“I think I’m going to pass. Like you should.”
“I’m the best man,” I say with an uncomfortable smile. “I have a speech to make and all. About their love, God help me. They’ll be crushed if I don’t. I think I should start drinking right now.”
“Maybe good old Alkaline will pop up and give you an excuse, you never know.”
“I’m not that lucky.”
“It’ll be fine.” She stands up too and air kisses my cheeks. “Remember: you’re getting a friend, not losing one.”
“‘Ask Mary’ needs to find a new trade,” I say.
“‘Ask Mary’ is a fifty year old man named Duke. He used to write obituaries.”
“It shows.” I hug my cousin. “Bye.”
As I get outside and start toward the subway, I do something I try never to do: think. It always leads to problems, followed by depression, followed by drinking, ending with a hangover. So thinking actually hurts me. But that ever stopped me from doing anything. V inherited the common sense in the family. Per usual, she’s right. I need to adapt, grow. Come to terms with the state of things.
Rebecca is not going away. He loves her, and she him. There is nothing I can do about that. He doesn’t love me, not in the way I want him to. He never will. That wouldn’t be different even if he had never met Rebecca. It’s been twenty goddamn years, why can’t this fact just sink in?
So, I have a choice to make. I can be happy, truly happy for my friend that he found such a warm, giving woman to love, and who loves him back. I can share in their joy and embrace her as a new friend. Though this time, I’ll actually mean it. Slay that green-eyed monster that stands in my way. Or I do what V has suggested for years. I walk away. I don’t answer his phone calls, I don’t go where he will be, and if I see him I walk the other way. I cut him out of my life. But that would be akin to cutting out my own heart. I couldn’t live. I just couldn’t. I need him. Me, who everyone thinks needs nothing and no one. Guess I’ve made my choice. I’ll carry on as I always have, with my head held high and smile on my face, even though inside I’m sobbing. Good thing I’ve had a lifetime of practice.
I stop walking and turn to stare at The Falls. This is it, the moment. The fork in the road. Justin Pendergast has been my life for twenty years. My love has been the one constant in my fucking rollercoaster of a life. Besides the job, it’s sustained me. Gave me hope to carry on. The belief that one beautiful day that man would turn to me and with such brilliance in his eyes tell me he loves me just as much as I do him. But it was just a dream. Accept it. Move on. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to me, to Rebecca, Justin, even…Harry. I bite my lower lip to stop the tears. This is it, Joanna. Time to wake the fuck up. You can do it.
Okay, then.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Enough
Sleep is impossible now, so I’m back at the station skimming C.O. Moore, Lopez, and Leon’s HR files, financials, telephone records, just about anything we have on them. There are no red flags. They all went through extensive background checks that came back clean. None have been arrested or have more than five grand in their bank accounts. The forensic accountants are digging deeper. I close the last file, and I’m at a loss at what to do next. Someone else interviewed the spouses and friends yesterday, and there was nothing out of the ordinary. Even the Mike Spencer explosion front has stalled. This entire case is nothing but a brick wall behind a lead one.
I have nothing to do now. Strike that, I can run down more tips, which have trickled down to three an hour after Gearhead took control of all machines at the docks a few hours ago and is getting all the press. Last I heard he and Geronimo were beating each other to a pulp. Glad I’m not on that one. Half our underlings are down there now, and I’m enjoying the quiet.
Cam just finished reviewing his half of the guard’s information, and I’m not speaking to him. Throw me under a bus like that? No, I will not pass you the Lopez file. Get off your betraying butt and get it yourself. I’ve already forgiven him, but can’t appear to be weak. And I’m lazy. He’s down in the lab reading them the riot act. We still don’t have the clippings back or the reports on the burnt trash can. I’m not looking forward to reading through all the Justice clippings, but maybe I can find a pattern.
