“Have you ever handled a rape case before?” he asked me, his eyes going over every inch of my face. I couldn’t read his expression, I couldn’t read the meaning behind his heavy eyes.
When I didn’t answer, he shook his head. “I didn’t think so,” he said. “You’re out of your element, Chalmers. Go home before you completely botch my case.”
I clenched my jaw. There were so many things I wanted to tell him, so many things I wanted to scream. Instead, I kept them all bottled up inside and left. I managed to make it through the station without crying. Somehow, though, my chest ached and breathing became more difficult.
Regardless, I would not let Beech get the better of me. I would solve this without the rape kit, without the report, and without him.
Chapter 11
The second I got to my office, I slammed the door shut. I wanted to scream. Beech was being such a pain in the ass. I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging at the roots. The pain was enough to remind me that Beech was not obligated to help me with my investigation. I shouldn’t be taking his actions personally. He was only doing his job.
And I had to do mine.
I released my grip on my hair and let out a breath. I dropped my purse by my desk before plopping into my chair. I would have to continue my investigation without the rape kit.
“Fair enough,” I muttered to myself, flipping open my planner. “You’ve solved cases with less.”
What I didn’t understand was why I was letting Beech get to me this way in the first place. I shouldn’t care. What he thought of me didn’t matter. I didn’t consider him a friend and I didn’t think colleague was accurate either, considering we didn’t technically work together.
I grabbed a pen and started tapping the surface of my desk. I didn’t know how, but using a pen and taking my aggression on my desk was making me feel better.
“Whoa, what did that desk do to deserve the beating you’re giving it?”
I looked up, surprised to see Eric standing in front of me with a gentle smile. I pressed my lips together and immediately stopped the tapping.
“Oh.” I was embarrassed that I had been so consumed in my anger that I didn’t hear Eric come in. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He stepped forward. “Can I sit?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” I shook my head, trying to get rid of all thoughts of Beech. He was distracting me in a way that wasn’t helping. “How are you doing?”
He shrugged his shoulders, leaning in the chair and shifting his lower body until he got to a place where he was more comfortable. I made a note to upgrade my client’s chairs when I had the opportunity.
“As good as I can, I guess,” he said. “I’m lucky your dad has such faith in me.” He gave me a secret smile that seemed to imply we shared a secret. The only problem was I didn’t know the secret and he seemed to think I did. “I should say, I’m lucky he has such faith in you.”
“Hmm.” I forced a smile. Things were awkward between us, but I didn’t know why. I hated it. Part of me longed to go back to the way things were when we were together, where I knew him like the back of my hand, where he was my entire life. The other part of me wished things were back to just recently, when I wasn’t involved in his life at all and he wasn’t going to drop into my office unexpectedly. I wasn’t sure which part of me I gravitated towards. I just knew I didn’t like where I was currently.
He stood up, arms outstretched. “Look,” he said, “I feel like there’s something weird between us, something not like us. Something heavy and awkward and I don’t know why there is.”
I looked away. I fixed the small framed picture of me and my mom when I graduated college with honors. I didn’t know what to say to that.
“I know that face,” he said. He sat down in the chair across from me again. “You’re trying to figure out how to tell me bad news, right? Am I going to like what you’re about to say?”
I hated when he did this. I hated when he brought up our past and how much he remembered from it. I hated how easy it was for him to talk about our past, like it was nothing. Like it hadn’t been important to him and still didn’t affect him the way it affected me to this day – which I absolutely hated. It had been years and I was stuck. For whatever reason. I couldn’t seem to move on and instead taking steps to actually doing something about it, I ignored it. I pushed it down until I was distracted enough to forget about it.
And it would come back at the most inopportune times. Like now, when I was facing him.
“I still don’t know if I believe you’re innocent or not,” I finally told him, forcing myself to lock eyes with him. I hated the way he stared at me. It was like he could see straight through me, like he still seemed to know me better than I knew myself. But I would not allow myself to look anywhere else. I would not be afraid to show him this new me, to remind him that maybe he knew me at one point, but he didn’t know me anymore.
“Meeks –“
“I’m not trying to be difficult and I’m not trying to be a bitch.” I hated that I had to clarify the last part but I did. I rubbed my thighs with my palms, hoping to rid myself of the sweat that accumulated from them. It was almost embarrassing how much there was. “I followed her today. Ashley Dunham. Care to tell me why she would show up at the rink?”
“Five Point?” Eric seemed confused. I wondered if it was genuine. Eric had always been a good liar but I had always had the ability to tell when he was doing just that. Because there had been a couple of years between us now, I was unable to figure out if he was being genuine or if he had gotten better at lying.
I nodded in response to his question.
“Why would I – I have no idea.”
I clenched my jaw, looked down at my lap. “Where were you today?” I asked, my voice softer than I wanted it to be.
From my peripheral, I saw him shift in his chair.
“Why does this feel like it’s more of an interrogation than a friendly chat?” he asked.
