What We Bury

by Carolyn Arnold

  “No? You aren’t? Then you’re telling me I’m crazy?”

  “That’s not my intention.” He clenched his jaw. “I want to find who did this just as badly as you do.”

  She resisted the urge to say, “You could have fooled me.” It would have been a rash, impulsive, and completely unfair reaction. Troy did care—about her and their baby. “Troy,” she started, speaking softly, “what happened to me wasn’t an accident. I know it, and I’m sure you do.”

  “Not denying that,” he countered stiffly.

  “I have no doubt Murphy’s intention was to hurt me, maybe even kill me.”

  His face transformed from concentration to anger and became chiseled granite. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Why? Just answer me that.”

  He was giving her every opportunity to open up, but how would he react? Would he leave her to raise their child on her own? Her chest became heavy. “They almost succeeded in killing me and our baby, Troy.”

  “Murphy, or they, which is it?”

  “I think you know who they are.” She paused as the revelation electrified his green eyes.

  “The Mafia,” he ground out.

  “Yes.”

  Nothing was said for several minutes. Troy sat back and rubbed his jaw.

  “I’m…” She cleared her throat. “I’m looking into them and the corrupt cops of the Stiles PD. They need to be flushed out, Troy. You must see that.”

  Troy just held her gaze.

  “Tell me you do.”

  “You know what I see?” His imposed silence was long enough to drive a stake into her heart.

  The solitaire. Princess cut. She’d never see it on her finger. She was losing him. “What?” The single word barely scraped from her throat.

  “I see a woman who is obsessed—” He quickly held up his hand to keep her from saying anything. “I see a woman who is willing to risk everything, including her own life, to purify the city and the department. You know what else?”

  “No.” She was afraid to talk for fear her voice would be laden with emotion, including anger.

  “I see a woman who is foolish.” He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed off his chair.

  Hershey got off the couch and curled up on his bed in the corner of the room.

  “How dare you!” She choked on a sob.

  “Why can’t you just leave them the hell alone? What’s with the obsession? Is bringing them down worth dying over? I get your drive—”

  “You obviously don’t.” She panted for breath despite the pain. Rage and heartbreak were fighting for dominance. “And I didn’t know I was pregnant.”

  “Why can’t you understand that I’d be ruined if something happened to you?” He snapped his mouth shut and turned away.

  “So I’m just supposed to look away and let the bad guys win?”

  “I’ve gotta…” He raked a hand through his hair.

  She recalled his reaction to the pregnancy, how happy he’d been, how celebratory. “Troy?” she squeaked out. She’d gone and given her heart to this man, and now she had to pay for that vulnerability. “Is that it, then? Are we…done?”

  His eyes steeled over. “I just need time to think.”

  “I found the ring,” she blurted out.

  His gaze was fierce when it aligned with hers. “You what?”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

  Hershey got up from his bed and left the room.

  “You were going to propose to me at Cynthia’s wedding, weren’t you?” She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, but she had to know if she was losing her mind, her ability to read people, her instinct.

  He didn’t respond, and seconds later, she looked over at him. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw tight.

  “Troy, please, talk to me.”

  “So you want me to talk to you, but you’re obviously keeping secrets and running around behind my back.” He clenched his teeth, his nostrils flaring.

  “To protect you.”

  “I don’t need your protection. When are you going to accept that? Fuck, I’m a SWAT team leader.”

  “A bullet would still take you down.”

  “What might take me down is being made a target in the first place.” He grabbed his coat from the front closet and slammed the door on his way out.

  She couldn’t get herself to respond, even to open her mouth. She was paralyzed from the throat up. All she could think was she’d lost the man she loved because of her tenacity and need to right wrongs. Maybe she’d be better off if she could just let the mob be someone else’s problem. But that wasn’t who she was. It wasn’t even normally who Troy was, and one of the qualities she admired about him the most was that he didn’t back down. She’d always seen him as strong and impenetrable. He had to be acting like this because of the baby.

  -

  Forty-Eight

  Madison had taken the department laptop to bed after Troy left, skipping the casserole because she wasn’t even hungry. Last time she looked at the time, it was two in the morning, and Troy still hadn’t returned home. She shuffled through the surveillance photos Carson had taken of Elliott, not that it seemed she knew his real name. Madison had read all her research, and the name Jake Elliott hadn’t surfaced once.

  Most of the photos were at a distance. She’d wager they were taken with Carson’s phone given the fuzziness of some of the zoomed-in shots. Madison’s phone was much better taking one-ratio pictures then enlarging and cropping compared to magnifying and then clicking the shutter button.

  Another thing she noticed was quite a few of them were taken outside the same brownstone. Unfortunately, the street number wasn’t in focus, and she didn’t think that Cynthia could work her magic on what was there. That’s even if Cynthia was speaking to her. Maybe she’d finagle things so Terry could ask.

  In some pictures, it looked like Elliott was looking straight into the camera lens, as if he saw Carson. Surely he had to know she was tailing him. Waiting outside Luck of the Irish, for one thing.