I push my chair away from the desk. I need a task. I hate having nothing to do. Thinking follows it and I’ve had enough of that today. I can snatch the other three files off Cam’s desk, but my brain has stopped functioning. Maybe I’ll dash off to the library down the block to see if they have a self-help book. Or twelve. “Get Over Your Man” or “Acceptance, it’s Not Just a Scrabble Word.” I hate reading, though.
Harry isn’t in his office or SVU. I stop one of the uniforms on the tip line who directs me toward the nursery, as we call the back room where officers on duty catch a few winks. I spend more nights in there than at my apartment. It’s nothing more than a ten-by-twelve windowless room with two bunk beds. The sheets are scratchy, the room is barely ventilated, but if you’re tired enough, it’s heaven.
There is only one human shaped lump on the bottom bunk in the back. The reason we call it the nursery is because even the most grizzled, hardened officer sleeps like a baby in here. Harry is no exception. He lies on his side facing me, light snores escaping. I’d tease him about it, but apparently I snore louder. I lock the door and tip toe over to him, sitting on the bed opposite his.
I just watch him for a minute, taking him in. He’s not as handsome as Justin, no man really is, but he turns me on like no other has before. He’s funny, charming, and strong. I respect him. I trust him. So what the hell is the matter with me? I have this wonderful guy who I respect, adore, and for some reason sees something worthwhile in me. That should be enough. I’m beyond lucky to have him, and I keep him at arm’s length.
I really haven’t been fair to him. The one time he ever attempted to discuss our relationship I played coy and distracted him with sex. I justified it, of course. Why get serious? Why ruin the fun? It couldn’t possibly go anywhere. It was just some fun on both our parts. He’s been slumming it for a mid-life thrill. That’s what I’ve been telling myself anyway. Probably to protect us both. He deserves better than a woman whose heart is full of another. No room. No room for him. Maybe it’s time to make some.
I pull up his blanket to make him more comfortable and the snores stop. His eyes open, and he blinks to focus. I remain above him smiling and he smiles back. “What time is it?” he asks.
“About four.”
“Anything going on?”
“Quiet as a crypt,” I whisper with another smile. “Scoot over.”
He raises an eyebrow, but moves toward the wall. I climb into the twin bed with my back to him, resting my head on the pillow and wrapping his arm around my chest. With a sigh, I close my eyes. He nestles in closer to me.
“What if someone walks in?” Harry asks.
“I locked the door.” I kiss his hand. “Don’t worry.”
He relaxes a little, laying his head back down. This is one of the reasons he’s such a great boyfriend. Most men would be taking advantage of this situation, trying to make a move for public sex, but Harry just holds me and traces a circle on my sternum with his thumb. “Did you get any sleep?” he whispers.
“Hour or two.”
“I could kiss Gearhead. I got approval to send everyone home at five.”
“Yourself included, I hope.”
“Why do you think I asked? Forget the rest of you, I’m bone tired. I remember I used to do thirty-six hours with nothing but coffee and willpower. I hate getting old.”
“You’re not that old, Harry.”
“My body begs to differ.”
“Your body didn’t seem to think it was that old last Friday. Remember? All three times?”
He chuckles. “I must still be recovering then. You do take it out of me. Literally.”
I playfully slap his hand. “Filthy talk, old man. And at our place of business no less.”
&nb
sp; “You are the one who climbed into bed with me, Det. Fallon.”
“I hate it when you’re all logical and right.” I tilt my head back and he pecks me. I kiss him deeper and roll over, facing him now. I break the kiss and nestle into my Harry nook. He wraps his arms around me. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
Being you. “Nothing.”
“Have a bad day?”
“No more than usual. Just needed a hug.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Happy to oblige, ma’am.”
We lay like this, the only sound from his heartbeat and breathing. I want to talk to him about today, hell about everything. He knows about my Pop, about Mom, but how can I talk to him about Justin? He knows we’re close, but like most things we’ve never discussed how close. I’m sure he’s guessed my feelings, but he’s never called me out on them. Another reason I need to hold onto him. He just…accepts me. As is. Screwed up, ornery, cranky, and yet here he is. Petting my hair and risking his reputation for me. I’m nuts. I can have it all. Respect, acceptance, even love, if I just let go of the impossible.
