.

I smiled back at my big brother then Colt tugged me into the office then I moved my smile to him. He shared my smile as he lifted his hand to touch my jaw and my smile got even bigger, so big, it hurt my face but I couldn’t stop doing it and I didn’t want to.

Then I grabbed my purse, shrugged on my jacket and went home with Colt.

We were home by ten fifteen.

“Alec,” I gasped

“Say it again,” Colt groaned.

“Alec,” I repeated, “harder, baby.”

He gave me what I wanted and he gave it to me harder.

My shoulders were to the wall, my ass in his hands, my legs were wrapped around his hips, the fingers of one of my hands was gripped in his hair, the other hand was locked on his ass. Colt was on his knees and he was fucking me so hard I was certain the Harry’s print was going to come crashing off the wall. And I didn’t care.

“Give me your tit, Feb,” he demanded and I took my hand from his hair, cupped my breast and offered it to him.

Colt drove in deep but bowed his back, his lips latched around my nipple and he sucked in hard. I felt it from my nipple straight down between my legs, the path so sharp and true, I could have drawn the line down my own body.

“Yes,” I breathed.

His mouth released me and he started driving inside me again, his lips moving to mine and my arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“You’re gonna come, baby, I feel it, fuckin’ love it, your pussy’s ready.”

He was so right.

It hit me, I clutched harder at his shoulders and my legs tightened around him in a spasm.

“That’s it,” he growled as the moan ripped from me, my head shot back, slamming against the wall next to the print, making it vibrate.

I was coming down when he hefted me up an inch and rammed in harder and so fucking deep, pulled out and rammed in again, staying put, his face went into my neck and he groaned against my skin.

It was when I felt his tongue tracing my necklaces, something he seemed to do a lot, something which I liked a lot, that I whispered into his hair, “You still owe me.”

His tongue went away but I felt his lips smile against my skin as he started sliding slowly in and out of me. I loved it when he did that too, giving it to me soft after he fucked me hard, staying inside instead of pulling out and moving away. There was something about it, Colt keeping our connection and doing it like that. There was something that I couldn’t put my finger on but, whatever it was, it was beautiful.

“You forget, honey, that first time, I gave it to you with my mouth before I gave it to you with my cock,” his head came up and he looked at me, “we’re even.”

Damn, he was right.

“Whatever,” I muttered and he smiled at me.

“You’ll get my mouth back,” he told me, still sliding in and out.

“When?” I asked.

“Jesus, Feb, you just came.”

“What? I got a quota?”

He started laughing softly before he said, “Yeah, I gotta ration this so you don’t kill me.”

I put my lips to his but kept my eyes open when I whispered, “Beautiful death.”

I watched close up as his smile died and something else came into his eyes the second before he kissed me. Then he pulled out, moved back, taking me with him, and put me in bed. Colt rolled to his back, tucking me into his side. He did an ab curl, pulling the covers over us. Then he reached to the light and turned it out.

One of my arms was trapped under me but my other hand was moving on him, lazy, light, his skin hot, hard, tight. I loved the feel of him. His arm was wrapped around me and he drew patterns on my hip with his fingers. I loved the feel of that too.

I tried not to think about how much of this I missed all those years I locked myself away. How much Denny stole from me, from us. But it was impossible.

Then again, if it had just been Colt and me, we would have had to learn this shit from scratch. I didn’t know how many women he had and I didn’t want to know. I just knew Melanie and Susie and I’d heard about a couple others. Sometimes a woman would come in the bar and her eyes would find him direct and I’d know somewhere that used to be ugly, she’d had him. Sometimes when they came in, his eyes would go to them and that same knowledge would shine through. He’d smile at them, not big, but it was there, or he’d dip his chin, and I knew it didn’t end ugly but he ended it and the woman didn’t want it to end. He was being gentle and gentlemanly, telling her she gave him good memories but keeping her back all the same. I couldn’t say how I knew all this was communicated but, being tied to him the way I was, I knew. I also couldn’t say that happened often, but it happened enough and each time it was like a little dagger tip piercing my skin.

Though I was thinking, he hadn’t had them; I wouldn’t have what he had to give me now.

On the other hand, he could just be a natural at this kind of thing he was so good at it.

