Sins For Truths (The Case Files of Logan St. Martin Book 2)

by S. L. Hebert

  Without saying a word, I close my door and wait for him to back out of the driveway, so I can leave.

  On the drive back to my apartment, I have plenty of time to think about everything that’s transpired today. My emotions pass through me in waves. One moment I’m satisfied with how things turned out earlier, the next I’m filled with regret for taking the drastic measures I felt I was forced to take. Why can’t they understand it’s my life on the line? I can’t sit around and wait for the killer to come for me. I must continue to keep the upper hand in this case, or I’m sure to perish. With the thought of my life coming to an end lingering in my head, the cold reality that I’m no longer alone in this fight dawns on me. Without realizing it, I glance down to see one of my hands resting open on my stomach, which now carries my baby. Oh Michael, how will I tell him? Will there ever be a right time? Turning in to my apartment complex, I swiftly remind myself that if there’s an appropriate time to tell him, this isn’t it.

  Stepping out of my vehicle, I’m suddenly hit with an old, haunting feeling, remembering the last time I felt like this; it was when I was receiving my gifts and messages from John on my doorstep. Looking around, I see no one except Michael walking my way. Knowing my gut instincts usually right, I decide to wait a moment, so we can walk together.

  As we’re approaching my door, I half-expect us to find some mysterious package again, but I soon realize there’s nothing there. Silently, I breathe a sigh of relief and unlock my door. Upon entering, I head straight to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine; I once heard somewhere doctors say it’s okay to have one glass when you’re pregnant. Not bothering to offer Michael anything, I kick off my shoes and plop right on my couch, waiting for what’s to come next.

  I can see he’s trying to figure out how to say whatever it is on his mind. Knowing myself, and that I’m not in a pussyfooting around mood, I plainly say, “Feel free to get what you have to say off your chest, Michael. We’re home now, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  He continues to stare at me with a blank look on his face, then as he heads into the kitchen, I hear him say, “I don’t even know where to begin, Logan. For once in my life, I’m sort of at a loss for words. I guess the best way to begin this is by asking which would you like to talk about first? What the sheriff’s wanting to do with you, or how we feel about the case in general, and eventually us? Pick one, any one, but know that we’re going to be discussing everything today, so you may want to make yourself comfortable on the couch.”

  His last sentence brings back my thought of telling him about the baby to the forefront. I sit in silence for a moment, contemplating what we should discuss first. Deciding on the sheriff, I proceed by saying, “Let’s start with the old bastard first.”

  As he takes a seat next to me, I quickly become intoxicated by his cologne. Taking another sip of my wine – or as I always call it, liquid courage – I patiently sit and listen to all he has to say.

  He informs me the sheriff’s basically wanting to fire my ass for my little stunt today, except his hands are tied for the time being because of the case. While the lieutenant, on the other hand, is trying to save my job, Michael says he’s going to bat for me and basically taking on the sheriff at the risk of getting caught in the crossfire. I must say, I’m surprised Lieutenant Clark is stepping up for me. No one dares take on the sheriff. He’s been known to do some underhanded shit in his day. Once, he had a judge sign off on a warrant under false pretenses to go after someone, searching through all their bank accounts. Till this day, that person’s life is still in disarray over the whole ordeal.

  Listening to Michael now as he speaks about what I missed down at the station, I try to stay focused. I’m only speaking when needed, answering his questions and keeping my private opinions out of it, at least for the moment. I know I put him through a lot of shit today, so I owe it to him to at least hear him out.

