Pretty Dead (16 page)

Before the day was over, his sister would send him a message followed by an e-mail. Not because she didn’t want to bother with a call, but because she understood that he couldn’t talk. And maybe she couldn’t talk either.

In the office, David wondered if Elise was aware of the significance of the date. Probably not. She didn’t seem to be a person who clung to dates. He wished he could be that way, but as the day progressed, his agitation increased. If things had been normal, he wouldn’t have come to work at all, but with a killer on the loose, nothing was normal.

He wanted to leave. Just walk out, get in his car, and drive to the nearest bar. Once there, he’d drink himself under the table. Black out. That was the best way to handle these things. Knock yourself out until the day was done.

May twelfth. Just a date.

That was what he always told himself.

Christian was dead. He’d been dead yesterday and he was dead today and he would still be dead tomorrow. So what difference did the date make? It didn’t. It shouldn’t.

But it did.

David must have been acting weird, because off and on throughout the morning he caught Elise giving him odd glances. At one point he even caught Jay Thomas shooting Elise a mimed question to which she replied with a shrug.

“Are you okay?” she finally asked once they were alone together.

Should he tell her what day it was? Nah, because then he’d have to go through the sympathy stuff. He hated the sympathy stuff. It was weird, because in some way his strong reaction to this date was almost like saying he didn’t grieve for his son the rest of the year, when in truth he ached for him every second, with every breath. The loss of Christian was the blackness David would carry in his soul every moment for the rest of his life—a hollowness that would always be there. Today was no different from yesterday. Somebody had just turned on the spotlight.

Instead of cutting himself open in front of Elise, he said, “I’m feeling a little off, that’s all.” Then he excused himself and left the office.

Maybe he should have stayed, because upon stepping out the front door of Savannah PD, he almost crashed into Vic Lamont, who was heading inside.

“Hey, Gould.”

Up until that moment, David felt he’d done a decent job of keeping his feelings about Lamont to himself. But now, seeing the guy like this, breezing in as if he belonged there, David said, “Your profile is bullshit.”

David didn’t slow down, just kept walking in the direction of Colonial Park Cemetery behind the police station.

Even though David knew it wasn’t fair, he’d always hold Lamont indirectly responsible for Christian’s death. Follow the thread, and the thread led back to Lamont’s sleeping with David’s wife. Maybe he should bring that up, David thought. About how today’s date might not have any significance if Vic Lamont hadn’t told Beth he would have taken their relationship to the next level if not for her kid.

Angry footsteps told David that Lamont was following him. In the cemetery, David turned to see the guy barreling down on him, his face red. Not a surprise, considering Lamont’s massive ego.

“I’m here because
you
can’t do your job.” Lamont pointed at David’s chest. “And the only reason you’re here is because you’re sleeping with the boss.”

Ooh-hoo!

“Yeah, that’s right,” Lamont said. “It’s no secret. Know what else? You were never a good profiler. You blew that case in Puget Sound. You should have had that guy. And your wife? Don’t get me started about that. About how you were
living
with her and didn’t see what she was. So shut the hell up about my profiling. If you were as good as you think you are, your kid would still be alive.”

For the past few years, David’s entire existence had been about control, or rather about always feeling on the verge of a meltdown, always feeling he was just one breath away from losing it.

It felt good to let go.

To finally just say,
Come on. Jump. Fall. Stop fighting yourself. Let it happen
. He had just enough cognizance to realize that this was how murderers felt. This was how it happened. It wasn’t that one day they just decided to do something aberrant. No, it was that one day they decided to
no longer stop themselves
. And once they experienced that total release, the total embracing of who they were deep down and dark, they realized they were free.

To finally punch that asshole Vic Lamont in the face? It felt great. Should have done it years ago.

And to see the expression on the guy’s face? That comical look of shock, followed by indignant anger? Oh yeah.

It was a solid hit, but David was still surprised when Lamont went down, landing with a loud exhale, laid out flat on his back in the grass.

David had little time to enjoy the scene, though, because Lamont didn’t stay down. He scrambled to his feet and charged, not with any technique, but rather an angry animal kind of thing, his head aimed at David’s stomach.

