For You

by Kristen Ashley

  “Last coupla months.”

  “But he’s been workin’ this shit for six.”

  “I’ll go back over the statements. See if other withdrawals increased.”

  “My advice?” Colt offered. “Get Marie’s too. I reckon she had her own account, money from her parents. And talk to her neighbor again. See if Marie told her she was giving him money.”

  “Christ, you think he took his wife’s money to keep his girl on the side and set up a Feb Watch?” Sully asked.

  “I think he’d do anything,” Colt answered. “He’s a man without a moral compass, Sully. Drug me, okay, I’m a big guy, I can take it and get mine back if I have that inclination. Feb? She’s got me, Morrie, Jack, Jackie, an army of support. Amy? Puck? Total innocents. Defenseless. He mowed through them and when he brought low Amy, Craig said the fucker laughed.”

  Sully got close and his voice got quiet. “Speakin’ of that, I had a talk with Nowakowski before he went in. Explained a few things. He’s considerin’ helpin’, if you ask, see if he can find a way to bypass some channels, you find out that adoption Amy fixed was closed.”

  Colt didn’t want to talk about this, not now, and he didn’t want Sully talking about it to anyone either.

  “Sully –”

  Sully lifted up his hand. “That’s another night, another bottle of Jack, I know. Just sayin’.”

  Colt felt his blood start heating. “You think I should approach a twenty-one year old kid and let him know he’s the product of… whatever the fuck?”

  “I think you’re my partner and a damn good friend and if you decide you want to find your boy, I’ll do whatever I can to help. That’s what I think, nothin’ more, nothin’ less.”

  “What I think is that enough of this shit is spreadin’ around,” Colt said. “Amy’s dead and everyone knows her as a quiet, good woman. She doesn’t need that coloring anybody’s memory of her.”

  Sully shook his head. “That won’t happen. Craig’s promised to keep it quiet and you know anyone else who knows will. Including Nowakowski.”

  “All right, Sully, all I’m askin’ is, you just keep it that way.”

  “To the grave,” Sully promised, lifting his hand like he was taking an oath.

  “Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass,” Colt told him and meant it. Sully could definitely be a pain in the ass.

  “A pain in the ass that helped score multiple counts of unlawful entry on the sick fuck who’s makin’ your and Feb’s life a livin’ hell, not to mention whatever else we can pin on him through that shit,” Sully grinned. “I’m thinkin’ a nice shot of single malt from you, or two, and an invitation to sit in on Feb’s next frittata.”

  “Feb’ll make you a frittata every day for a year, you find this guy.”

  Sully kept grinning. “Once is enough, every day’s too much of a good thing.”

  He was wrong, he hadn’t had her frittata.

  Then again, if Colt had it every morning then when would he have her stuffed French toast?

  * * * * *

  Colt was walking back to the Station from a very ticked off Mimi’s with his muffin in a white bag and his Americano when his phone rang. He shifted the bag into the same hand as the coffee, yanked out his phone and saw the display said “Feb Calling”.

  He flipped it open one-handed and put it to his ear.

  “Yeah baby.”

  “You owe me.”

  Her voice came at him, husky and still full of sleep. She’d called him first thing after waking up, her mind on what she did to him with her mouth. That knowledge and the sound of her voice hit him direct in the gut and scored straight down to his dick.

  She was right, he did. He owed her big.

  That was why he smiled into the phone, stopped at the foot of the steps to the Station, dropped his bag and set his coffee on the stone balustrade.

  “You just wake up?” Colt asked.

  “Yeah, after you hit the shower, I slept clean through until Chip started banging away.” She didn’t sound pissed. She sounded slightly surprised though he’d only hit the shower three hours ago.

  “Sorry about that, honey. New locks. New alarm.”

  “That’s okay,” she said softly.

  He took a sip of his coffee, waiting for her to say more, she didn’t so he asked, “There a reason you’re callin’?”

  “Yeah, I’m running out of clothes. Is it okay if Dad or Morrie take me to my place to pick up more?”

  Yes, it’s fucking okay, he thought.

  “Sure,” he said then warned, “but honey, it was swept. It’s probably gonna be a little less than your usual clean.”

