Bad Medicine

by Caroline Fardig

  Now I know why Brody didn’t want to talk about his brother last night, other than wanting to keep the truth from me. His brother died of a drug overdose. With Brody being in vice, he fought daily against the very thing that ended up killing his own brother. I’m sure that was a karmic kick in the nuts for him. I understand now why Brody played his cards so close to his chest—this is personal for him.

  Not that I’m forgiving him for using me and lying to me, but it’s a little easier to stomach now that I understand why. If I were Brody and I thought someone had murdered my brother, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to catch his killer and make him (or her) pay. I would use and lie to my own mother, much less some random girl I just met. Unfortunately for me, I’m the random girl who got caught in the crossfire. I only wish Brody hadn’t been so damned good at making me like him.

  Julia appears next to me, holding a bag from the Cherry Street Café. “I have lunch! Let’s eat, chickie.”

  I follow her to the break room, not feeling so hungry, but I’m not about to tell her that after she bought my lunch and offered to stay in the office with my pathetic ass. Julia got me my favorite salad and got herself a sandwich and, not surprisingly, potato chips and chocolate cake. While we sit and eat, and she tells me all about her last prenatal appointment, then launches into a dissertation about cloth diapers versus disposable diapers. She’s very careful not to mention Brody, Lydia, or dead bodies, and I don’t mind talking about shit as long as it doesn’t involve my shitty life.

  In mid-sentence about something called a “blowout”, Julia glances behind me and hops up suddenly, saying, “I have to go…um, check my email.”

  “You forgot your cake,” I call as she’s hurrying from the room. Wait a minute. Pregnant ladies never forget their dessert. Something fishy is going on here.

  I whip my head around and find Brody standing in the doorframe. Fan-freaking-tastic. Here comes Round Two.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Turning my back on Brody and returning my attention to my lunch, I ask, “Can I help you, detective?”

  He shuts the door and sits down next to me, taking both of my hands in his. I try to jerk them away, but he holds them firmly. “Here’s the truth. You may not like all of it, but I’m going to tell you everything.”

  I have a feeling that my ego may be in for a bashing, so he might as well do it now while I’m still a little numb.

  He begins, “Yes, I believe that Lydia killed my brother, Rob. I started looking through her background and learned about her husband’s death. I kept digging and found out about her stepmother. I trailed her for a while down in Hawthorne Grove, but I couldn’t be very thorough and still do my job, which was being a vice cop in downtown Nashville. All of a sudden, she packed up and moved here. I got lucky and was able to get Sanchez’s old job and follow her. I guess I have you to thank for that, right?” He smiles at me hopefully.

  “That’s not funny.”

  His face falls. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry. Anyway, Lydia had completely gone dormant, or so I thought, after she moved here. You can’t imagine how excited I was when you came into the station and could link Lydia to two deaths that had just occurred.”

  “You certainly didn’t show your excitement. You said I had a reputation for meddling and threatened me to stay out of your investigation.”

  He hesitates. “Yeah, this is the part you’re not going to like. I’d heard you like to poke your nose into police business, especially when you’re told not to. So, I used a little reverse psychology on you.”

  I close my eyes and pull my hands away from his. This time he doesn’t resist. I murmur, “It worked. Well played.”

  “And I’m sorry for that, but I thought I’d hit a dead end. All I had on her was my gut feeling and a lot of coincidences. So, I figured you would be a fresh pair of eyes for me. I followed you, and damned if you didn’t break into her office a couple of hours later. I was ecstatic.” He’s smiling again. I wish he would do the cop face thing instead. It’s easier to be mad at.

  “So you wanted me to break into her office?”

  “Well, I certainly couldn’t have done it.”

  “If you were so happy about it, why did you arrest me?”

  He hangs his head. “I wanted to confiscate what you found. I was never going to hold you for it. When Lydia showed up there, I nearly had a heart attack. It wasn’t part of the plan for her to find out you broke in.”