  Once I know he’s finished with his line of questioning and I’ve heard my status with the department, I decide it’s my turn. “Michael, I listened to everything you’ve had to say. I understand that I’ve placed myself in hot water with the sheriff and the department. It truly means a great deal to me that the Homicide Unit has my back. It’s just that although everyone has good intentions, the truth is, it’s my life on the line. The sheriff has me sitting on the side, watching as he keeps making bad calls and using poor judgement. I mean, think about it, what does he know about hunting down a killer? The only thing he knows how to catch is the front page of a newspaper. Why else would Lieutenant Clark put his own ass at risk if he didn’t believe I was doing the right thing? He knows I’m a damn good detective and I solve more cases than anyone else in the department. I think he trusts my judgement, even if he doesn’t like how I go about it. As for you, it’s too personal, plain and simple. One of our killers is your half-brother, and the prey he’s hunting is me. You’ve become too emotionally involved to see what’s right in front of your eyes.”

  “And what exactly is that, Logan?”

  “Me, Michael. You can’t see me, at least not the old me. To you, I’ve become a victim, mainly because you witnessed the torture your brother put me through. You used to look at me with admiration and understanding, but not anymore. Now you look at me with pity and uncertainty. You’re scared, Michael, and you need to be honest with me and yourself about it.”

  “Maybe you’re right, Logan, but the way I look at it, one of us has to be. You walk around here as if nothing’s going to happen to you, flying off the handle on a whim to go after my brother alone. The whole time we were trying to locate you, all the horrible scenarios kept playing out in my mind. How am I supposed to protect you if you’re going to sneak off without me the first chance you get? I have to be able to trust you, Logan, and you are hell bent on making it hard for me to.”

  As I sit listening to his words, I can’t help letting my guard down towards him. He seems so vulnerable, it’s a side of him I’ve never seen before. Allowing myself to get lost in the moment, I gently place my hand on the side of his face, and in a whisper, I find myself saying, “Michael, I’m okay. I need you to realize that I can handle this, and so much more.”

  Without a word, he slides his hand onto the back of my neck, and we begin to kiss passionately. Getting lost in the moment, I cast all my cares to the side and collapse my body into his. As I enjoy the warm feel of his masculine arms wrapped around me, my entire world stands still, and the worries of tomorrow are washed away.

  Just as I’m beginning to let myself go, my phone begins to ring. Reluctantly, I break away and check the number. To my surprise, it’s one I’m not familiar with. Looking to Michael, I quickly show him the number on the Caller ID, then answer it.

  No sooner than I say the word hello, a sultry woman’s voice comes across the line, saying, “You’re next, Logan. I’m going to finish what you started long ago.”

  As the phone goes silent, I look to Michael, who can’t hide the anger flashing in his eyes. Placing my phone on the coffee table, I hear Michael already putting a call in to the department. From the sounds of it, he’s on the phone with Detective Richard. It doesn’t take him long before he’s hung up and pulling me back into his arms, telling me how it’s all going to be okay.

  Forcing myself not to fall into a pattern of allowing him to coddle me, I end up pulling away, saying, “Fuck everything being okay, Michael. Nothing is going to be okay, not until I catch this bitch and put her ass behind bars where she belongs.”

  “We’ll figure out who she is, Logan. Just give us a little time.”

  “I don’t have time, Michael. That’s why I went to see Mr. Billiot. Your brother hinted to me today that whoever his little birdie is on the outside has to do with my past, and it’s something that deals with down the bayou. Everything in my gut tells me Mr. Billiot holds the key with all the answers. I need to track him down and force him to tell me what he knows.”

  Letting out a deep breath while he
runs his fingers through his dark hair, Michael stands from the couch, saying, “Fine, then we’ll find him together, but first I want to let Richard trace the call. It’ll at least give us an idea of where the new killer is roaming. For the time being, while we wait, I’m going to take a quick shower and freshen up.”

  As I watch him turn to walk away, I stay silent. When he’s almost to the bathroom door, he turns to me and says, “If we’re going to go look for Mr. Billiot, then I suggest you stop drinking.”

  Then with one swift turn, he closes the bathroom door, leaving me to sit on the couch, pondering my own thoughts about everything.