“How you feelin’, honey?” Colt murmured and his voice rumbling in my ear, my body pressed against his, my fingertips skimming over his skin, all of that made my current thoughts tumble right away from me.

“Great,” I whispered and those thoughts had fallen so far I realized I was. How I could be this happy about Colt and me and Morrie and Dee and that Mom and Dad were home, even after reading Amy’s note and dealing with all this crap, I’d never know.

But I was.

Colt’s hand flattened on my hip, slid down and his fingers pressed into my ass.

“Best ass in the county,” he muttered and I grinned.

“You do a lotta research into that?” I teased.

“Yep,” he replied, my head came up to look at his shadowed face and he went on. “What can I say? I’m an ass man.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, so I did, but my hand slid up his chest to his neck and when I stopped laughing I asked quietly, “How you doin’, babe?”

I watched the shadow of his head come up slightly from the pillow then it dropped down and he sighed. “I’ve had better days,” his fingers pressed into my ass again before he finished, “not many better nights.”

I bent my head and kissed his collarbone before deciding to change the subject.

“Am I gonna have to brace anytime some asshole from my past walks into the bar and you’re there?”

“Nope,” he said immediately, “think tonight my point was made.”

I stared at him and realized he was right. That bellow of my name, calling attention to us, getting the admission out of Aaron, casting doubt on Stew (good doubt, anyone who thought twice about it, which they probably didn’t decades ago, would feel foolish for ever considering I’d give it to Stew), my and Morrie’s conversation, all of it was perfectly played. Not to mention, Colt and I were back together and as back together as you could get, kissing and sharing Frank’s in the bar, me living with him. Two weeks ago everyone knew Colt wouldn’t get near me and they thought this partially because they thought I’d run around. Truth was, I was always his woman and me running around, even broken up, was viewed as a betrayal (and girls were always looked down on if they had that reputation, earned or not). As ever about anything in a small town, but especially Colt and me, word would fly. Any guy who told their tale was probably going to look like a schmuck.

“You Superman?” I asked softly.

“How’s that?”

“Leap buildings in a single bound, salvage girl’s reputations in a second, that kind of thing?”

He was quiet for awhile before he replied, “I can’t leap buildings in a single bound, but I can make you come so hard you put a hole in my drywall.”

“I didn’t put a whole in your drywall.”

“Glad that’s Plexiglas on the print and I fixed it good, baby, or we’d be lyin’ in a bed of glass.”

“You’re such an asshole,” I said through my smile.

We both fell silent, me now thinking nothing but happy thoughts. I’d find out Colt wasn’t thinking the same.

“You know, there wasn’t a reputation to salvage.”

This comment so surprised me, I lifted up my head and looked at him.

“What?”

“People love you, February.”

I shook my head and settled back down but his hand squeezed my ass and he ordered, “Look at me, Feb.”

“Colt –” I started but stopped when I got another squeeze.

“Baby, look at me.”

I did as I was told.

“I told you about that kid we brought in, Ryan,” Colt said.

Oh shit. I didn’t want to think of all the shit he told me over Frank’s that night, about the new people who Denny duped and sent straight into their own nightmares.

“Colt –”

“He said, watchin’ you, he could tell you were nice. People gravitated to you. He wasn’t wrong, Feb.”

I shook my head and said, “It’s late. Let’s go to sleep.”

Colt rolled into me, obviously not feeling like taking my hint to drop the subject. When he had me on my back and his dark shadow loomed over me, he kept talking.

“People love you.”

“Stop it, Colt, we both know –”

“They do now and they always did.”

“That isn’t true,” I whispered.

“It is.”

“You didn’t feel it,” I told him.

“No, I reckon people were surprised, what went down, maybe disappointed, what they heard, and you felt that, but they never stopped lovin’ you.”

“Colt –”

His hand came to my jaw and tightened. “February, listen to me. You never stopped bein’ you. It mighta been subdued but you were always the girl who looked out for the Angies and Darryls of the world. You were always an Owens, collectin’ strays. You never changed that, no matter what they thought of the other.”

“I don’t think –”

His thumb slid over my lips. “Trust me, Feb. Now, they won’t ever think of the other.”

“That wasn’t necessary,” I said to his thumb and he laughed. It wasn’t with humor, there was a bitter edge to it that pressed against my flesh.

