Authors: R.L. Mathewson
making it worse for everyone and setting herself up for heartache when the kid went too far
and even she couldn't help him.
"Has he lawyered up yet?" Tristan asked, taking another quick look at the list of charges.
"No, I don't think the mom can afford it," Jonathan said. "The kid doesn't have a job and
she's supporting him on a secretary's salary."
"He ask us to supply him with a lawyer yet?" Tristan asked as he handed Marty the file,
already knowing that she was eager to see what they had.
She had a good work ethic and was very thorough. Now that he'd decided that he was
going to keep her in his life, he actually realized that having her around the department was
a good thing. If she tried to leave, he'd just follow after her. Some people might call it
stalking, but he'd rather refer to it as keeping what was his and making sure that no other
asshole went near her. Now he just had to figure out how to make sure that she wanted to
stay with him since he did have a tendency of being an asshole and driving people away.
"No," Jonathan said, shaking his head. "But he also isn't talking. I think he's expecting his
mother to get him out of this."
"Probably," Tristan agreed with a tired sigh as he grabbed a legal pad and a pen off his
desk.
"I'll go move him to room five, Detective," Jonathan said, sending Marty a nod before he
left.
"Guess you'll be sending me out to pick up lunch," Marty said, noticeably fighting back a
yawn.
"Looks that way," he agreed, reaching over to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
He opened his mouth to ask her about going along with him tonight, but she looked so
damn tired. If she didn't get some rest soon she'd be too tired to make love tonight. Since he
was pretty sure that he'd die if he didn't make love to her tonight that meant that he was
going to have to drop her off at home, his home of course, and suggest that she take a nap.
He nearly swore when the idea of Marty, naked and lying in his bed, had his cock twitching.
"Do you mind if I grab a cup of coffee before I join you?"
"No, that's fine, baby. Take your time," he said, leaning in and giving her a quick kiss
simply because he could.
When he moved to step away, she leaned up and gave him a quick, playful kiss, before
handing the file back to him and heading for the door. "I just need two minutes," she said,
sending him a sweetly shy smile.
"You got it," he murmured distractedly as he watched her go.
"Excuse me? Detective?" a vaguely familiar woman in her late forties, who looked tired,
but was trying not to show it as she forced a smile and stepped into the doorway, said.
"Can I help you?" he asked, as he wracked his brain, trying to figure out where he knew
her from.
"Yes," she said, looking oddly relieved. "My son is Justin Erickson and I believe there's
been a misunderstanding," she said, sounding hopeful as she tried to hide the fact that her
hands were shaking.
Tristan nearly groaned when he realized that this woman was his suspect's mother. He
already had too much shit to work on today and didn't need to add this woman's bullshit
attempts to get her son out of trouble added to the list.
"If you could have a seat in the waiting area," Tristan said, stepping out of his office and
giving the woman no other choice but to back up as he gestured towards the small sitting
area by the doors, "I'll be happy to speak with you as soon as I get a chance."
"B-but, if you could just give me five minutes of your time, Detective, I'm sure that I can
help clear this up," she said, almost desperately and he couldn't help but feel bad for the
woman. That is until she turned slightly to the right and the sunlight steaming in from the
windows hit her in just the right way.
It felt like a physical blow as recognition him, hard. For a moment he could only stare at
the woman in front of him. There were strands of grey shooting through her blonde hair
now and the blue eyes he used to remember as vivid and bright were now dull and tired, but
it was her.
"Detective?" she said, drawing his attention to the fact that he was standing there staring
at her.
He gave himself a mental shake as he forced himself to focus. "Why don't we speak in
my office?" he asked, turning around and opened his office door, thankful to have
something to distract him, even for a moment.
With a grateful smile, she did just that. Tristan was just about to close the office door
when he spotted Marty with a large coffee mug in her hand, heading towards the back
rooms. For a moment he considered letting her go, but then he realized that he needed her,
probably more than ever.
"Marty, could you come here for a moment?" he asked, grabbing her attention just as she
was about to walk through the door to the back rooms.
"Of course," Marty said with a polite smile when she spotted Mrs. Erickson standing next
to him.
He waited until Marty walked into the room, throwing him a questioning look. As he shut
the door and took a deep breath, he prayed that he would be able to get through this
without screaming at this woman for all the bullshit she'd put him through, the way she’d
pulled away from him, made it more than obvious that he wasn't worth her love and
protection, or even a comforting shoulder to cry on when the pain was too much and he
was terrified. But none of that mattered now, he reminded himself as he forced himself to
relax and sit down so that he could do his job.
"You wanted to speak with me?" he asked, getting to the matter at hand so he could get
this woman out of his hair and back out of his life.
"Why don't you tell him what the little bastard did to your arm?" a man that he didn't
recognize demanded as he stepped through the wall. Tristan watched as the ghost walked
over and stood over the woman that Tristan would gladly walk away from.
"Ever since his father died, Justin has had problems accepting his loss," Mrs. Erickson
started as the man dressed in an old Red Sox tee shirt and grey sweatpants shot the woman
a look of disbelief.
"Are you fucking kidding me with this?" the man demanded, leaning down to get in the
woman's face, but of course she couldn’t see him. "I've been dead for ten goddamn years!
And before that he was a spoiled little brat!"
