Broken Bonds Boxed Set 1-3 (22 page)

M
y mother stirs
next to me. Light bleeds into the room through the slats of the blinds, washing the neutral colors in rich warmth.

For one happy, fleeting second, my mind is a blank slate. I’m a child again, waking up next to my mother after having slipped into her bed during the night. And then without warning—just like when I was young—the reality of the night before comes rushing back with all its nightmares.

I spring upright in bed, look down at my mom. She’s still asleep, the same way I found her when I demanded that the nurse take me to her room. After fighting sleep for most of the night, pacing the hallway, checking in on her every minute, I must have finally succumbed.

The mattress dips as I slide forward and ease off the bed. I go right for my phone only to find it dead. Shit. I didn’t think to bring a charger, and I drained the battery last night making calls to Quinn.

I told him about the UNSUB’s new threat—that the killer is targeting people connected to me. I somehow convinced him that Colton was in danger because I’d interviewed him at one point. All logic fled during my panic, and I probably gave myself away—but I had to know that I was doing everything possible short of being with Colton to keep him safe.

The threat against Colton felt real. I had to take it seriously. Seriously enough to put Quinn and his task force on alert.

I hold down the power button on my phone, desperate to fire it up with whatever juice is left. When nothing happens, I curse under my breath and glance at my mother. Something about the bright morning light assures me she’ll be safe. It’s a false assurance, I know. But now that the UNSUB got what he wanted, it’s time to make sure he’s never able to pull my strings again.

Slipping my phone into my back pocket, I lean down and place a kiss on my mother’s cheek. She’s cold to the touch. I draw the covers over her before I leave. Quinn said he wanted me at home with two unis keeping watch, so I feel confident my request for at least one to protect my mother will be approved.

The nurses think I’ve lost my mind. They give me wary looks as I walk past the reception desk.

That’s fine. I don’t mind being labeled, just as long as they take my brand of crazy seriously. I think the gun displayed on my holster helps to do just that.

M
orning traffic is hell
. I take a sip of coffee, grateful I had some at my apartment as I creep my car up an inch. I turn on the police radio and listen for any new updates while my burner phone charges on the old car charger I found at home.

When my cell blinks on in the passenger-seat, I reach for it, anxious to see a message from Colton. I move up another inch in traffic and then look down at the screen. My heart plummets to my gut. No missed calls. No texts. No anything.

As I grab my department phone, a fresh wave of panic envelops me. When I called Quinn earlier, he confirmed they kept watch over The Lair and Colton all night. He claimed there was no activity to worry about. But if that’s true, then why didn’t Colton call? Why didn’t he try to contact me?

Quinn picks up on the second ring and I dive straight in. “What is Colton Reed’s whereabouts?”

“Good morning again to you, sunshine.”

“Quinn, I’m in no mood. I need his location.”

He groans, then, “Reed is here, Bonds. I brought him in last night.”

First, a sweet breath of relief. Colton’s safe. Then, the vise-like crush of fury. “You lied to me,” I snap.

“I didn’t lie. I told you we kept a close eye on the club
and
him. Which we did.” I hear something ruffling on his end as he drags out the pause, and my anger peaks. “Look, you needed the rest. We had this under control. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

We
. Him and
Carson
.

I don’t wait to hear whatever else bullshit he has to say. I kill the call and toss my phone on the seat. I shift to see around traffic. Why the hell don’t I have a police siren!

Laying on the horn, I get the car ahead of me to pull up a bit, then I wheel my car onto the median. I’ll ride the damn side of the highway all the way to the station if I have to.

T
he department isn’t
as crowded this morning, and I take full advantage of that as I blaze my way right through the bullpen toward the interrogation rooms.

I peek my head in the first two before I find Quinn inside the observation room of the third.

“You need to release him,” I say with no preamble. “Carson had nothing to bring him in on, and you know it. I can’t believe he sucked you into his witch hunt.” I start toward Quinn, but the sight on the other side of the glass stops me short.