“Not much about the wrongs done us I can put right. That’s one so I did it. Fuckin’ thrilled when that asshole walked in the bar tonight. Meant I didn’t have to delay.”

God, I loved him, always had, always would. I loved him so much, that feeling of fullness started to press against my skin from the inside and there was so much of it, I didn’t think I could hold it all.

I wanted to tell him, I really did. I wanted to share, let him know. But this was new, just as it was old and the idea terrified me.

So instead of I love you, I said, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, honey, I believed it too. That’s part of the wrong I made right tonight, lettin’ people know I was just as much of an asshole believin’ that shit as they were.”

“You aren’t an asshole,” I defended.

“You called me one just five minutes ago,” he teased.

“Oh, right,” I muttered. “I forgot about that,” I told him. “And I was jokin’.”

“I know you were, Feb.” Before I could say anything else, he kissed me then rolled us back so we’d resumed our positions and declared, “Now we can go to sleep.”

“Oh, so now we can go to sleep, now that you’re done talkin’?”

“Well… yeah.”

“I was right.”

“What?”

“Asshole.”

A short laugh, this one was filled with humor.

Then, “Shut up and close your eyes, baby.”

He was totally bossy.

Still, I did as I was told.

Wilson jumped up and curled his body mostly on our tangled feet, only partially on the bed, and I fell asleep.

A phone started ringing; I knew it was mine from the tone. It was my cell that sat next to Colt’s on his nightstand, the one he put there, digging it out of my purse when we got home, preparing, just in case.

It jarred me awake which jarred Wilson awake but by the time I lifted my head to stare at it in sleepy horror, Colt was reaching toward the glaring light of the phone display that seemed to pierce right through the dark like a beacon of doom.

He brought it to his face as I got up on an elbow and he flipped it open and put it to his ear as I held my breath.

“Yeah?” There was a pause while I let out and pulled in just enough breath not to suffocate. “Yeah. She’s right here.”

Then in silence he held the phone out to me.

Knowing it wasn’t who I thought it was because he wouldn’t give it to me if it was; I took it, looked at the display and saw who was on it. My breath went out of me again as I looked at the clock on Colt’s nightstand. It was two in the morning, not unusual for the caller, but not acceptable anymore, though he didn’t know it.

I saw Colt’s shadow move, arm extended toward the light. Then I rolled up and over to sit on my ass, arm holding the covers to my chest as I lifted my knees and pressed my torso to my thighs.

Then I put my phone to my ear, the light went on and I blinked against the brightness as I said, “Hey, Reece.”

There was nothing but silence for awhile and I waited.

Then Reece said, “Expected it to happen eventually, darlin’, but didn’t expect it to hit me that hard the first time I heard a man answer your phone.”

I closed my eyes tight and whispered, “Reece.”

“No promises, beautiful, no expectations, that was the deal. You gave it to me.”

“I know.”

“Now I gotta find a way to give it to you.”

“Reece –”

“Best way to find it right now is knowin’ some jackass is out there carvin’ up folks in your name and it’s good for me to understand you got a man at your side.”

“He’s not carving them up, he’s hacking them with a hatchet.”

There was a smile in Reece’s voice when he replied, “Whatever.”

I felt Colt’s hand hit the small of my back and then I felt his fingers run up the indentation of my spine then back down, the path short, the touch light but it was also steady. I knew it was weird in this situation but it made me feel better.

It helped that Wilson wandered up the bed and curled into a ball at my hip.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Headin’ out tomorrow, goin’ to ground until this guy is found.”

“I’m sorry, Reece.”

“Not your fault, darlin’.”

“Still.”

“Still nothin’. Could use a vacation anyway, haven’t had a real one since we went to Tahoe.”

Tahoe had been great, we went right before I came home and stayed a week. We rode there on the back of his bike and we splurged on a luxury rental. Gambled and rode during the day. Ate until we were stuffed. Fell in bed massively tipsy every night. It was a blast.

I’d seen him since as he used to be mine for those times I needed him. I took a two week vacation the first year I was home, got in my car, told no one where I was going or who I was seeing. I hit a few places where I had friends, including spending two days with Reece in Sedona. Did the same the second year, catching him up in Taos, but that time I stayed four days.

