Command: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

by Amélie S. Duncan

  He stretched out next to me. “What’s on your heart?” Nate always could read me. And ever since I’d known him, he’d always wanted to know what was on my heart. And right then, I didn’t think I had any choice but to spill my doubts. What he said about himself was true: he was his own man now, so, he needed to hear my thoughts and, hopefully, see the same issues that I saw. “Nate . . . I’m . . . crazy. Seeing you with someone else tore me apart, but I don’t think I’m the right person for you in the long run. You deserve someone who doesn’t surround herself with drama all the time. This drug stuff will go away, and something else will happen. I enjoy us, but I don’t see myself staying here . . .”

  He propped up on his arm and placed his hand on my stomach.

  “Listen to me. I’m not pushing you, Shadow. I know who you are. I only ask you to not deny me time with you. No pressure. Just be with me, baby. You’re here in town, so please, be with me.”

  He kissed me deeply, and I kissed him back. We’d start and start again. Neither one of us wanted to part, but I had to.

  “I’m still returning to my parents’ at least for a little while. With the bone marrow transplant coming up, it’ll be easier to find out what my mom may need.”

  “What bone marrow transplant?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

  “My mom needs bone marrow to help her survive aplastic anemia. I agreed to do it if I’m a match.”

  “God, woman.” He cuddled me close. “You didn’t tell me you’re about to be involved in major surgery.”

  “I may not be a match,” I said. “It’s why my parents wanted me to come home. They cut off my trust instead of asking me to help . . . because I’m selfish.”

  “No, you’re not. You helping your mom doesn’t sound selfish at all. It sounds selfless. If you change your mind and want to stay elsewhere, you can stay here with me.”

  “Come on, Nate. I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

  “I’m offering, and I don’t give a damn who doesn’t like it.”

  He kissed me again, and lying under the stars, we gave each other everything we wanted.

  The next morning, I talked to Maeve.

  “I’m going to go home for a while. My mom needs surgery. She’s barely talking to me, but I should be around there when she does.”

  Maeve came and put her arm around me. “I kind of like having my roommate, but I know that’s not the full story. Aidan struck and opened his big mouth.”

  I dipped my head. “He wasn’t wrong . . .”

  “He knows nothing about your relationship, only the two of you do. I’ve seen the two of you happy together.”

  “But I don’t know if I’m staying in town,” I said.

  She laughed, and I lowered my brows.

  I told her I was moving out and she was in hysterics. “What’s so funny?”

  “The last time I asked you said, ‘I’m not staying.’ Now you don’t know. That’s what I call progress. I’m sorry about your mom. But whatever you decide to do, you have a home here. And right now, you owe me a day watching RE-BIRTH. We finally get to see Gemini mate with The Beast.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You watched the show without me?”

  Maeve grinned and poked my side. “No, but that’s what I’m rooting for.”

  She went into the kitchen and brought out a feast. She didn’t bring up the topic of me leaving for the rest of the night. And for that, I was grateful.

  Nathan

  Shana moved back to her parents’ house the next day. I understood she wanted to help her mom after discovering her illness, however, I still believed part of her reason had to do with what Aidan said. She didn’t want to put herself in the position of making me choose between my time with her and my brother. I understood why Aidan went after her hard. My family’s love gave me life, but they couldn’t choose who I cared for or fell in love with.

  Even if Shana were to break me apart, I’d take the break. I chose her with my eyes wide open, because my life shined bright, and my world lifted with her inside of it. Because real love never came easy.

  The full autopsy results took six weeks. While Bridget had a private ceremony, the community wanted to support her, and the local cathedral scheduled a public funeral. Officer Ambrose called to let me review the report ahead of time.