Colton sits at the table alone. His face is pale. Dark shadows bruise the skin beneath his eyes. He’s wearing the same clothes I saw him in yesterday, and his dark hair looks like he’s ran a hand through it all night. Despite his exhausted state, he still seems alert and calm. He’s strong. Colton is strong. His shoulders are squared. His back straight, not slumped. Just by his posture, I can tell Carson didn’t break him.

But, oh…how I’m going to break Carson.

“Where’s Carson?” I ask, turning toward Quinn.

He expels a lengthy breath. “It’s been a long night, Sadie. I need you to take it down a notch.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “You want
me
to take it down a notch? You bring in a half-cocked, asshole of a detective on a vendetta mission to work an angle behind my back, and you want me to chill?” I bite down on my tongue, cutting my rant off. “Where the hell is Carson?” I say each word slowly, making sure he hears just how insulted I am.

“Christ, Bonds.” He looks at me closely then. “I don’t care how cocky he is. Hell, I could give a shit if Carson dances in front of the cameras when we catch the killer. Just as long as we catch him and you’re safe!”

I blink. My mouth opens, and then I close it. “Quinn, we’ve worked cases like this before.”

“Not like this,” he says, his hazel eyes resolute.

A tense silence fills the observation room, and I turn toward the one-way mirror. Just a piece of glass separates me from Colton. Just a thin pane. But the truth is, we’re oceans apart. My sin separates me from everyone, especially Colton.

I look at Quinn, fearing the misery in his eyes, but I look. “Last night was a ploy to keep me away from the department, Quinn. Have you even questioned
why
?”

“I have, Sadie. Believe me, I’m not as dense as you’d like to think. Old and rusty, but I’m still in the game.” We share a smile, and that loosens some of the stifling veracity gripping me. “Yes, I’ve been working out why you needed to be kept away, so I need that phone, Bonds.”

I nod. “I’ll get it to the techs. They can try to trace—”

“No,” he says, moving in closer as he extends his hand. “I need you to hand it over.”

Taken aback, I stare up at him with narrowed eyes. “What are you saying?”

With a loud exhale, Quinn rubs the back of his neck. “You’re off the case.”

“Like hell. I’m the only link you have…the only person the UNSUB has contacted—”

“And that’s exactly why I’m pulling you off.”

We lock gazes for a stretch of time where neither one of us is willing to yield. Then Quinn breaks the silence as he nods toward Colton. “You’re involved with him.” The accusation is clear in his voice.

I don’t waver. “I am.” It feels right to say. Hearing myself voice it aloud is a liberation I never thought I’d own.

He shakes his head. “Then you can’t be here, Bonds. I don’t care how it happened or when, but the fact is, you need to leave. Now.”

“So this is the real reason,” I say. Disappointment festers bitterly in my stomach.

“Do you want to spend another night fearing for people connected to you? Or fearing the next message? What about all those victims. All those women… Do you even stop to think that could end up being you?” He turns his head away, his jaw locked hard. When he looks at me again, he’s forcefully composed. “I need you off the case so I can fucking think clearly to do my job.”

The door to the interrogation room opens, drawing both our attention to the glass.

“Who the hell…?” Quinn says.

I run a trembling hand over my hair, collecting myself. “Julian Reed’s lawyer,” I answer him. His gaze swings to me. “Maybe you gave Colton a phone call, maybe you didn’t. But Julian wasn’t notified. His brother needed to know that he had been brought in.”

Anger flushes Quinn’s face, his nostrils flare. “Get out.”

I lift my chin, though I’m admittedly shaken by his terse treatment. Regardless, I keep my convictions close, bolstering my resolve. “You’re the one who asked me to dig into his past, Quinn. And what I found may be problematic to you. His work, his past, our involvement…may all be suspicious, because it veers into a realm that you see as risky. It doesn’t fit into your neat and orderly box.” I step closer to him. “But that’s not reason enough to subject him to this interrogation. Carson has no solid evidence on either him or his brother.”

“No solid evidence, no. But we follow the leads, Bonds. We follow each one until we reach the end, and you just interfered with police procedure. Do you get that?” He pauses, letting the weight of my action sink in. “I’m not giving Carson the reins here. Colton Reed is not just related to a suspect from another case—he’s also the neighbor of a victim. That’s a lead outside of the club angle that we have to investigate. It just happens to involve the same damn person. Which is just too much of a coincidence for my liking, and I’m going to pursue all leads. That’s the job.”

