Somebody to Hold (Tyler Jamison #2) - April Wilson Page 0,27

prints from the scene, but so far, no matches have materialized.

As I enter the precinct building, Rose, our receptionist, flags me down and hands me a sealed white envelope. “This just came in for you, Tyler. Some guy dropped it off about twenty minutes ago.”

“Thanks.”

As I continue to my office, I glance down at the envelope, which has my name scrawled across it in heavy black ink, all caps. Once I’m inside my office, I tear open the envelope and pull out a folded slip of paper bearing a single sentence written by hand.

DO YOU REALLY THINK YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE FUCKING HIM?

As my vision narrows to the slip of paper in my hand, there’s a deafening roar in my head. I stare at the writing, at the words, as my brain tries to process them. My objectivity has flown right out the window, because this is personal. This is about Ian. And it’s a direct threat.

The note isn’t signed, but my gut tells me I know exactly who sent it. It’s utter bullshit, of course. I have no doubt of that. Turner’s just trying to get to me. Yes, he’s been interested in Ian for a while—no secret there—but Ian has never shown any interest in Turner. They danced a couple of times at Diego’s when Ian was trying to help me find out who Eric Townsend had been dating at the time he was murdered.

But, that’s all.

They danced. Nothing more.

In fact, the night Turner came on to Ian at the club, Ian escaped out the back door of the club with me. He told me he was repulsed by Turner.

No, Ian would never let Turner touch him.

Immediately, I start to worry about Ian’s safety. If Turner is fixating on him—that’s not good.

I pull out my phone and call Ian, but my call goes straight to voice mail. I try again and get the same result. I wait a few minutes and try several more times. Straight to voice mail each time. Either Ian’s phone battery is dead, or his phone is turned off.

It doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never known Ian to let his battery die. The guy charges it religiously every night before he goes to bed. But the alternative is that he intentionally turned his phone off, and that makes no sense either. He never turns his phone off.

My gaze drifts back to the note in my hand.

DO YOU REALLY THINK YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE FUCKING HIM?

“Yes, I do,” I say aloud, because I need to say the words.

The thought of Ian betraying me cuts like a knife. When Ian and I first confessed our feelings for each other, I made it clear that I’d never share him with another man, and he readily agreed we’d be exclusive. I have never once doubted him.

And I’m not going to start now.

I pick up my phone and try his number again.

Nothing.

Come on, baby. Answer your phone.

I start pacing as I contemplate my next move.

This is exactly what Turner wants—to sow distrust between me and Ian. He would love nothing more than to get Ian in his bed. Or, to make me think he’d already done so.

I pick up my phone again, but this time I call Miguel. He’s been spending a lot of time with Ian lately. He might know something.

“Hey, detective,” Miguel says when he answers. “How’s it going?”

“Do you know where Ian is?”

“At the moment, no. Why?”

“He’s not answering his phone. It’s either dead or turned off. That’s not like him.”

“Do you want me to track him down? I’d be happy to.”

“No. You’re on medical leave. You’re not supposed to be working.”

“I have a bum shoulder, detective, but I’m perfectly capable of tracking your boyfriend down. I don’t mind, really.” Miguel hesitates a moment, and then he adds, “Maybe I should.”

I don’t miss the sudden shift in his tone. “Why? Is there a problem?”

“I’m sure he’s perfectly fine. It’s just that—yesterday—I saw Brad Turner at the marina.”

Immediately, the hairs on the back of my neck rise. “Where, exactly?”

“He was on Ian’s boat when I arrived. But as soon as Turner saw me, he took off.”

“Jesus.” Ian never said a word to me about seeing Turner. The roaring in my ears gets a bit louder. “Thanks, Miguel.”

“Do you want me to look for him?”

“N0. That won’t be necessary. I’ll do it.”

“Tyler, wait.”

“What?”

“I—look, you should know. Turner had his hands on Ian. Ian looked uncomfortable, to say the least. I think he was scared. After Turner left, Ian

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