  “Great,” she muttered.

  “Then again,” Colt teased, wanting to take her mind off it, “most operating rooms are less than your usual clean.”

  “I like order,” she replied, “especially when my life is chaos.”

  “Bullshit, Feb,” Colt kept teasing. “You’re Jackie Owens’s daughter. You like order all the fucking time.”

  “Something wrong with that?” she asked, now getting pissed. She always hated being teased which meant he used to do it a lot because she was cute when she was pissed, that was only when it was under his control.

  “Nope, nothin’ wrong with that,” Colt answered.

  She hesitated then called, “Colt?” like he wasn’t on the phone with her but she was trying to catch his attention.

  “I’m right here.”

  “Um… would you mind if I…” another pause then quickly, “clear a drawer and maybe… commandeer a few hangers?”

  Fucking hell, she wanted to move her shit in and Colt felt that in his gut too.

  “You know, so I don’t have to live out of a bag?” she finished on a rush.

  “Take as much room as you need,” Colt paused too and then said, “and bring over as much shit as you want.”

  Feb was silent a moment before she said softly, “Okay, babe.” Then she asked, “What’s your day gonna bring?”

  “So far, it’s brought more dirt on Denny, I’ll tell you about it tonight.”

  “They closer?” she asked.

  “Closin’ in.”

  “Thank God,” she whispered then, her voice stronger, “since I had an unscheduled day off yesterday, I need to be at the bar tonight. You wanna meet me there for dinner? Frank’s. On me.”

  “You’re on. Six o’clock.”

  “You want me to tell Darryl you want a tenderloin so you’ll maybe get a burger?”

  He smiled into the phone before he said, “Why don’t we try a patty melt, see what that brings?”

  He heard her laughter coming at him through the phone.

  You made her laugh, she doesn’t do that much.

  He heard Ryan’s words through Feb’s laughter. Ryan was right, it was true, Feb didn’t laugh much. Not for years and only genuinely with Palmer and Tuesday. She’d been doing it a lot more recently, mostly with him.

  “Patty Melt Mystery Dinner it is,” she cut into his thoughts after she stopped laughing. “Six o’clock. Shit!” she said suddenly, he heard the phone jostle and her far away shout. “Yeah, I’m up! Be out in a sec.” Then she came back to him. “That’s Dad, he says he wants to be briefed as to why Chip’s here.” She laughed softly again before saying, “Colt, babe, he actually used the word briefed.” Colt laughed with her the second time before she finished hurriedly and distractedly. “Better go brief Dad. See you later, love you, babe.”

  Colt froze and just managed to force out a “Later, baby,” before Feb disconnected.

  See you later, love you, babe.

  That was how she would end every phone conversation they had which were daily when she wasn’t up visiting on a weekend when she was at home and he was at Purdue.

  See you later, love you, babe.

  He knew she’d been preoccupied when she said it, slipping back into a very old habit.

  He also didn’t fucking care.

  He flipped his phone shut, shoved it in h
is back jeans pocket, grabbed his muffin and entered the Station smiling.

  * * * * *

  The phone on his desk rang; Colt picked it up, put it to his ear, looked at the name on the display on the desk set and said into the handset, “What’s up, Kath?”

  “Colt, Amy Harris’s folks just walked in. I put them in the conference room.”

  Fuck.

  He knew they’d arrived yesterday from Arizona to start making arrangements for the funeral. Yesterday, with Colt mostly out of commission, Sully had dealt with them, making an appointment for them to come and talk with Colt today at two o’clock.

  Now it was today and it was fucking two o’clock.

  “Do me a favor, ask them if they want coffee, get it for them if they do and I’ll be down in a minute.”

  “No probs, Colt,” she said and he put the phone down.

  Kath was a civilian and she worked the front desk. She had a dickhead of a husband and five kids, all of them heathens. She did her best but, the Dad they had, her kids acted out anyway, as often as they could and they were creative. When they advertised the job for the front desk, she applied for it, telling them it was a way to spend some time with her family since all of them, including her husband, sat in a cell on more than a rare occasion. They gave her the job, mostly because she was a good woman, dependable, smart and, not including her husband, her family was a good family, deep down. They just had a lot of shit to get out and, until Kath grew a backbone and kicked her husband out on his ass, she needed all the help she could get.