  Michael

  As I stand here in the bathroom, looking in the mirror, I try to control the anger and rage building inside of me. I refuse to lash out at Logan any further about her stupid decision today, knowing it would do me no good in the end anyway. Hell, if I know her, it would only add more gasoline to the fire. Now, with our new female killer contacting her, the pressure’s on to find out who she is and put a stop to her. The best thing I can do now is help her find Mr. Billiot, in the hopes that he has some answers.

  Before we head out, I want to take a minute to shave my face. My beard is starting to itch, and I don’t know if I can stand it much longer. Grabbing my personal hygiene bag off the hook behind the door, I find my razor and quickly notice I don’t have shaving cream. The thought of having to use some of Logan’s is out of the question. I refuse to walk around smelling like girl’s perfume. I remember seeing a few different soaps in the cabinet under the sink last time I was staying here, figuring it’s my only shot at finding an alternative to what’s in the other cabinet.

  At first glance, all I see is a few towels, some personal things, and cleaning supplies. I was about to close the door when the pink box in the back corner caught my eye. I have seen boxes like that on commercials before. Instantly, I tell myself that’s not what it is, but then I decide to move the towels and pick up the little box. Sure enough, it’s a pregnancy test. What the hell?! As I shake the box, I can hear the contents inside rattling and notice one end has been opened. Cautiously taking the stick out, I realize it’s been used. Leaning back, holding on to the stick, I find myself sitting now on the bathroom floor. Instantly, all sorts of questions begin to run through my mind. The main one is, when did she take the test? Was it before we slept together, or after?

  Once the shock wears off a little, I start to read the back of the box, needing to see what the lines mean. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down; it only takes me a moment to see this is a positive test, meaning she was or is pregnant.

  Dear God, how do I approach this subject with her? If it was mine, wouldn’t she have told me already? This causes me to think this could be an old test, and maybe something happened, and she lost the baby. If the latter is the case, I’m basically violating her privacy by bringing it up. Suddenly, everything in the world doesn’t seem as important as it did before. Holding the positive test in my hand causes me to realize I need answers.

  I’m not sure how long I sat on the bathroom floor before forcing myself to get up and face whatever is to come from this. Once I was standing, I didn’t bother giving myself time to think. Quickly opening the bathroom door, I notice Logan’s not in the living room anymore. Figuring she’s now in her bedroom, I decide to go knock on her door.

  Standing by her door, waiting to hear a response, I knock again; still silence. I don’t bother waiting any longer, opening the door to see the room is empty. For a brief second, my heart leaps into my throat as I turn and head back out to the living room.

  As I’m walking back through the dining area, I can hear the front door open, then close, causing me to instantly call out, “Logan is that you?”

  “Yes, Michael, it’s me. Who did you think it was?”

  Entering from the foyer, I can see she has the mail in her hand. Breathing a quick sigh of relief, I instantly say, “Next time, would it be too much trouble for you to let me know you’re leaving the apartment?”

  “I didn’t want to bother you in the shower. Besides, I brought my phone with me in case I needed it, or if Richard calls back.” No sooner than she says her last words, I can see her eyes traveling up and down my body. For a second, she hesitates, then says, “I thought you were going to freshen up a bit before we head out? You look worse than you did before going in.”

  “Logan, I think we need to talk. I have a few questions that need answering.”

  With a nervous chuckle, she asks, “What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until you were finished showering?”

  I suddenly find myself standing face to face with the woman I love and not sure of what to say. How do I go about asking the questions without her getting pissed off, or worse, upset?

  “Quit procrastinating, Michael, and spit out whatever it is.”

  Seeing her patience is already running thin, I hastily find myself blurting out my question. “Logan, have you taken a pregnancy test?”

  As I stand there waiting for an answer, I watch as all the blood drains from her face. Not saying a word, she simply goes from looking me in the eyes to now staring down at the floor.

  “Logan, I need you to know, I was not snooping around in your bathroom. I was looking for some soap to try and shave when I came across the pink box. It was in the back corner of the cabinet. I’m just wanting to know if it was taken recently or if it’s from before me?”