I grit my teeth, unable to deny his deduction. It looked bad before Colton had a connection to a past case. Now…I’ll need more than a circumstantial defense to convince Quinn of Colton’s innocence. He’ll chew the bone and suck the marrow until he’s exhausted this angle. It’s how he operates.

“Plus,” Quinn continues. “The UNSUB contacted you while we had Colton in the interrogation box. Have
you
even considered why that is yet? Think about it.”

I spent most of the night thinking. Going over the past, reliving the previous two weeks. Analyzing everything I could’ve missed two years ago up until the second where I was made to guard my mother from a sadistic killer. And the fact is, Julian very well could be involved, but I have my doubts it’s how Carson believes. Only Quinn won’t understand those doubts. Not without the key piece of information I have—the link I was only able to uncover yesterday.

With that information, the task force could narrow down the suspect pool—but it means incriminating myself. Damn those choices.

“Carson thinks Julian is trying to frame his brother. Do you know how very absurd that sounds?” I ask. “How many serial killer cases have you worked where the killer just handed over credit to someone else?”

Quinn wipes his hands down his face. “It’s the only lead we have.”

Choice made. I pull in a breath. “No, it’s not,” I say, and he looks at me. “Lyle Connelly.”

“Lyle Connelly. Lyle Connelly.” He repeats the name, trying to make a connection. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Two years ago, in Roanoke, I profiled the killer and Connelly matched the profile.”

Quinn shakes his head. “Shit, Bonds. Not this again.” He groans, turning away from me.

“Just…” I hang my head, then look back up at him. “Work the profile, Quinn. Amend it to meet the need for two killers, and work it.”

The lawyer knocks on the mirror, and Quinn knocks back to let him know he’s coming. Then, he holds out his hand to me. “Your phone.”

With notable frustration, I reach into my back pocket and then slap my cell into his hand.

His lips thin as his gaze sweeps over me. “Just get out and stay away from this case, Sadie.”

My back tenses at the edge in his words. Quinn and I have had our disagreements; we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but damn if I didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt that he’s not only a better detective, but a better man than this.

With nothing more said between us, I exit the monitoring room just as Colton is escorted into the hallway by his brother’s lawyer. Our eyes meet, and for a brief second, I glimpse shame in his pale blues. There’s so much I want to say right now to take that shame away…but this isn’t the right moment.

I offer him a wan smile before he’s led in the opposite direction. A searing burn fills my chest cavity, and I press my hand over it, trying to sever my connection to Colton. It would be easier if he weren’t involved. I’ve never had to consider casualties before—or I just never allowed myself to think about the damage.

I was once a damaged casualty in a case. So many options, so many paths…and I chose the one where I could forget what it’s like to relate to a victim. I thought it was survival, but my captor understood. The monster was always stirring.

Screw it. The whole department can gossip if they want. I take off after him, my feet moving me in the surest direction of my life.

Carson was right about another thing: gut instinct is still the most reliable tool. And ever since I delved into Colton’s past, my gut instinct has been to protect him. Regardless if I can prove his innocence or not, despite the fact that I have Avery running comparison tests on his rope right now—he’s not a killer.

I’m not nearly as strong as I once was. Not nearly as confident in my purpose. Past cases have stripped me of the passion I once harbored for my job. But I’ve been forged out of pain and suffering, and that is the one thing I can recognize in another. Colton has suffered. His pain speaks to mine. And it says more than we might ever admit aloud to each other.

He stops at the front desk to collect his things, and I know he can feel me, even though he won’t look my way. “I’m tired, Sadie,” he says.

“I know.” I slip my hand into his, and he grasps ahold of it tightly. “I’m taking you home.” I note the rough feel of a bandage and look down. His hand is wrapped in gauze.

“Did Carson—?”

“No,” he answers quickly. “I had it out with a mirror at the club.”

I bring his hand up and place a kiss to his bandaged knuckles, then his palm.