  “You scared the shit out of me for nothing?”

  “You did break into a building,” he points out.

  I put my elbows on the table and prop my chin up on my hands. “Just go on,” I say wearily.

  “After that, it was like you were my good luck charm. We happened upon Lydia at Vibe, and that was the first time I was able to follow her when I actually had a shot at catching her in the act. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a bust, but being with you that night was the most fun I’d had since before Rob died.”

  He seems sincere, but I still feel used. I mean, literally, he’s even admitting that he used me. Most guys wouldn’t do that. Regardless of his apology, my hurt isn’t magically going to go away.

  “When you made the connection between Lydia and Hawthorne Grove, and connected her to two men who had died down there around the time my brother did, you blew my mind. I had thought you were beautiful since the moment I saw you, but I had no idea you were so brilliant.”

  Okay, so maybe this conversation isn’t turning out to be such a blow to my ego, but he’s still getting nowhere with me. We’re through.

  He takes my hands again. “I didn’t intend to fall for you.”

  I shake my head and warn, “Don’t.”

  “It’s true. Everything happened so fast, I panicked and didn’t know how to tell you what I’d been keeping from you, so I…didn’t.”

  His gorgeous blue eyes are pleading, but I take my hands back from him. “Shoulda, woulda, coulda, pal. Now it’s too late.”

  Brody sighs. “It doesn’t have to be. Will you forgive me?”

  “Forgive you? Yes. I realize what you did was for a good cause, but you have to understand, no one uses me. For any reason. It’s a deal-breaker,” I state firmly.

  “So you forgive me, but you’re still going to throw our relationship away over this.” He’s starting to get pissed. Well, too bad!

  “Manipulation and deceit don’t exactly make a solid foundation for a relationship.”

  “You’re running away.”

  “Damn right I am. And I’m doing it before I get hurt again.” Whoa. That’s weird. I think that’s what Blake said to me a few days ago. Karma has been busy this week, and now she’s turned her wrath on me. Brody did to me what I did to Blake. Shit. This really sucks. Now I feel bad for myself and even worse for Blake. Maybe I should apologize to him again.

  Brody’s jaw is in a clenching frenzy. “You’re making a mistake, and I’m going to prove it to you.”

  He gets up to leave, and I say over my shoulder, “Knock yourself out.” I sigh, boxing up my half-eaten salad and hurling it at the trash can. When will I EVER have a normal relationship?!?

  Dragging myself back out to my desk, I get to work. It’s after noon and I haven’t done a single bit of my actual work yet today. I’m going to have to be a speed demon this afternoon.

  I buckle down and proof several articles before my mind starts wandering. Surprisingly, it wanders to Blake. I realize I haven’t seen him since he finished getting my statement for his article. He’s not at his desk, so he must have gone somewhere to do an interview. When he does come back, I’m going to apologize like there’s no tomorrow. I feel like such a turd about keeping secrets now that it’s happened to me.

  I spend the next hour doing my copyediting, starting to feel a little like my old self again. You won’t hear me complaining about boring articles today. Bring on the snoozefest—I welcome it.

  Finally, Blake gets back, and the first thing he does is come over and take a se
at on my desk. I can’t help but feel a little twinge of contentment that our relationship is mended enough so I’m his go-to girl again. That realization puts me a little more at ease, but I’m still worrying over the fact of how badly I hurt him.

  He looks at me and frowns. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  Oh, fart. I had forgotten I look like I’ve been run over by a truck. I shake my head exasperatedly, not meeting his gaze. “Oh, you know how things are in Lizzieland sometimes…”

  Putting a finger under my chin and raising my face to meet his, he says gently, “Really, you can tell me. Maybe I can help.”

  I sigh. “Brody and I…are finished.”

  His mouth opens in surprise, and, as expected, he looks anything but sad. “I’m…sorry?”

  Chuckling, I reply, “You’re sorry? I hardly think so.”