  The results weren’t exactly what I’d hoped for. Bridget had multiple body entry points for drugs, in her fingers, arms, and between her toes. She had alcohol, heroin, cocaine, ketamine, and ecstasy in her system. The difference between hers and Shana’s toxicology report? Shana had alcohol, marijuana, prescription pain relievers, and ecstasy in her system. A combination of all those drugs could have killed her. Therefore, the prosecution would have a harder time linking the drugs from the package found on Shana to Bridget’s death conclusively. Inconclusive wasn’t complete separation. The drug pack photos showed it had been opened and resealed, however ketamine hadn’t been listed. The content missing included some of what Bridget had used. But they’d need more tests to conclude it was the very same source that killed her. The case more than likely would be closed unless more evidence arose. Even so, Shana would have a hard time handling the inconclusive part.

  On my drive to her parents’ home, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I should’ve been working harder to clear her name. Her short stay in jail had changed her, and I, like everyone else, enjoyed the change. She took well to community service, worked a job she hated, and spent time with me. If the case were thrown out, would she return to her drug use? Or worse, would she disappear?

  She called herself selfish, but she wasn’t alone. I was ashamed of how little I’d done to help clear Shana’s name.

  I went to the house, and she opened the door, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “Did you hear?”

  I pulled her into a hug. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “How can you say that?” she asked hoarsely, stiffening in my arms. “Bridget died, and it will never be okay. Her parents will never know what happened.”

  “They know she died of an overdose—something she caused. Bridget chose to take drugs, and, due to her addiction, she couldn’t stop. That’s not your fault.”

  She broke away and shook her head. “The drugs sold to her could still have come from the package or be linked to another crime. I . . . I wanted the results to set me free. I know that sounds egotistical. Selfish.”

  I clasped her face and made direct eye contact. “You’re not. You didn’t do it, and you want justice like everyone else does.”

  She took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do now.”

  “Keep going. We will find the truth. I promise.” I vowed to commit to doing more myself.

  She stepped back and admired my suit, then went still.

  “Bridget’s public funeral is today, and I want you to come with me,” I said in a gentle tone.

  “I wasn’t invited,” she said.

  “The whole town is invited.”

  She shook her head. “No way could I do that. Pam . . . she blames me. You saw the way she carried on at my bail hearing.”

  “Pam was heartbroken and wanted answers—a reason her daughter’s life ended so soon. The autopsy told her Bridget was lost in her addiction. She overdosed. If you’re to blame, then everyone in the club is to blame for not calling 911. Bottom line, Bridget must share responsibility for her actions.”

  She took a deep breath and tucked her long hair behind her ears. “You make a good case. However, I’m not going. Even if the autopsy absolves me some, I still remind Pam of feeling powerless to find out what happened to her daughter. I’m free after being found with drugs that may have killed her daughter.”

  “You feel responsible and guilty, but the Pam I know would appreciate you going to support her.”

  “Grief changes people. It changed me.”

  I couldn’t argue with that nor continue to push her since I promised I wouldn’t. I hugged her close because she needed comfort and sup
port.

  “Is there a place she’s registered to donate?” she asked me by the car. I gave her the name of Serenity Acres Rehabilitation. Pam had told Maeve about it when she asked. “Please give Pam a hug and tell her I’m sorry.”

  “I will, but I still think you should come.”

  She kissed my lips hard and let me go, waving as I drove off. I still felt unsure where I ranked in her world, and right now, nothing was answered or had supplied the freedom Shana craved. But that I could hold her, kiss her, love her . . . that was enough for now.

  I met up with my family for Bridget’s funeral. Sunnyville turned out for Coach Pam. Thousands filled First Presbyterian for the funeral service, including my parents and their partners, Maeve, and Aidan in his Marine uniform. He came over and placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed; his way of saying we were done fighting. Aidan wouldn’t apologize to Shana, because to him that’d make him a liar. He loves me. I’d always be the baby brother his mom brought home who Aidan showed how to tie a shoe and ride a bike. He never complained once when I stole or broke his toys. We still fought, but Aidan never treated me like I didn’t belong with them. When he and Maeve accepted me, I knew I didn’t have to worry anymore. They made me family. Was that why I tried to make sure other kids had a semblance of that through the group homes?