Reece had come to visit me also, spending his time while I was at the bar catching up with friends he had close or visiting the Speedway and doing other tourist crap. He was careful not to infiltrate my life, like showing up at the bar, knowing, without me telling him, that wasn’t his place to be. When he was around I took some time off, not explaining why, and sometimes would go with him and show him around. Nights, if we spent the day apart, he was always there for me. I’d come home and he’d be in my bed. I’d wake him when I hit the bed, or, if he was out, I’d wake him with my hands or my mouth, something he didn’t mind and I suspected he pretended to sleep just to get it.

Those days were over.

“You’ll check in?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Frequently?”

“Yeah, darlin’ but don’t worry about me. It’ll be okay. I can take care of myself and the Feds I talked to seem pretty fuckin’ determined to find this guy.”

“Yeah.”

There was a hesitation before he said in a way I knew he was searching, “I’m guessin’ I shouldn’t call so late next time.”

“Probably not.”

Another moment of silence before he stopped fucking around and asked what he wanted to know but he spoke in a voice that said he wished he didn’t have to say his next words. “Hate to ask, beautiful, but gotta know. Your boy who answered the phone, this mean you’ll not be callin’ in awhile?”

“Reece –” I started then couldn’t say it.

When I stopped talking and said no more, Reece read me. We’d been in and out of each other’s lives for a long time but we talked on the phone relatively frequently. He didn’t know me through and through but he knew me well enough.

“Fuck,” he bit out, “means you’ll not be callin’ at all.”

“Reece.”

“That hit me harder than I expected too.”

“Reece –”

He cut me off. “Fucked up.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Fucked up, I knew I had a good thing, threw it away. Fuck!”

“You didn’t throw it away.”

“How many times I watch you walk away from me, Feb? How many times you watch me?”

“Reece, don’t.”

“Too fuckin’ many. Means I fucked up.”

I pressed my torso deeper into my knees and whispered, “It wasn’t meant to be, honey.”

“I put an ounce of effort in it I coulda made it meant to be.”

I wasn’t certain this was true, not now. Maybe years ago when I met him. He was a good guy and he never fucked me over. He was handsome, he was charming, he was smart. Always honest with me. When I had him, I had all of him. He made me laugh, not like I used to but he did it. He knew I loved the bike and he loved it too and taking me out on it. We fit together, were comfortable, would fall in with each other within seconds of being back. The sex wasn’t great, like with Colt, but it was really good.

Now. No.

But I didn’t tell him that and I didn’t know if that was the right thing to do or the wrong thing.

“Sorry, Feb. You don’t need this shit now, do you, beautiful? What is it, one o’clock?”

“Two.”

“Fuck, sorry darlin’.”

“Don’t be.”

“I’ll call in.”

“Thanks, Reece.”

“Sleep tight, beautiful.”

“Reece?” I called before he disconnected.

“Yeah, Feb?”

“You find another, don’t watch her walk away,” I said.

He laughed and it wasn’t like he usually laughed. It was like Colt’s bitter laughter earlier that night and it also pressed to my flesh like a blade but it broke through and my blood beaded the edge.

Then he said, “Ain’t another like you.”

Then he disconnected. It took me awhile to flip the phone closed and when I did my hand dropped to the mattress and I pressed my cheek to my knee.

I felt the phone slide out of my hand and the bed moving with Colt. I heard my phone hit the nightstand then the light went out. Then his hands were on me, pulling me back, down, tucking me against his side, wrapping his arm around me, holding me close. I draped my arm around his stomach and I held him tight. Wilson settled into the small of my back, knowing with cat knowledge I needed his presence there, his warmth, closer, all for me, not at our feet.

We were silent. There were no words for times like these.

At least I thought there weren’t.

I thought that before Colt said, “What’d I say, baby? I’m the fuckin’ lucky one in this bed, seein’ as he watched you walk away which meant you were free to make your way back to me.”

That’s when I started crying and Colt’s other hand came to my hair, sifting through it, pulling it away from my face then again and again before he curled his fingers around my neck and kept them there. I didn’t know or care if it was cool to cry about another man while in my man’s arms.

Lucky for me, Colt didn’t seem to mind.