trade all his good cases in order to get your crappy one.”
I sighed. “I don’t know why I was dumb enough to think he wouldn’t do exactly that. Of course he’d want this case. He can use it as his final grandstand against me.”
RayHart hated me. If he could finally prove I was the dope freak he thought I was, or at the very least engaged in something highly illegal, it would make his whole existence. I’d unwittingly become his number one focus during my short eighteen months on the police force. In hindsight, joining the PD had been the most foolish vocation I could’ve ever chosen. But I’d been young and eager to show the world what I had to offer, and unfortunately, even though I hadn’t been full blooded, I’d still been a female born to an enhanced gene pool, which meant I could run faster than any of my human male counterparts, jump higher, lift more than I should be able to, and to top it off, I had better instincts.
According to Raymond Hart, the only rational explanation for “stunts like that” was my being a total crackhead or speed junkie. I must’ve been doped up on some kind of a superdrug to perform feats like that, and even though I’d willingly subjected myself to multiple drug tests, and worked actively on my defense—in the end, the only option left for me was to quit.
But it’d been too late to shake Ray.
After I’d departed from the police force, along with Nick, who had joined with me, Ray had kept me in his sights. For reasons unbeknownst to me, he wasn’t willing to let it go. There were rumors he still took home police footage of me in unexplainable situations, either clearing a six-foot fence with relative ease, or of me explaining how I tracked a perp to an undisclosed location with nothing but my eyes and ears to guide me.
The man was irrationally obsessed, which was a dangerous thing for him to be, especially in light of my recent lifestyle changes.
I glanced at my phone on the dashboard, laying where I’d tossed it. “There’s one more message on my phone,” I said. “It said I had seven, but I only listened to six.” I knew without having to check it was Ray. I glanced over at the driver’s seat. “I’m going to have to listen to it, aren’t I?”
“Ifyou want a decent heads-up, you do. If not, feel free to let it go.”
I reluctantly plucked my phone off the dashboard. “I need some alcohol for this.”
Nick laughed. “Sorry, but all the Jack is at home.”
Ray’s tenor spread like oil into my eardrum. “Hannon, it’s Hart. By now you should know your apartment has been trashed by someone and their goddamn pet. You appear to be
camping
.” He let that one sit for a second, his glee prickling me through the phone. “When you get your ass out from wherever you are, call me. I need a formal statement. No more fucking around.”
Click.
That was it.
A good cop knew a crime like this one was personal, and unfortunately Ray was a good cop. Nobody trashed your furniture and personal possessions except a scorned lover, a drug dealer you owed serious money to, or a sick bastard with a vendetta—and they’d brought their
pet
, no less. Who brings their animal to a premeditated crime? The only thing running in my favor, the one thing casting a shadow of doubt on the investigation and my possible connection to it, was thanks to the talented Marcy. My most personal space, my bedroom, had been left intact. The place you lay your head is the first place someone goes for revenge.
Damn, I was really going to have to pay her more.
“Ray’s never going to buy that a stranger did that to your place,” Nick said.
“I know.” I ran my hands through my hair. “The only solution is to continue with the personal angle. We’ll have to dig up a former pissed-off target who had motive to break into my house—which shouldn’t be too hard. There wasn’t an actual burglary, so there’ll be no need to press formal charges.”
“And willthis mystery person
I sighed. “I don’t know why I was dumb enough to think he wouldn’t do exactly that. Of course he’d want this case. He can use it as his final grandstand against me.”
RayHart hated me. If he could finally prove I was the dope freak he thought I was, or at the very least engaged in something highly illegal, it would make his whole existence. I’d unwittingly become his number one focus during my short eighteen months on the police force. In hindsight, joining the PD had been the most foolish vocation I could’ve ever chosen. But I’d been young and eager to show the world what I had to offer, and unfortunately, even though I hadn’t been full blooded, I’d still been a female born to an enhanced gene pool, which meant I could run faster than any of my human male counterparts, jump higher, lift more than I should be able to, and to top it off, I had better instincts.
According to Raymond Hart, the only rational explanation for “stunts like that” was my being a total crackhead or speed junkie. I must’ve been doped up on some kind of a superdrug to perform feats like that, and even though I’d willingly subjected myself to multiple drug tests, and worked actively on my defense—in the end, the only option left for me was to quit.
But it’d been too late to shake Ray.
After I’d departed from the police force, along with Nick, who had joined with me, Ray had kept me in his sights. For reasons unbeknownst to me, he wasn’t willing to let it go. There were rumors he still took home police footage of me in unexplainable situations, either clearing a six-foot fence with relative ease, or of me explaining how I tracked a perp to an undisclosed location with nothing but my eyes and ears to guide me.
The man was irrationally obsessed, which was a dangerous thing for him to be, especially in light of my recent lifestyle changes.
I glanced at my phone on the dashboard, laying where I’d tossed it. “There’s one more message on my phone,” I said. “It said I had seven, but I only listened to six.” I knew without having to check it was Ray. I glanced over at the driver’s seat. “I’m going to have to listen to it, aren’t I?”
“Ifyou want a decent heads-up, you do. If not, feel free to let it go.”
I reluctantly plucked my phone off the dashboard. “I need some alcohol for this.”
Nick laughed. “Sorry, but all the Jack is at home.”
Ray’s tenor spread like oil into my eardrum. “Hannon, it’s Hart. By now you should know your apartment has been trashed by someone and their goddamn pet. You appear to be
camping
.” He let that one sit for a second, his glee prickling me through the phone. “When you get your ass out from wherever you are, call me. I need a formal statement. No more fucking around.”
Click.
That was it.
A good cop knew a crime like this one was personal, and unfortunately Ray was a good cop. Nobody trashed your furniture and personal possessions except a scorned lover, a drug dealer you owed serious money to, or a sick bastard with a vendetta—and they’d brought their
pet
, no less. Who brings their animal to a premeditated crime? The only thing running in my favor, the one thing casting a shadow of doubt on the investigation and my possible connection to it, was thanks to the talented Marcy. My most personal space, my bedroom, had been left intact. The place you lay your head is the first place someone goes for revenge.
Damn, I was really going to have to pay her more.
“Ray’s never going to buy that a stranger did that to your place,” Nick said.
“I know.” I ran my hands through my hair. “The only solution is to continue with the personal angle. We’ll have to dig up a former pissed-off target who had motive to break into my house—which shouldn’t be too hard. There wasn’t an actual burglary, so there’ll be no need to press formal charges.”
“And willthis mystery person
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