  Grant Malone stood at the end of a pew, and his mom welcomed us to sit with them for the service. A choir sang Bridget’s favorite hymn, Soft and Tenderly. When it was over, we all walked the six blocks to the cemetery.

  A few local media vans had parked nearby. If the story picked up nationally, there would be more pressure to pin the case, so people could sleep better at night, knowing their loved ones were protected from harm. Their presence meant that Shana wasn’t safe from jail, and we needed to find the person responsible. Quickly. Our detectives should have had something by now. What was the holdup?

  I eyed Stetson and Ambrose at the gravesite. At least Ambrose told me what was going on in the case. Stetson shared only after Ambrose told me. He kept his theories to himself, which meant he probably had another angle to work.

  I knew as an officer, I should have left them to work the case. Inserting myself would only lead to trouble in the future. Yet, I couldn’t let the case end up going the easy route to Shana. I hated feeling powerless. I needed to do more. I’d ask around, and if push came to shove, I’d work the case on my own, starting with some of the people I saw at the funeral—Evan and Skelly, who Shana had mentioned. Amber, too, surrounded by her snooty friends. Brit kept her wedding last week a private affair, but according to Chatty Cathy, Amber went. Did she tell Shana?

  After greeting Pam, it became clear she wasn’t in a state to talk to anyone. She had one of her “Justice for Bridget” buttons pinned to her dress. “Please let us know if you need any help,” I said and placed my hand over hers when she extended it for me to shake.

  Her bottom lip quivered. “Arrest Shana and investigate her family for drug dealing. That’s how you can help.”

  Shana’s innocent, Pam.

  “I won’t upset you anymore by my presence,” I told her as gently as possible.

  Grant echoed my sentiments, as did Grady, but Pam didn’t give them the harsh treatment she gave me.

  Eileen came up and Pam glowered at her. “You have some nerve coming here. You told me the case had leads.”

  Eileen dropped her head, hurrying away from Pam. No one called Pam out for throwing blame around, but I hoped she’d regret how she behaved. Grant caught up to Eileen, and he and Emerson consoled her, as that was a hard lesson for Eileen to learn. As Dad told me before I started, cases were never solved in an hour like television. Never make promises you can’t keep.

  I wanted to tell Pam she was on a losing battle with the drug-dealing angle. Mr. and Mrs. Callahan were involved in every community and executive board in the state. The Callahan family dated back to Sunnyville’s founding. There wasn’t a chance in hell our community leaders would authorize investigating them for drug trafficking.

  Bridget’s death divided our town. The rich rallied around their own. They were now pressuring the precinct for being too harsh with Shana’s “mistake.”

  As I moved toward the exit, I felt eyes on me and let my gaze roam over the hill near the cemetery gate. Shana.

  I watched her standing alone and fought the urge to run to her. She wore a black dress and had flowers in her hands. My heart ached. Funerals were hard for her, especially so close to the anniversary of Jackson’s death. Still, she was here. It took a lot of strength to go where you might feel unwanted. However, I hesitated to warn her not to approach Pam, who was still looking to blame. I hated my role as a cop in bringing her drug charges. Shana said she didn’t blame me. She helped at the group home on her days off, coached baseball, and wanted to give bone marrow to save her mom. She kept fighting. And that was one of the many things that made Shana special. She was all heart.

  I planned to leave, but something made me search for Amber. She hadn’t gone up to Pam or greeted anyone in the Birks family. Why not?

  I walked to the other side of the cemetery, and at the bottom of the hill, she stood with Skelly, leaning against her car, vaping. He must’ve left his Serenity Acres treatment early.