  “What did the asshole do to you?” He puffs out his chest. “Do you want me to beat him up for you? No, wait…I probably couldn’t beat him up. Do you want me to write a really mean article about him? My pen is much mightier than my fist.”

  I smile, beyond happy that the old Blake is back in my life again. Not necessarily in a romantic kind of way, but in an I-get-you kind of way. Blake always has my back. “I appreciate the thought, but no.” I take a breath, embarrassed to admit the next part. “He…kind of did to me what I did to you. He kept a crucial piece of information from me, and I found out. Being lied to totally blows. Blake, I’m so sorry.”

  He squeezes my shoulder. “You’re right. It does blow. But eventually you’ll get over it.”

  I look up at him worriedly. “Are you over it?”

  He winks at me. “Nearly.” He smiles and hops up from my desk. “Hey, I do have some more questions for you, and we need to go over them now so neither of us has to stay late to get this article done. To the break room!”

  A little unsettled from our conversation, I follow him back to the break room. Was he serious that he hasn’t gotten over what happened between us yet, or was he joking? I’m too tired to worry about it right now.

  We sit down together, and Blake asks me a few more questions. He’s being very kind to me—not poking fun at my lack of storytelling skills like usual. I finish with telling him some more about my fingerprinting experience and subsequent holding at the police station while my alibi was being verified.

  “That’s it. Anything else you want to know?” I ask.

  “Yeah. What did Callahan do to push you over the edge? You’re pretty forgiving, as girlfriends go. This had to be huge.”

  I sigh. I feel a bit weird talking to Blake about Brody, but he did ask. Although before I didn’t completely trust Blake with sensitive information, for some reason now I do. Especially in light of his date with Lydia tonight, he has a right to know all of the facts. “Lydia killed Brody’s brother in Hawthorne Grove. Brody packed up and followed her here.”

  Blake looks ill at ease. “You’re joking, right?”

  “I wish. After she moved here, I guess she took a breather from being a murderer. He got all discouraged, and then out of the blue I show up at the police station and make his day by implicating her in the deaths of Jason Harris and Mark Heston. Knowing of my reputation, he assumes I’m going to do my normal investigation thing and starts following me, eventually pulling stupid me into a relationship. I practically handed all of my evidence to him. I mean, I was going to hand it all over eventually, so he could have just asked.”

  His face turning angry, he growls, “He took advantage of you to get evidence for a case.”

  “Basically.”

  Blake’s face has completely darkened, and he’s become very still. This is not good. He’s going to blow up, and it’s not going to be pretty.

  I need to diffuse him fast, because he’s right, he can’t win a fight with Brody—physical or otherwise—because at the end of the day Brody can always arrest him or tase him, or worse. “Blake, I’m a big girl. I knew I was getting involved with him too fast, but I did it anyway. Getting hurt is a risk you have to take in any relationship. This was no different. I even understand why he tricked me. He’s desperate to catch his brother’s killer. I can appreciate that. I would probably have done the exact same thing.”

  “I hate seeing you hurt.” He reaches out and puts his hand over mine.

  It’s strange that after all this time and all that we’ve been through, his touch still runs a spark through me. I cover by saying, “I’ll be fine. I’m a tough chick, remember? I break and enter, I get arrested, and people get murdered right under my nose every once in a while. I can handle this.”

  Removing his hand from mine, he smiles at me. “I forget sometimes that you’re tougher than you look.”

  “And you know what this means, right?”

  “What?”

  I gloat, “Brody just verified that I was right about who the killer is. Let the record show I totally called it this time.”

  Blake grins at me. “Duly noted. I won’t ever question your detective skills again, Nancy Drew. So about my date with a serial killer tonight—how are we going to catch her in the act without getting me killed?”

  I pull a face. “Could you not put it that way? It sounds so morbid.”