I clenched my teeth and looked away. “I told you, I wasn’t going to be defending you,” I said. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. It was too easy to get lost in his eyes. I didn’t even want to risk it. “My job isn’t to prove your innocence, it’s to find the truth. And finding the truth means asking hard questions. And, since your job is to prove your innocence, your job is to answer those questions honestly.”
He looked away and shifted his weight again. I recognized the look on his face. He was debating whether or not to tell me. I didn’t remember Eric ever lying to me. There were times when he would purposefully not tell me things, but he never outright lied. But when he debated whether he would answer one of my questions or not, his face would always scrunch up, his eyes would always narrow, and he would drum his fingers on the table, the steering wheel, the arm of the chair, or wherever he was at the time.
“So?” I pushed. “Where were you?”
“I was at home,” he snapped.
“Can anyone confirm that?”
“Of course not.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
I raised my brow. “Why were you home alone?”
He gave me a look, spreading his arms out. “What?” he asked. “Why do you think, Mika. Have you heard? I’m a rapist. The press is eating that up. They’re camped out on my lawn right now. I managed to sneak out without them noticing. I can’t really do anything except stay at home alone. No one wants to come over. No one wants to deal with them. Besides practice and team obligations, I have no other reason to go out.”
I released a breath, looking down at my hands. I should have expected that but I didn’t. I expected to feel guilty but I didn’t. This was part of my job and I wouldn’t let myself be moved to treat him like he was anyone but a client.
Because, at the end of the day, despite our history, despite these lingering feelings that had been hiding and were now smacking me in the face whenever Eric Foresburg was around, that was all he was.
“Okay,” I
said, picking my eyes up to look at him.
“Okay? Okay? What does that mean?” He stood up abruptly from his chair and began to pace up and down my office. “I came here to see if anything had changed, if you have some sort of update that might actually help me, Mika. I’m grateful, again, for your dad because I’ve heard whispers that management wants me suspended until this is all sorted out. I don’t know what I can do anymore at this point. I’m a prisoner in my own home and the one person I reached out to, the one person I think can actually help me, is asking me questions like they think I’m guilty as well.”
I frowned. “Stop it,” I said. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop trying to make me feel guilty when I’m just trying to do my job.”
He opened his mouth, as though he was ready to argue some more, but stopped himself. I was grateful. I didn’t want to argue. If anything, that was the last thing I wanted.
“Do you think I did it?” Eric asked. His palms were on his thighs and he was leaning over, his eyes so blue and so intent. It was like nothing else in the world mattered to him except hearing my response to his question. As though everything hinged on this answer.
“I-I don’t know.”
He flinched, sitting back like he had been shot. “How can you say that?” he asked, his voice breaking.
I wanted to cry. I had only heard him sound like that one other time – when we were breaking up. And it gutted me. It made him sound broken. This big, intimidating, successful hockey player was vulnerable and sad, and it just didn’t resonate well with me.
“You know me. You know I would –“
“I thought I knew you.” My bottom lip trembled and I tried so hard to keep it from doing so, but I didn’t know how. “I thought we were going to be together forever. I thought you were the sort of guy who wanted to settle down. I thought I was special to you.”
“You were!” he exclaimed, standing up and walking over to me. He placed both hands on my desk, towering over me. “You are! Don’t you see that?”
“Then why -?” I stopped myself before I could finish that sentence. I refused to care one way or another why we broke up. I would not bring my baggage into an investigation he hired me to do.
His unflinching eyes never left mine. I knew, deep down, he knew what I was going to ask. Instead of goading me into doing just that, he waited.
I clenched my jaw. It was as though we were in a battle of wills, and there could only be one winner.
At that moment, my door swung open and Beech walked in with two police officers. He stopped when he saw me and Eric engaged in a staring contest, a look of confusion touching his chiseled face.
“You okay?” he asked me. As though he hadn’t insulted me hours ago.
I gave him a quick nod. “What do you want?” I snapped.
“Eric Foresburg?” he asked, turning his attention to Eric. “Your assistant told us where we could find you. I’m placing you under arrest for the rape of Ashley Dunham. If…”
I blocked out the Miranda rights as I watched Beech handcuff Eric. The entire time he was here, even as Beech led him away from me and out of my office, Eric’s eyes never left mine.
Chapter 12
The first thing I did after watching Beech pull out the cuffs was call Eric’s lawyer. From there, I called a bondsman. Eric had more than enough money to be released. Granted, I wasn’t sure the judge would release him based on the violence of the crime once he stood trial, but I could always hope.
I still didn’t know if Eric was a rapist. What I did know was that Beech was arresting Eric because of pressure. He had shit evidence and he knew it. I was infuriated because I expected better from him.
I followed Beech back to the station. I knew I wasn’t allowed to be there when he was booked, but I could wait until the bondsman came and he was released. Unless, of course, they decided to transport him to Orange County Jail where he would be booked there as well. Irvine never held arrestees unless they were drunks who needed to sleep off their alcohol. Instead, Irvine fed them to OCJ, where they would either be held until their court date or bailed out.