  They came to the funeral, but Bridget wasn’t in their age group or a relation of theirs. Sure, people went to publicized tragedies, but most showed some decorum. Amber and Skelly chatted and laughed between their drags, brushing their hands as they passed the pipe. Personally, I’d never seen them hang out together, and I knew Amber didn’t spend time with people unless they could give her something. Skelly wasn’t rich enough to be her friend. He appeared gangly, and his suit was two sizes too big. He was hardly her type. She could get drugs and smoke with any of her regular friends, so why would she hang with him in public?

  Then again, they wouldn’t be seen together today. Most of us, for convenience, parked in front of the cemetery or in the large parking lot across from it. The neighborhood wasn’t the best in the city, and parking a Tesla over there would have stood out. Still, Amber purposely avoided the main parking lot to park here, away from her crowd. I made a mental note and was about to leave when Evan Jensen approached them. He shoved Skelly in the shoulder and yelled something I couldn’t make out. Amber pushed Evan away. That’s when I noticed his BMW Gran Coupe two spaces up from hers. Amber left too, leaving Skelly to go on foot. What the hell just happened?

  If I played devil’s advocate, it wasn’t out of the norm for new friendships to form. However, it was in Sunnyville. I was grasping at straws, but my gut said I needed to look closer, and that had me using my day off at the police station.

  Once behind my desk, I pulled up Skylar Temple’s record. From Ambrose’s investigation, Skelly was a tech nerd at a start-up. Besides an obsessive number of K-pop stan tweets and anime obsession, his social media posts were sporadic. The business he worked for had recently shut and had a pending investigation for fraud. He’d recently moved out of the condo he rented downtown, making his current address unknown. Had he moved back in with his parents?

  I checked for their address, and they still lived in Sunnyville, so I could go and speak to them. My conscience warned me I couldn’t do much, or I’d jeopardize the case. Most people in town knew me as a cop. I’d only ask about Skelly’s whereabouts, not about the drugs or club.

  I decided to check Evan Jensen out as well but found I had no access to view what was there. He also had something sealed on his file from his teen years. I’d assume that was because Evan’s dad was in politics. No social media, but he could have an assumed name. Truth be told, arrests for the well-connected were complicated, but Ambrose hadn’t removed him from his suspect list. The case was still progressing; I had a chance to push it further, and I would.

  I drove to the address listed for Skelly’s parents. They lived in the poorer section of Sunnyville. The house had peeled siding and a couple of cars in the driveway, letting me know t
hey were home. I went to the door without a plan of what to say.

  An older man appeared, and before I could identify myself as a cop, he said, “Skylar’s not here. He doesn’t live here, and he’s not allowed to come back. Don’t come looking for him here again, or I’ll call the cops.”

  I pulled out my badge. “I’m Nathan Donleavy. I am a cop.”

  “You have a warrant?” he asked.

  I forced a smile. “Do I need one? I just want to know where he lives now, and why he’s not allowed to come back here.”

  The man swiftly closed the door and spoke through the mesh screen. “You do if you want to come inside my home. I threw most of his stuff out, so he doesn’t have anything left here. I don’t know where he lives or about any trouble he’s involved in. Now, please leave me alone.”

  “Has someone been threatening you and your wife?”

  “You police officers just make things worse.”

  “How so?”

  My question put me out of scope and crossed over into other pending cases. It could get me in trouble at work, but I couldn’t stop myself when I thought it might help Shana.

  “Whoever he cheated tries to make us pay. I have a small pension and a little social security. I can’t pay for his drugs, gambling, or whatever scheme he’s up to now.”

  “Who comes around? Can you describe the last person who came to your door looking for Skelly?”

  His eyes shifted from side to side, and he rubbed his neck. “Sorry I can’t help you.”

  He closed the door, and though he hadn’t given me much, my gut told me Skelly had dug himself a very deep hole on the other side of the law. Once I shared what I found with Ambrose and Stetson—and faced their threats on my record for messing with their case—they’d have to investigate. But would it be relevant? Was the trouble Skelly was involved in linked to the payload of drugs found on Shana?