This time they both crashed to the ground. And damn if every punch of Lamont’s fist didn’t feel good. After a point, David wasn’t even sure if he was hitting back anymore. Maybe he was just lying there, enjoying being pummeled.

It didn’t take long for the commotion to draw the attention of more than just tourists wandering through the cemetery, cameras in hand. Pretty soon officers in blue were running toward them. Hands pulled Lamont away, and David almost laughed at the looks of astonishment when they saw that David was the one getting the shit beaten out of him.

“That son of a bitch attacked me,” Lamont said, his arms pinned, jacket torn, nose bleeding.

David panned the crowd from his position on the ground, stopping when his gaze landed on Jay Thomas Paul. Big eyes—and that goddamn camera. David made a mental note to delete the journalist’s files. Or maybe just smash his camera.

“Did you attack him?” The question came from none other than Major Hoffman, undoubtedly alerted by the noise.

David wiped at his nose and checked the back of his hand for blood, happy to see quite a bit. “Yep,” he said. “I threw the first punch.” He felt euphoric.

“In my office. Just you.” Hoffman turned and strode away.

This wouldn’t end well.

David stumbled to his feet, lurched forward, steadied himself, then aimed for the police station.

He felt better than he’d felt all day. Better than he’d felt all week.

“Shut the door behind you,” Hoffman said once they were both inside her office. The sound of the closing door was even more ominous than usual. There would be no reaching into his pants today.

Hoffman sat at her desk, her expression stern. “Badge and gun.”

“What?”

“I want your badge and gun. On the desk. Now.”

“Isn’t that a bit of an overreaction?”

The anger in her face increased, and he could almost hear her teeth gnashing. “You know why we hired you?” She answered her own question. “We hired you because we couldn’t afford anybody else.”

“Ouch.”

“Ex-FBI was better than no FBI. Or at least that’s what I thought at the time.” She opened one drawer, searched for something, opened another, slammed it. “Your entire history wasn’t included in your file. I didn’t know everything about you until you got here. By then I thought you might as well stay.”

Another drawer. Pale blue bottle he recognized as antacid. She uncapped the lid and took a swig. “I have to admit that once I saw you, I decided to keep you for a while.”

Harsh. Nice-looking people had a whole other kind of bias to deal with.

“You ended up surprising me.” She recapped her drink. “You screwed up sometimes, and you’ve been on probation more than I can count, but you got a lot of things right. The press even called you a hero a few times. That was generous, but it reflected well on the department. I liked it.” She dropped the bottle back in her desk and slammed the drawer. “But I’m done. Take two weeks, and I’ll rethink this once I’ve cooled off. But, David, I’m afraid you aren’t a good fit here. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t look sorry.

“Is it because of us? Is that why you’re doing this?”

“Us?” She let out a scornful laugh. “There is no us. It was fun for a while, but people are talking. I can’t have that. I’m not looking for a relationship. I’ve had those, and I don’t want any more. What you and I had was handy for me. Sex, with no strings. I knew you weren’t looking for commitment either. At least not from me. But it was a bad idea, sweetie.” Her face softened on the “sweetie.” He wasn’t sure she’d ever called him that, even in the throes. “Throes.” What a weird word.

“I’m giving you fair warning.” Her eyes narrowed, and her severe expression returned. “There’s a good chance you won’t be coming back.”

CHAPTER 23

I
’m outta here,” David said.

Without looking up from her computer screen, Elise said, “Just a minute. I have a few e-mails I need to read that might be pertinent to the case. We got a handwriting match for Devro and Murphy. I’m still waiting to hear back on Chesterfield.” Apparently she’d somehow missed the drama in the cemetery.

“I’m not heading out to interview people,” David said. “I’m
leaving
leaving. In fact, I think I might get a drink.”

“It’s not even noon.” She spun around in her chair, took in the condition of his face and clothes, and barely blinked. Another day at the office.

That was when he gave her an abbreviated version of what happened in the cemetery, leaving out the words Lamont had spoken to instigate the attack.