"Does he have a juvenile record?" Tristan asked, already having a good idea that he did.
The man stood up with a snort as the woman's eyes shifted away from him. "Nothing
serious," she mumbled.
"Nothing serious?" the man repeated in disbelief. "Attacking his teacher and setting her
house on fire isn't serious?"
Mrs. Erickson licked her lips anxiously as she sat forward and sent him and Marty an
imploring look. "You have to understand. It's been really hard for Justin. He's had a tough
childhood."
"Tough childhood? You do everything for the little bastard, but wipe his ass!" the man
snapped, throwing his hands up in disgust as he walked away and began pacing back and
forth through the desks.
"Do you have any other children, Mrs. Erickson?" Tristan asked, unable to help himself.
She looked right at him as she said, "No, he's an only child."
Chapter
22
"No, he's an only child," the perp’s mother answered seconds before Tristan's jaw
clenched tightly shut and the cold expression that Marty was now familiar with took over.
"Is there anything that you'd like to tell me about the charges against your son?" Tristan
asked in a flat tone as he kept a level look on the woman that seemed to unnerve her a bit.
"Just that I know that my son didn't do any of those things. He's a very good boy," she
rushed to explain.
With a sigh, Tristan stood up. "He's a twenty year old man, Mrs. Erickson and unless
you were there I'm afraid that I can't help you," he said, already heading for the door.
"But, he doesn't deserve this!" the woman snapped as she got to her feet to follow
Tristan.
Tristan simply ignored her and kept walking away, but instead of walking towards the
holding rooms, he walked towards Hank’s office. Before he reached the door, Hank walked
out, frowning when he saw Tristan.
"Is everything okay?" her father asked.
Tristan shook his head, surprising Marty, but he shocked her a second later when he
handed the file over to Hank. "Have someone else handle this."
"Why?" Hank asked, but Tristan obviously wasn't planning on sticking around to explain
it to him.
"Read the suspect's mother's maiden name," was all Tristan said before he walked past
her, acting as if he didn't see her or even care that she was there.
"Son of a bitch!" she heard her father snap and, as much as she would have loved to ask
her father what was going on, she had to deal with another problem.
"Detective, I just need ten minutes of your time," the suspect's mother said, stepping in
front of Tristan and cutting him off.
"You can't have it," Tristan said, moving to step past the woman, but she was too
determined to get her way to notice that Tristan was seconds away from tearing off her
head.
"We're talking about my son's future here. I think the least you could do-"
"I'm off the case. If you have any questions, you'll have to speak with the chief," Tristan
said, moving once again to step past her and when Mrs. Erickson went to stop him this
time, he simply ignored her and kept walking until he was in his office and the door
slammed shut behind him.
Marty ignored Mrs. Erickson as her expression turned determined and she moved to go
after Tristan, but she didn't make it two feet before her father went after her.
"Let him cool down," Hank said, handing her the suspect's file.
"But,-"
"Just let him cool down for now," Hank said, gesturing for her to go to his office. "Let
him sort through this on his own," he said quietly as he walked past her. Before she could
ask him what was going on, the suspect's mother was begging Hank to speak with her.
As much as she wanted to go to Tristan, her father was right. He obviously needed time
to calm down. When the time came and he needed her, he would go to her.
At least, Marty hoped he would.
-
-
-
"I thought we were past this, lad," Shayne said as Tristan forced his eyes to remain on
the file in front of him, ignoring his phone as it continued to ring.
"Do ye want to talk about it, lad?" Shayne asked as he pulled up a chair at the kitchen
table. Tristan didn't need to look up to know that Shayne was watching him with pity.
He didn't need pity. He needed to work and he couldn't do that with Shayne hanging
around, watching him like he was going to lose it. He wasn't. Today might not have been
the best day of his life, but he'd already moved on. He was over it and didn't need a fucking
sitter.
"Everything's fine, Shayne," he said, hoping the man would take him at his word and
leave him alone so that he could work through the rest of the files. He was more than
halfway done and he'd like to finish them before he called it a night.
"If everything's fine, then why aren't ye with Marty?"
"Because I have work to do," Tristan said, gesturing to the large stacks of files covering
the small kitchen table.
"Last time I checked, lad, she was supposed to work with ye so why isn't she here?"
"She needed some rest," Tristan said, absently as he sorted through the files.
"That doesn't sound like Marty," Shayne mused.
"It wasn't her choice to make," Tristan said, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to
stay focused and not think about the hurt look Marty shot him when he’d walked past her
without saying a word to her.
He knew that she wanted to know what happened. He should have said something to her,
but he just couldn't talk about it, hadn’t wanted to talk about it. There was already enough
bullshit in his life without dredging up the past.
"Why are ye pushing her away?" Shayne asked softly.
"I'm not pushing her away," Tristan said, praying that Marty realized that, since the last
thing that he wanted to do was lose her. He loved her, wanted to spend the rest of his life
with her, but this just wasn't something that he wanted to talk about.
Right now he needed some space and he knew that he was already fucking this up, but
he couldn't help it. He didn't want to deal with anyone at the moment, even Marty. It was
because he loved her that he was pulling away from her right now. She was going to have
to deal with enough bullshit to be with him, he didn't need to add to it with something that
shouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things, but it did. Today was just another reminder