  Colt stood, pulled his blazer from his chair and shrugged it on. He was about to turn to the stairs when Sully walked up.

  “Candy Sheckle’s on her way in,” Sully told him.

  Colt’s brows went up. “Of her own accord?”

  “She had a shift at the club last night, just turned her phone on and, minute the Feds asked, she said she’d drop her kid off at her Mom’s and be right in.”

  “That’s helpful,” Colt remarked, surprised.

  “Super duper helpful,” Sully returned, equally surprised.

  “That’ll be an interesting interview.”

  Sully smiled. “Can’t fuckin’ wait. You gonna watch?”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  “See you there, I’ll bring the popcorn.”

  Colt shook his head and went to the stairs.

  The minute he saw Mr. and Mrs. Harris, seated but huddling together in the conference room, he knew why Craig had to carry Amy into the house, not to mention why Amy was petite. Her parents were both small. He didn’t recall either of them but, if they were as quiet and reserved as their daughter, he doubted he ever saw them but in passing and probably wouldn’t notice them.

  “They didn’t want coffee, Colt. The Mom drinks tea. You want me to run down to Mimi’s?” Kath asked as he passed.

  “You’d do that, it’d be appreciated,” Colt replied, not taking his eyes from the Harrises.

  “No trouble,” Kath said and took off.

  Mr. Harris caught his gaze while Colt made his way to the conference room. This would be difficult for more than the normal reasons. He had no intention of sharing. They didn’t need to know their daughter went through what she went through. Still, he knew it and knowing it meant this was going to be far from easy.

  He opened the door, Mrs. Harris twisted and looked up at him and Colt nodded to the both of them.

  “Thank you for coming, Mrs. Harris. Mr. Harris.”

  Mr. Harris stood, reaching out and taking a big, yellow envelope from the table.

  Without leading into it, he asked, “Can we talk privately, son?”

  Colt looked at the envelope then to Mr. Harris who looked like hell then to Mrs. Harris who surprised him. She was gazing at him steady, straight in the eye. She looked sad but she also looked thoughtful and there was a softness to her eyes that Colt thought looked immensely kind.

  Colt knew then that this was going to be more than an interview with grieving parents to ascertain if their daughter did, indeed, commit suicide so that he could file away her case, nice, neat and cozy.

  This was going to be something he was going to like a lot less even than he expected. And he expected to fucking hate every second.

  “This room is private, Mr. Harris. No one can –” Colt started.

  “No eyes,” Mrs. Harris cut in, her own eyes going to the windows.

  Fuck.

  “Of course,” Colt said, turning to open the door and gesturing through it with his arm.

  He led them up to interrogation room one, giving Sully a look and lifting his hand with his index finger extended to indicate he was taking interrogation one. Sully followed them with his eyes until he lost sight. Colt saw part of it and knew the other.

  He opened the door to interrogation one and held it for the Harrises to walk through. He followed them and closed it behind him. Mr. Harris walked to the table. Mrs. Harris stood by the door.

  Before he could speak, Mr. Harris put the envelope on the table and said, “We’ll give you a moment of privacy to read this, Alexander.”

  Alexander.

  Mr. Harris wasn’t talking to Lieutenant Colton. He was establishing the fact that he was Colt’s elder, he was doing it gently but he was the authority figure in this scenario. But it wasn’t authority he was communicating even though it wasn’t Colt’s daughter who hung herself. Mr. Harris was making a point of conveying he was there to provide support.

  No, Colt wasn’t going to fucking like this.

  Colt was looking at Mr. Harris therefore it came as a surprise when he felt Mrs. Harris’s fingers curl around his forearm. Colt’s eyes went to her, she gave him a small, sad smile, squeezed his arm and then Mr. Harris touched her shoulder, gave Colt a nod, Colt moved away from the door and they left.

  Colt walked to the envelope, feeling a bit of Ryan’s pain. Whatever was inside could easily grow teeth and bite him.