  As she stirred awake, all of this felt like a dream more than something that had taken place. But she smelled bacon. Maybe she was still dreaming. Troy didn’t cook or eat bacon.

  She looked beside her, and the bed was empty, but the pulled-down comforter and ruffled sheets confirmed they’d been slept in. At least Troy had come home last night. Still, there was an ache in her chest, like something had broken between them.

  The bedroom door slowly opened, and Troy entered holding a tray of food. “You’re awake. Good.” He advanced on the bed, and she shuffled into a seated position. He pulled out the legs on the tray and set it over her lap. She never even knew they had one of these things.

  She wasn’t much in the mood to talk to him just yet, but him bringing her breakfast in bed was a smart move.

  He sat on the edge of the mattress. “I’m so sorry about last night.” He peered into her eyes, and his apology sliced her open.

  “You really hurt me.” And pissed me off!

  “I know, and I’m mad at myself for that. I never wanted to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. I love you, Madison.” He placed a gentle hand on her cheek.

  “Why did you…” She couldn’t bring herself to speak the word leave. Something about saying it out loud would make what had transpired between them last night more real. As it was, the persistent hurt in her heart told her it had happened.

  “I was upset.”

  “Yeah, well, guys act like absolute assholes when they’re upset.”

  He laughed and gestured to the spread of food on the tray. “Hopefully, that will help make up for my asshole behavior.”

  Bacon and scrambled eggs, a couple small pancakes drenched in syrup, a few strawberries, a glass of orange juice, and a coffee. She pointed to the latter. “Decaf?”

&
nbsp; “You know it.”

  “Where did you get the bacon?”

  “I picked it up at a twenty-four-hour grocery store on my way home last night. Along with pretty much everything else you see.”

  “For me? To make up for your asshole behavior?” She was probably having a little too much fun with this.

  “Yes.” A few beats passed, and he continued. “Enjoy your breakfast while it’s hot, and then we’ll talk. Okay?” He touched the hair at her temple, his fingertips grazing the area for the briefest of moments before he got up.

  “Oh, please stay.” Her invitation was impulsive.

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” He sat back down. “But eat up.”

  She went for the coffee first and took a sip. “You know this stuff really isn’t that bad. I might even be able to fool myself into thinking it’s the real deal.”

  “Until you nod off in the middle of the afternoon.”

  “Thanks for pointing that out.” She shoved him gently in the shoulder. “Speaking of nodding off in the afternoon, what time did you get up? What time is it now?” He blocked her view of the alarm clock. She took a bite of bacon. He’d cooked it to perfection—crispy, but it didn’t shatter into bits when chewed.

  “I was up at six. Slept like crap.”

  “I didn’t sleep well either.” She polished off the first slice and lifted her fork and dug into the eggs.

  “Not that one could tell given your snoring.”

  “Hey!” She swallowed her mouthful. “I don’t snore.”

  He laughed. “Oh, yes you do.”

  “Whatever. I’d like proof.” She made a show of rolling her eyes but smiled. They met each other’s eyes, and it was clear to Madison there was still love between them, but last night had hurt them both. “So the time is…”

  “Ten thirty.”

  “Ten thirty! I haven’t slept that late for—I can’t remember how long.”

  “And how does it feel?”

  “Like I’m a lazy toad.” She laughed, then reeled back. Blasted ribs.

  “Well, you’ve been through a lot this week and need your rest.” He put a hand on her thigh, his touch not evoking thoughts of sleeping. She put her right hand over his, and they held that position as she ate every bite of what he’d prepared.

  She set her fork down and burped. “Excuse me.”

  He laughed. “Someone was hungry.”

  “Very.” She was going to jest she was eating for two now, but it would be blaming the baby, and it was far too young to be responsible for an increased appetite. “I just realized that my stomach’s feeling pretty okay this morning.”

  “That’s good, considering.” He indicated her empty plate and cleared the tray so she could get out of bed. “The bacon will probably help.”

  “How?”

  “Fatty foods sometimes sit well on an upset stomach.”

  Unless it’s a greasy burger.

  She got out of bed and was going to just wrap a robe around herself and go to the living room, but decided she’d rather get dressed for the day, even if it was putting off the conversation Troy obviously wanted to have with her. He’d brought her breakfast in bed, but was that a sign that he’d come around to her point of view or a way of buttering her up so she could see his?

  “I’m just going to have a shower and get human,” she said. “Then I’ll be out.”

  “Okay.” He pecked a kiss on her forehead and left the room ahead of her.

  She stopped to pick up her cell phone off her nightstand. Terry had texted a message last night at eight thirty. She hadn’t heard it come in because she’d silenced her phone. She was so angry at Troy for leaving, but she didn’t trust herself to ignore him if he called. As it turned out, he hadn’t.

  She read Terry’s message now.

  Interviewed all pub employees. No one saw anything. No murder weapon found or purse. And dumpster out back emptied on Mondays. Cyn will review video closer. Looking into Carson/knife. Lipstick and scrap of fabric found. Will compare to Carson

  She fired back a quick, Thanks for the update, and headed down the hall.