“Hoffman put you on temporary suspension?”

“Yep. Two weeks.”

“Now? With a murderer out there?”

“You’ve got everybody you need. You’ve got the handsome and not-yet-balding FBI profiler, you’ve got the reporter from New York, you’ve got an old man with cancer who will most likely crack the case with some kind of hoodoo voodoo mojo mind-expanding spell. You’ll be fine.” He grabbed his jacket off the chair and flung it over his shoulder to demonstrate how carefree he was.

“You have blood on your face.”

He rubbed his jaw and checked his fingers. Blood crumbs.

She handed him a bottle of water and a tissue. He uncapped the bottle, wet the tissue, and began blindly cleaning his face.

“Here.” She took the tissue from him, wet it some more, and wiped the side of his cheek and under his nose, then tossed the tissue away. “You might want to change your shirt before you go to a bar.”

He looked down. “Oh, right.” Then, “Maybe people will just think I’m a sloppy eater.”

“Did you two break up?” she asked.

She was thinking the same thing he’d thought, that Hoffman was doing this out of spite.

“There was never anything to break up,” he said.

“That’s not what I heard.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Word gets around in a small town.” A rueful shake of his head. A thought about how quickly the day had changed. And how he somehow still felt better than he’d felt an hour ago. “I don’t think it was anything to do with that.”

“Then what?”

“She’s just sick of my behavior, that’s all.”

They’d done this before. Elise knew the drill. “I’ll keep you in the loop,” she told him.

“I hate to leave you hanging, but right now . . . Not sure I want to be in the loop.” For the last year Elise had talked off and on about quitting. Funny that he might be the one moving on.

“You’ll be back. I’ll bet by tomorrow she comes around. It’s not like you shot somebody. And she’s not following any protocol.”

He didn’t feel like going into the other stuff Hoffman had said. “Thanks for the bath.”

“I’m going to talk to her,” Elise said. “This is unacceptable.”

He smiled. “We made a good team.”

“Not made,
make
.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

He liked that she was going to battle for him regardless of the inevitable outcome. “Now it’s my turn to talk about opening a coffee shop. I’ll work on a name.” His hand was on the doorknob when he stopped. “Have you done the crossword for today?”

“Not yet.”

“Me neither.”

She gave him a long, penetrating look, one meant to get a suspect to confess. “Why’d you hit him?”

The question was so Elise, and it was a question Hoffman hadn’t bothered to ask. Elise wasn’t mad at him for punching Lamont. She just wanted to know why. “He had it coming. And I’d do it again.”

Out of the building and in his car, David stopped at the first bar he saw. Closed, so he hit the liquor store. Better anyway, especially when he planned to black out.

CHAPTER 24

A
fter David left, Elise met with Major Hoffman, but the woman wouldn’t budge.

“You’ve got the team you need,” Hoffman said. “Victor Lamont has been given the okay to stay on for a couple of weeks. He’ll be reporting to me, and I’ll be reporting to the mayor. Detective Avery will continue to run the task force downstairs, and you’ve got Jackson Sweet.”

“You know how I feel about Sweet,” Elise said.

“Get over it. I want Gould’s desk cleared so Agent Lamont can set up there, and I want you to make your father welcome, and I want him involved. And if you ever find a suspect to question, I want Sweet to do the questioning.” Hoffman’s voice, upon bringing up their lack of suspects, was snide and accusatory.

Had the woman totally lost her mind? First firing David, then this stuff with Sweet? “I’m the best at interrogation,” Elise reminded her.

“Not anymore. I’ve been too lenient, and I have to confess I’m beginning to regret giving you the position as head detective.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“Which I should have heeded. You didn’t want it. You made that clear. And now here we are with the mayor’s daughter dead and all our jobs on the line.”

Ah, so that was it. Major Hoffman was concerned about losing her job.

“I think it’s a bad idea to remove Gould from the case,” Elise said.

“His attitude toward Lamont was seriously hindering the investigation. Hopefully I can talk Lamont out of filing assault charges, because that’s the last thing we need right now. Admit it, Elise. Gould is a detriment.”