Just let go.
“I want you to come with me to Justin’s party tomorrow,” I say.
He does a double take. Guess I surprised him. “You’re going?”
“If I can. Do you…want to come?”
He’s speechless. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, then chuckles. “Really?”
“Definitely. It has to happen sometime. It has been five months. It’s only a matter of time before someone finds out, we both know that. This way we’d have control over it.”
“I—I just don’t know if it’s a good idea,” he stammers.
“You can say no if you don’t want to go. It’s fine.” Of course it isn’t. I flip over again so he can’t see my face.
He sighs. “There’s just a lot to consider.”
“I know,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. “I said it’s fine. Just a thought. I’ll just go alone like I was planning to, no biggie.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds, then says, “I want to go. I really do. I want to walk in there with the prettiest girl on my arm, and dance with her, and show her off. You know I do. I’m just, I’m worried. We’ve both worked so hard to get where we are.”
“Harry, we’ve been damn lucky so far. If we keep seeing each other, it will come out, we both know that, and we know what they’re going to say. I’m sleeping my way to the top, you’re going through a mid-life crisis and taking advantage of me. I don’t care. People have been saying nasty things about me all my life. You get used to it. You survive it. They’re not going to fire either of us. We’re both too high profile and too good at our jobs.”
“They could transfer one of us.”
“If they try, I’ll have Justin blackmail and threaten everyone in city hall and the department. It’s one of the few pleasures of being the best friend of the crown prince of Galilee. If they do transfer me to vice or homicide, then so be it. I can come back when you’re promoted and they bring in someone else.” I pause. “You’re worth it, Harry.”
He’s quiet again. “This is important to you, isn’t it?”
I flip back over to face him. “I just think it’s time to shit or get off the pot, you know?”
“That’s possibly the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Well, I am something of a poet, Harry. It’s one of my many talents.” My smile drops. “Seriously, though. I don’t want to pressure you into this. I just…want you by my side. I want to let everyone know I’m dating the nicest, handsomest, most wonderful man in Galilee. The aftermath, well, we’ll handle it. Together.”
He’s quiet for a moment, weighing his options. But only for a moment. He smiles. “Okay, then. Guess I’m your plus one.”
My smile resurfaces. “Really?”
“I’ve wanted to meet the famous Rebecca. And I do look great in a tux.”
I kiss him once, twice, three times. On the forth he kisses me back deep enough to push away any doubts on either of our parts. I roll on top of him, still kissing. He’s just about got my top off when the door handle jiggles and we both freeze. There’s a knock on the door. “Det. Fallon?”
I leap up, tucking in my shirt as I walk to the door. Harry pulls his covers back up and tosses the blanket on the opposite bed back as if I had just gotten out of it. This is not the first time we’ve gone through this charade. I unlock the door, rubbing my eyes. A uniform stands outside. “What is it?” I ask groggily.
“A package just arrived for you,” the woman says.
“Thank you.”
I slip out the door, blocking her view of Harry and walk back to my desk. A huge dress box wrapped in dark blue paper and a big red bow is in my chair. Cam sits at his desk across from mine with a huge grin on his face. “You have an admirer,” he says.
“What the hell is this?”
“Don’t know, but ask me who it’s from.”
“Who?”
“Justice. He just delivered it himself.”
“Justice? Justice bought me a present?” I ask, shocked.
“Maybe he has a crush on you. Or you’ve been knocking boots in his hideout without telling me.”
“Yeah, we’re having a secret affair, and we’re madly in love with each other.”
“Are you?”
“Please. I’d sooner fuck Gearhead.” I rip open the wrapping paper. Word must have gotten around about my not so secret admirer. A crowd, Harry included, forms around my desk. I was right, it is a dress box. If he bought me a dress, I will track him down and shoot him. I don’t do girl clothes unless absolutely necessary. But it isn’t a dress, it’s a jacket. A black leather-like, fitted trench coat with silver buttons with “J” on them. The impossible has happened. I am going to say something nice about Justice. He has excellent taste in coats.