  There was nothing written on the front, the back was clasped but not sealed. Amy was long past keeping any secrets. Colt opened the clasp and slid the papers out from inside, bent his head and read Amy Harris’s suicide note:

  Colt,

  This is too late, I know, way too late. But I want you to know I’m sorry. I should have said it years ago but I didn’t and you deserve to know why. You deserve to know everything.

  I don’t know how much you do know, or you remember, but I think it’s not much from what I’ve heard and because, even after, when you saw me, you’d still smile at me. But this will explain things, I hope.

  It was me who tore you and Feb apart. Me and Denny.

  I didn’t mean to be a part of it. I didn’t even know I was. But, in the end, I had to be.

  Denny knew I liked you. I told him a long time ago. A high school crush. We were good friends, Denny and I. I talked about you, he talked about Feb. He liked her a whole lot. Said she was special and they had a special friendship but it was secret. You couldn’t know or, he said that Feb told him, you’d be angry. Now, I don’t think this was true, but then I believed him.

  It happened after that, though. You’d graduated from Purdue and we were all pretty much waiting for you two to get married. But Denny came home from Northwestern and talked to me and told me Feb had told him that things weren’t going too good between you two. Feb was going to break up with you and it would soon be over. I guess I wasn’t over my crush on you, in the end, the way things turned out. I guess that’s why I did what I did. I keep trying to figure it out and that’s what I’ve come up with.

  Denny talked me into going to that party at the Eisenhowers. Do you remember it? I’m sure you do. Denny told me to “live a little”. Normally, I wouldn’t go but when I talked to Emily, she said it would be fun. She was always trying to get me to go out. So, we went.

  I wish, Colt, so much over the years, you have to know, I wish I hadn’t.

  I saw you there, you and Feb, and it didn’t seem Denny knew what he was talking about. You two seemed fine to
me, like normal, like always.

  Later that night, Denny brought me a drink, said I needed to “loosen up”. I wasn’t much of a drinker, never was. It hit me, what he brought me, real fast. I thought it was just a beer but I don’t think it was. I couldn’t know for sure, but, at the time, I just thought I was a lightweight, getting drunk on a few sips of beer.

  Denny saw me going funny and told Emily he’d take care of me. What a laugh. Denny taking care of me. But I didn’t know then and neither did Emily. We both thought he was my friend. Some friend.

  He took me upstairs and said I should just lie down for awhile. I don’t remember it all, bits here and there, I felt so strange, like I wasn’t me. I thought he was being nice, taking care of me, a good friend. Friends don’t do what he did to me. They don’t. But I wouldn’t know that until later, when I learned Denny was not my friend at all.

  At first, I didn’t even know you were in the bed he put me in. And Colt, I swear, I promise and I swear, I don’t know how it started. But, I think I started it. I wasn’t thinking, I don’t know what I was doing. I just started kissing you. You were there and you were Colt and I think I started kissing you. I was so drunk or whatever, it’s all so fuzzy, you didn’t kiss me back, or you did, I don’t know. It didn’t hit me until later that you weren’t acting like you, you were acting like me. Like you were drunk or whatever. This is terrible and embarrassing but you have to know because I think I took advantage of you. We were moving around and somehow I got you on top of me and I liked it. I’m sorry, but I liked it, it’s just the truth and you deserve to know the truth.

  That’s when Feb walked in.

  I knew Denny was lying when I saw the look on her face. It was like she just learned someone she’d loved had died. Even being messed up, I’ll never forget the look on her face.

  Before I could say anything, she was gone and you were on top of me and I couldn’t get you off. You’d passed out and you were so big, so heavy, I couldn’t move you.

  Then Denny was there, in the room, and I know he was in the room the whole time. He saw the whole thing. He was laughing, thought it was funny. I was trying to think straight, get you off me, get to Feb. I asked him to help me but he just kept laughing, saying, “Now it’s over. Now it’s over.” He said it again and again. He sounded so happy. I knew he wasn’t right then. I knew it. Really not right. But I didn’t see it, couldn’t think straight. Not until later, what he did to me and then, a lot later, what he did to Angie.