  She ran a shower, turning the faucet to as hot as her flesh could stand, and stood under the stream. The ache in her chest was still there, but it had dulled. Now it was more like a scar, a reminder that she’d been wounded, that she was vulnerable, that she was not invincible. She closed her eyes and let the water pour over her face and down her body. She heard the hooks on the shower curtain sliding along the bar and turned to see Troy stepping in behind her.

  “I’m so sorry, Madison. I really am.” He closed the distance between them.

  They put their foreheads together, but it wasn’t long before their mouths met, their tongues darting and hungry. Hands searching, cupping, kneading, caressing. Panting and gasping.

  -

  Forty-Nine

  Making love to Troy had been long overdue. Madison sat on the couch afterward, feeling euphoric, and cuddled with Hershey. Her bruised ribs and tender stomach were far from her mind.

  “Want anything?” Troy called from the kitchen.

  “Actually, I’d love another one of those decaf coffees.”

  “You got it.”

  He joined her a few minutes later, shooing Hershey off the couch and sitting next to her. He handed her the coffee, and she thanked him.

  There was a wave of anxiousness that lapped over her, just anticipating the conversation to come.

  Troy blew out a deep breath, his cheeks swelling like a chipmunk’s stuffed with peanuts, then deflating. “I left last night because I just needed to think everything through.”

  She was afraid to really probe what everything was. “We can’t just walk out when we want to think, Troy. We’re a couple. We should work things out together.”

  “I know. I was wrong. Hence breakfast in bed…” He smiled in his typical fashion that barely curved his lips. “This is hard to say, but sometimes it feels like…” He met her eyes and seemed hesitant to continue.

  “Feels like?” she prompted.

  “You’ve been intent on bringing down the Russians for so long, and now on taking out corrupt cops, that I feel…I don’t know, second place.”

  His words chipped at her heart. “Never,” she said, but she was deceiving herself. That’s exactly where she’d been placing him—if not in third place. Her job, her side mission, then Troy. She inched along the cushions and tucked herself close to him.

  “It’s just how it feels sometimes.”

  “I’m sorry for that.”

  He dipped his head, accepting her apology. “I don’t like feeling second.”

  “No one would.”

  “I do know why you’re—I don’t want to say obsessed again—but why you’re determined to clean up Stiles, the city and the police department. It’s who you are, and I’d never want you to change. It’s just…now you’re carrying our baby.”

  “Trust me. I’m aware.”

  He took her hand. “I never actually asked you how you feel about us having a kid.”

  She could tell he was still excited, and she wished she could say the same, but if they were being honest with each other… “I’m adjusting.”

  “I know being a mother’s not really where you saw yourself.”

  She shook her head and put a hand on her stomach. “I’m sure I’ll love the child, Troy. I just need to get used to the idea of becoming a mother.”

  He nodded. “I can appreciate that. Came as a shock to me, too, but I think we’re ready for this.”

  She bit her bottom lip, thinking, Ready for a baby but not marriage?

  “And just for the record,” he started, “I’m still angry, but not at you. At the Russians and Murphy for ramming your car.”

  She shifted straighter. “You believe me now?”


  He sighed. “Maybe I did from the start? I just didn’t want to. He’s a fellow officer, and he stood up for Cynthia’s husband at the wedding.”

  “Again, I’m well aware.” She filled him on the confrontation she’d had with her best friend. “It’s killing me that she’s mad at me, but I get her side too.”

  “It will probably take some hard proof, but she’ll come around. In the end, Cynthia’s a good person.”

  “She is.”

  “If you’re going to continue to pursue this—” he rolled his hand as if to summon the right word “—operation of yours, can we do it together?”

  She scanned his face and pulled back. “I don’t want you involved. They almost killed me.”

  “And our baby,” he fired back. “Probably why I reacted so strongly yesterday. I trust that you can handle yourself, Madison, though I still fear for your safety, but our baby makes me need to get involved. Not just for what they did to you, but the mob and the corrupt cops need to be exposed. I’m prepared to stand by you, but I want to do this by the book. Legit. We bring in Andrea.”

  There was some relief that would come from working with him. She’d have someone watching her back. It still didn’t change the fact she was pregnant—not that she needed to be put in bubble wrap, but she had to think of the baby’s welfare. “Maybe we step back before something happens that can’t be reversed,” she started. “Murphy didn’t know I was pregnant.”

  “If he did this to protect himself, do you think he’d have cared if he had known?” There was a level of conviction in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

  “Probably not,” she said solemnly. “What you’re saying is…you’re in whether I am or not?”

  “Yeah. In the least they need to answer for the hit-and-run.”

  She held his gaze and blinked slowly. “Okay, then let’s do this.” She proceeded to fill him in about Club Sophisticated, her stakeout, and the storage unit. With every new tidbit, his eyes widened, and his brows raised.

  “You’re like a female James Bond.”

  “I just want to end this.”