“Nice,” Cam says.
I pull the jacket out. It’s lighter than leather with a different texture too. I put it on, and sure enough it’s a perfect fit. Looks awesome too. Stylish, yet bad-ass. “I don’t think it’s leather,” I tell the murmuring audience.
“There’s a card,” Cam points out.
Inside the box is a white card. “‘Dear Det. Fallon,’” I start reading aloud. “‘Like you, I have found the traditional Kevlar vest an eyesore. Perhaps now that you own a more fashionable version, you will be more inclined to wear one. Enjoy. Justice.’” I scoff. The fucking nerve!
Cam touches the coat. “I think it’s made of the same material as his uniform.”
“You mean his costume?” I ask snidely.
“It looks really good on you,” the officer who summoned me says.
I take it off, tossing it on my desk. “What the hell am I supposed to do with it? I can’t exactly return it. I don’t know where to return it to.”
“You could wear it,” Cam says.
“Oh, yeah? What if it’s not really bulletproof?”
“I doubt Justice would lie to you,” Harry says.
“But why send me this? He barely knows me, and I’m not exactly his biggest fan.”
“He’s just doing what he does,” Cam says. “Protecting the citizens of Galilee. Even your ungrateful ass.”
It is a nice coat. It’s exactly what I would pick out for myself. And it was given in the spirit of camaraderie. Maybe being part of the new me should include accepting Justice. He’s never been anything but nice to me, even when I’m bitchier than normal. He does do a lot for the city. We are colleagues after all. Okay, I just really want to keep the coat.
“It would be rude not to take it,” I offer. “He went to a lot of trouble and all.”
“Did you just say something nice about a superhero?” Cam asks.
“No! I simply stated a fact.”
“Okay, people,” Harry says, “excitement’s over. It’s just a jacket. Get back to work.”
The crowd disperses, mumbling to each other about my gift. The gossip mill has already
started weaving its tale. By tonight Justice and I will be involved in a torrid affair or I’ll be his secret sidekick. Good thing I’m the new and improved Joanna or I’d be inclined to kick his superhero butt from here to the ocean even though he gave me a bitchin’ coat.
“What’s that old saying?” Cam asks. “First comes coat, then comes marriage?”
I point my finger at him. “I will kick your ass.”
“Play nice you two,” Harry says. “Did the lab finish with the newspapers?”
“Yeah. Just Ryder’s fingerprints and those of five of the six guards. The ones he burnt are gone forever. The lab couldn’t pull anything useful.”
“Another dead end,” I say.
“The autopsies are done too. Nothing we didn’t already know.”
“Forensic accountants?” Harry asks me.
“Should be done by tomorrow morning.”
“We are too good at our jobs,” Cam says. “Anything we can do, we’ve done. What now, boss? Want us to run down more tips?”
“No. We’ve got people already on it.” Harry sighs. “Alright. There’s no point in you two being here with nothing to do. I want you to finish up your reports for the day and go home. Sleep, see your family, whatever. Just keep your cells on in case you’re needed. I want you both here at eight in the morning tomorrow.”
“Yes, boss,” Cam says with a huge grin.
Harry walks back to his office. Cam looks at me, and I shrug. “I’m not going to complain.” I put on my jacket and toss the box on the floor.
“You want to come over for dinner?” Cam asks.
“You think I’m going to forgive you for what happened at the hospital with the promise of pork chops, Judas?”
“Worth a shot. So, when are you going to forgive me?”
I sit back down. “Cam, I’m Irish. We hold grudges even after we’re dead.”
“So what are you going to do with your free night?”
“Well, because of you, I have to go buy a new dress for the party tomorrow night.”
Justice (The Galilee Falls Trilogy) Page 11