My gut said Eric would be transported to OCJ and when Beech came outside to meet me in the parking lot, my gut feeling was confirmed.
I pulled out my cell and relayed the information to both Eric’s lawyer and the bondsman. I planned to head in my car and go to OCJ myself so once Eric did bail out, I could take him home and he wouldn’t have to worry about calling for a ride.
“What are you doing, Chalmers?”
Beech’s unexpected question stopped me. His dark eyes were narrowed, but instead of a jagged hardness I expected, there was genuine curiosity. Maybe even disappointment. I didn’t like the way that look made me feel inside so I looked away, forcing myself to get angry. Forcing myself to remember that Beech sold out.
“I should ask you the same question,” I snapped. I kicked at the concrete. A couple of rocks hit the sidewalk.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” For whatever reason, he seemed upset by my question.
I turned to look at him, wondering why that would bother him. It wasn’t as though he cared about what I thought of him. If he had, he certainly wouldn’t have arrested Eric in my office the way he had.
“Why did you arrest Eric?” I asked. A couple of bikers brushed past us, heading to the bike trail just behind the station. I ignored them, keeping my focus on Beech. “You don’t have anything on him.”
“I have a compelling statement –“
“He said, she said, at best!”
“- and a rape kit.”
I clenched my jaw. “The rape kit,” I said, taking a step towards him. The last thing I needed was anyone to overhear our conversation. Because the PD was adjacent to the city building, there were people around that weren’t privy to police business. “Tell me, what was the date of the kit.”
“Mika.” Beech pinched the bridge of his nose.
My eyes widened. Rarely did he ever address me by my full name.
“Beech.” I couldn’t bring myself to say his first name. He looked away. I wasn’t sure if he was upset with me fighting him so much or if it was because I didn’t address him as Alex. “Please.”
“Why do you care so much?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You typically don’t care this way. You care about the job, sure. But this is more than I’ve seen you care at all. This is… personal for you. Why?” He narrowed his eyes at me.
“Are you accusing me of something?” I asked. I shifted my weight, avoiding his eyes. I thought back to my encounter with Eric in my office, just before he was arrested, and how I avoided his eyes because I wasn’t sure if he still knew me the way he used to know me. Now, I avoided Beech because I knew he knew me. We spent too much time together not to pick up on our tics and nuances.
“Not accusing.” His voice wasn’t sharp. There was no edge to it. If anything, it reminded me of his interrogation voice, the one he used when he was good cop and trying to get a suspect to open up to him. Typically, females broke down when he spoke to them this way. His voice took on a silky quality that rendered most to their knees. I couldn’t help but be affected by it even though I told myself I wasn’t. “I just don’t understand. And I want you to help me do that.”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” I snapped. I lashed out like a teenage girl. Inside, my stomach churned with guilt and I swallowed, hoping my voice didn’t come out garbled or sad. The last thing I wanted was to show any kind of emotion in front of him. The last thing I wanted was for him to regard me as weak. Because as much as I told myself I didn’t care what he thought of me, I did.
“Where is this hostility coming from?” he demanded, dropping his hands and getting defensive.
“Are you kidding?” I flared my nostrils, my annoyance at him flaring into full-blown anger. “Have you forgotten how you’ve been treating me ever since you got this case?”
“Well, quite frankly, Chalmers, this case is none of your
business.” His words had an edge to him now, as though he knew his seductive voice wouldn’t work on me so he had given up on it completely. Now, I was the perp who he had no patience for, who was, in his eyes, completely hopeless. “And it pisses me off that you’re involved at all.”
“What?” I was proud of myself for keeping my voice low and not shrieking like a cat drenched with water.
“You heard me.” His foot started to tap against the pavement. More bikers flew past us. “Why is your father involving you in this?”
“He wants Eric cleared.” I thought that was obvious. If it had been, why was he asking. And why was he looking at me like I was a piece of the evidence, some code he was trying to decipher that would unlock a huge piece of the puzzle.
“There’s that name again.” Beech took a step back and faced the river trail. His hands were in his slack pockets. “Eric. Why do you call him that? Even if you’re a fan of the team, don’t people refer to players by their last names and not their first. Do you know Eric personally?”
“Why does that matter?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest protectively.
“Don’t be naïve, Chalmers.” He glanced at me. Even behind his black shades, I could feel his eyes scanning me, studying me, trying to figure me out. “You know why it’s important. If you aren’t completely unbiased with your case –“
“Now you’re telling me how to do my job?” I scoffed, taking a step back. I nearly crashed into a biker who swore at me, swerving out of the way just in time. Under any other circumstances, I would have flipped him off. Because I was so consumed by what I thought was an unnecessary conversation with Beech, I barely even acknowledged the biker. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Ice Breakers Page 7