  In an almost sheepish voice, I hear her say, “I guess it was bound to come out.”

  “What was bound to come out? I’m taking it that this was before you and me, right?”

  I stand frozen, waiting for her to answer as my emotions become mixed up and confused. I silently curse myself for not taking more time to sort out my feelings on the issue before springing my questions on her. No matter which way she answers, I now know I won’t be happy.

  I’m about to try and say something to break the strained silence when, without even looking at me, she says, “I guess there’s never going to be a perfect time to tell you this, Michael, so I may as well just say it. I’m pregnant. I didn’t plan it I’m on birth control...this wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

  Immediately, the shockwaves start to run through me, and without realizing it, my voice is set in the tone of the rage that’s bubbling up from inside of me.

  “Logan, you’re pregnant? When were you going to tell me? Or were you even going to tell me?” Slowly, I watch as she shakes her head, but never once does she make eye contact with me. Losing my patience, I find myself yelling, “Answer me, damn it!”

  Lifting her head, she shoots me a pair of furious eyes, asking, “Who the hell do you think you’re yelling at, Michael? This is my home, and if you don’t lower your voice, you can get the hell out. I found out only a few days ago, and I was going to tell you when the case was over, or at least when everything was more settled around here. You can get off your high horse. Everything isn’t always about you.”

  “You are so right, Logan. It’s not about me. It’s about our unborn child you’re carrying around inside of you. You know, the one you don’t give two shits about apparently, because if you did, you never would’ve ended up down at the prison today alone. So, let’s talk about that, Logan. Let’s talk about how much danger you’re willing to put yourself in, along with our unborn child. You’re going to have to explain it to me, Logan, because from where I’m standing, you haven’t shown any concern towards your current situation.”

  “You’re being an ass, Michael. You seem to forget that in the last few days, we’ve been dealing with dead bodies popping up and a new killer on the loose. Have you forgotten everything that’s been going on around here this past week? I haven’t even had time to call and make a doctor’s appointment to see how far along I am. I’m just as shocked and surprised by this as you are. You can calm the fuck down, so we can discuss this like adults, or you can leave. The choice is yours.”

  Suddenly afraid I’m not going to be a
ble to discuss this rationally, I quickly decide that going outside on the back patio to get some fresh air is my best option. Lowering my voice, I pointedly say, “I think I need some time. When I come back in, we can discuss this further. I’m sorry, Logan, but you’re going to have to give me a minute to absorb all of this.”

  “Take all the time you need, Michael. Just know that if you come back in, I will not allow you to speak to me in the way you just did.”

  Without giving her response a reply, I head out of the sliding glass door onto the patio area overlooking the waterway. Taking a seat at the wrought iron table, I try to wrap my mind around everything. If I’m honest, part of me is relieved the baby’s mine. If it would’ve turned out the pregnancy test was old, then I would have been left to deal with another hidden secret from Logan’s past. At least now I know her sorrows don’t come from her losing a child. I can honestly say I don’t wish that type of pain and anguish on any human being.

  Now I just need to calm down. No matter how angry I am that she put herself in harm’s way today, I never should’ve raised my voice towards her. I’m not sure what came over me; I simply couldn’t bear the thought of her putting herself face to face with my brother, knowing she’s carrying my child. I’ve always heard women shouldn’t be under stress while pregnant and the first three months is when a woman is most likely to miscarry.

  Leaning back in the chair, I lazily close my eyes, thinking about how I’m going to need to make sure she gets to her doctor as soon as possible. Maybe tomorrow I’ll stop by a bookstore and pick up a few books to start reading up on what to expect. Then there’s the thought of having to tell the lieutenant and the sheriff. Like it or not, she’s no longer able to be involved with the cases. They’ll surely want her to take leave or work a desk job. The realization as to why she didn’t tell me is becoming very clear.