hard.
“You bastard.”
“Yeah, we already covered that one today.” He sounded bored. He lifted the cup to his mouth again, and she fought the urge to knock it out of his hand, to scream at him, make him take back those awful, damning words. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to get herself under control, trying to smother the sob that wanted to be set free.
“Let’s get one more thing out in the open, Madeline.” He leaned to set the cup in the holder. “I have no intention of letting your impulsivity and lack of foresight get me killed. I have a boy at home, and I’ll be damned if he grows up without me because you did something stupid. If it comes down to me or you, I have no problem telling you that I’m the one walking away. So don’t get any delusions that we’re partners or anything more than what we are—two cops with distinctly separate agendas. Don’t think I’ll ever make the mistake of trusting you again.”
Without reply, she turned the key in the ignition, her hands shaking. She’d barely pulled onto the highway when the radio crackled. “Chandler to C-2.”
He reached for the mike. “Go ahead, Chandler.”
“We have a possible 10-109D, 183 Miller Court.” At the ten code for a death, Madeline’s ears pricked up.
“Affirmative, Chandler. C-2, C-4, en route.” He replaced the microphone and gestured toward the intersection ahead. “Turn left—”
“I know where it is.”
She flipped the lights on but left the siren silent, and increased her speed, taking the turns smoothly. Anticipation of a different sort flickered through her. She was a homicide detective, after all. This was what she lived for.
The small ranch house at 183 Miller had been the town’s rental whore as long as Madeline could remember. No one lived there permanently—people moved in, stayed weeks or months, and moved on. The result was the little house’s forlorn air, as though it was always waiting to be abandoned once more.
Damn, it was sad when she could relate to an inanimate building.
Shaking off the depressing musings, she shifted into park at the curb and swung out of the car to join Tick on the walk. Moving boxes sat stacked next to a large rolling trashcan. Tick approached slowly, one hand on his unsnapped holster, his gaze flicking over the front of the house.
The front door swung open, and Madeline tensed, reaching for her own gun. Something familiar about the woman who stepped onto the porch tugged at Madeline’s remembrance, and she frowned. That wasn’t…it couldn’t be.
No fucking way.
The cosmos couldn’t be out to get her that much.
Sunlight glimmered off bottled-blonde hair that needed a root touch-up. The woman’s big blue eyes locked onto Tick with the speed of a homing missile and Madeline stiffened further. Shit damn fuck .
Obviously, the cosmos wasn’t through with its weird joke on her yet.
The blonde stopped on the top step, a hand over her heart. “Oh my Lord, Tick Calvert. I am so glad to see it’s you. There is a skeleton under my house.”
Fucking hell, it was her. From the sudden tightening of Tick’s posture, Madeline was sure he’d recognized her as well. Madeline sucked in a deep breath. This was not going to be pretty.
Tick stopped, one hand still resting on his holster, one foot on the bottom step. “Allison?”
She nodded, a wild blend of emotions passing over her face—fear, surprise, reminiscence, attraction, longing. “Yes, I just moved back a few days ago to take a job at McGee’s.” She waved a hand behind her. “I’m renting until I find something permanent and I went into the crawlspace to look at the pipes—I was afraid there was a leak—and there is a body under there.”
“You mentioned a skeleton?” At Madeline’s question, Allison Barnett turned her attention on her. Madeline squared her shoulders under the rabid hatred that filled the woman’s blue gaze as soon as recognition sank in.
“Yes.” Allison shifted her gaze back
“You bastard.”
“Yeah, we already covered that one today.” He sounded bored. He lifted the cup to his mouth again, and she fought the urge to knock it out of his hand, to scream at him, make him take back those awful, damning words. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to get herself under control, trying to smother the sob that wanted to be set free.
“Let’s get one more thing out in the open, Madeline.” He leaned to set the cup in the holder. “I have no intention of letting your impulsivity and lack of foresight get me killed. I have a boy at home, and I’ll be damned if he grows up without me because you did something stupid. If it comes down to me or you, I have no problem telling you that I’m the one walking away. So don’t get any delusions that we’re partners or anything more than what we are—two cops with distinctly separate agendas. Don’t think I’ll ever make the mistake of trusting you again.”
Without reply, she turned the key in the ignition, her hands shaking. She’d barely pulled onto the highway when the radio crackled. “Chandler to C-2.”
He reached for the mike. “Go ahead, Chandler.”
“We have a possible 10-109D, 183 Miller Court.” At the ten code for a death, Madeline’s ears pricked up.
“Affirmative, Chandler. C-2, C-4, en route.” He replaced the microphone and gestured toward the intersection ahead. “Turn left—”
“I know where it is.”
She flipped the lights on but left the siren silent, and increased her speed, taking the turns smoothly. Anticipation of a different sort flickered through her. She was a homicide detective, after all. This was what she lived for.
The small ranch house at 183 Miller had been the town’s rental whore as long as Madeline could remember. No one lived there permanently—people moved in, stayed weeks or months, and moved on. The result was the little house’s forlorn air, as though it was always waiting to be abandoned once more.
Damn, it was sad when she could relate to an inanimate building.
Shaking off the depressing musings, she shifted into park at the curb and swung out of the car to join Tick on the walk. Moving boxes sat stacked next to a large rolling trashcan. Tick approached slowly, one hand on his unsnapped holster, his gaze flicking over the front of the house.
The front door swung open, and Madeline tensed, reaching for her own gun. Something familiar about the woman who stepped onto the porch tugged at Madeline’s remembrance, and she frowned. That wasn’t…it couldn’t be.
No fucking way.
The cosmos couldn’t be out to get her that much.
Sunlight glimmered off bottled-blonde hair that needed a root touch-up. The woman’s big blue eyes locked onto Tick with the speed of a homing missile and Madeline stiffened further. Shit damn fuck .
Obviously, the cosmos wasn’t through with its weird joke on her yet.
The blonde stopped on the top step, a hand over her heart. “Oh my Lord, Tick Calvert. I am so glad to see it’s you. There is a skeleton under my house.”
Fucking hell, it was her. From the sudden tightening of Tick’s posture, Madeline was sure he’d recognized her as well. Madeline sucked in a deep breath. This was not going to be pretty.
Tick stopped, one hand still resting on his holster, one foot on the bottom step. “Allison?”
She nodded, a wild blend of emotions passing over her face—fear, surprise, reminiscence, attraction, longing. “Yes, I just moved back a few days ago to take a job at McGee’s.” She waved a hand behind her. “I’m renting until I find something permanent and I went into the crawlspace to look at the pipes—I was afraid there was a leak—and there is a body under there.”
“You mentioned a skeleton?” At Madeline’s question, Allison Barnett turned her attention on her. Madeline squared her shoulders under the rabid hatred that filled the woman’s blue gaze as soon as recognition sank in.
“Yes.” Allison shifted her gaze back
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