  “It is morbid. How are we going to prove anything? We could do hidden cameras, but even if she tried anything or we got lucky and for some reason she confesses to everything—”

  “That’s a stretch,” I interrupt.

  “I don’t think an amateur recording will be enough to get her arrested and make the charges stick.”

  I think for a moment. “I hate to say this, but we need the police. Specifically Brody.”

  Blake gives me an annoyed look. “I don’t trust him. Why not Harrison or Johnson? They’re good guys.”

  “Yes, but those two would never go for using you as bait to trap a murderer. Brody won’t be thrilled, but he’d be the most likely to go along with it.”

  ***

  “No. Absolutely not.” Brody shakes his head vehemently.

  “Oh, come on,” I whine. “Can’t I at least come in and talk about it?” I had headed straight over to Brody’s house after work and found him just getting out of his car, carrying a bag of groceries.

  “Fine, but the answer is still no.” Brody unlocks the door to his house and lets us inside. I can’t believe so much has changed since we left here this morning. It boggles the mind.

  I continue, “Everything is in place, and we’re doing this with or without you. In, like, two hours.” Blake and I put our plan together during work, and now it’s my job to convince Brody to go along with it. It’s not going so well.

  “No, you’re not,” he says matter-of-factly, closing the door behind me.

  “You are not the boss of me,” I counter.

  “My main concern is to keep you safe, and that means no ridiculous plans to catch murderers for you.”

  “Try and stop me.”

  He turns to me, his eyes serious. “Don’t think I’m above cuffing you, because I’m not.”

  I grumble, “You are so impossible. What did I ever see in you?”

  His mouth curls up into a grin. Really? I’m totally pissed, and he’s smiling at me? He says, “You’re just mad because you’re not getting your way, princess.”

  “Look, Blake is going to go through with this, with or without us. And if he gets himself killed because you wouldn’t lift a finger to help him, I will never forgive you as long as I live.”

  His face falls. “You still love him, don’t you?”

  My mouth falls open in shock. “What? Love…Blake? No. Um…no.” I frown, lots of confusing feelings swirling inside me.

  “Are you sure? That wasn’t very convincing.”

  “I’m sure, okay?” I snap.

  Brightening, he asks, “So are you saying maybe you and I have a chance?”

  I squint at him. “How did this conversation go from catching murderers to our failed relationship?”

  Brody reaches p
ast me to place his keys on a hook by the door. “Failed? This is just a snag.”

  Does he seriously not get it? “A snag? Are you delusional? And don’t try to change the subject on me. Why won’t you help Blake?”

  “Because it’s a stupid idea.” He turns to head for the kitchen.

  “Stupid idea or not, he needs you. What’s stupid is the feud you two have—”

  “Shh,” he shushes me, putting down his grocery bag. He draws his gun, using his other hand to pull me closely behind him.

  I whisper, “What’s wrong?”

  He murmurs, “Someone’s been here.”

  Brody goes through every room with me in tow, making sure there is no one lurking anywhere. Once he’s satisfied that we’re alone, he releases me and walks back into his living area, surveying the room with troubled eyes.

  “Why do you think someone has been here?” I ask.

  Crossing to his coffee table, he gets out a handkerchief, using it to pick up a piece of paper. His face becomes more and more grim as he reads the message on it. He looks at me, serious cop face in place. “Because of this,” he replies, holding up the paper for me to see.

  It says: I finally realized you’re Rob’s brother. It’s too bad your nephew has to grow up without a daddy. Stay away, or he’ll have to grow up without an uncle, too. I glance at Brody’s coffee table. The photo of Brody and his nephew is missing, the note put in its place.

  My heart thuds heavily in my chest. “Oh, Brody, no.” I cover my mouth with my hands, chilled to the bone. Lydia basically just said that Brody’s next. The note was a direct threat, but I’m actually more upset by the fact that she stole the photo of him. She means for it to be her trophy of killing him. As unhappy with him as I am, I couldn’t stand for anything to happen to him.