Forbidden With Me - Leigh Lennon Page 0,7
almost a year. Yeah, call me a stalker, but the little girl grabbed my heart for the hours she clung to my neck, screaming for her parents, her sisters, and her brother. The letters only continued to strengthen the bond we shared even though I didn’t feel it was right to respond. It may have been one-sided, but knowing her life was as normal as it could be filled me with hope.
“Shanahan?” The voice calling for me is assaulting, and there’s only one person in the precinct who can say my name with such force, so much resentment, it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I ignore it a beat longer because I find my assholeness comes out in droves at even the thought of my boss, who happens to be my ex-fiancée. Reason number one to never date a co-worker because that cop may well become your boss one day. Case in point, Vanessa Shay.
“Shanahan, fuck, I know you can hear me. Get your ass in my office.” In her high-pitched cackle, I sometimes wonder why they didn’t give her a broomstick for her squad car. I push off my chair, methodically slow, then pull out my drawer and rifle through it as if this fictitious item I’m searching for is needed for the ass chewing I’m positive I don’t deserve.
In the twist of my entire body, I move slower than a snail to her office and find there’s not only the devil herself but her boss and his boss.
I’m a good cop. I have one of the highest conviction rates, which go along with my arrests. Meaning, when I solve a crime, the charges stick. The DA loves to work with me; I’m in good standing with many judges because I’ve built respect throughout the years. No one likes the pairing of my ex-fiancée as my boss, but neither one of us was willing to leave homicide. Her boss takes any formal disciplines with a grain of salt. But I haven’t fucked up in such a way to get three people from my chain of command to reprimand me and on a Sunday of all days.
With the upper brass in the room, my speed accelerates, and as I enter the office, footsteps approach me from behind. Turning around, I find Matt Montgomery. I don’t see him as much as I’d like, but I make it out as often as I can for dinner with his parents, and as all the kids have grown, their family has quadrupled in size.
We don’t have a chance to bro hug as we normally would, but he quickly whispers only for me to hear, “Fuck, I’m not sure what we both did to get called into the principal’s office on the weekend, but this can’t be good.”
I’m about to agree with him when Vanessa’s boss commences the meeting. “Detective Shanahan, shut the door.” There’s no please, no thank you, and when he points at the chairs behind us, we’re not given a choice as the two of us sit.
Glancing at Matt, I wonder what the fuck we could have done from over eight years ago when our partnership split, and he went to one department while my path led me to homicide.
“Relax, men,” Vanessa orders. “You aren’t in trouble.” Matt visibly leans against the back of the chair, moving his elbows from his knees. I stay in the hunched over position because with Vanessa, there’s always more.
“The Malia Strickland case from eleven years ago is getting some attention. You two were the first on the scene, so I need you both to go back through your reports and make sure everything is neat and orderly.”
Matt understands this is the one case I’ve never been able to let go of. My obsession has seen many days of me returning to the scene to look at everything and search for the slightest clue or for my memory to recall something deep in its unconsciousness. It was unhealthy, fuck, it’s still unhealthy, and I’m not sure if it’s because I can’t let go, or I won’t. The deep chocolate browns of the little girl and her tear-soaked cheeks is an image I wake up to several times a week even after all this time.
“Sir, can I ask after eleven years, what has come to light?” Matt is able to coherently ask the questions I can’t form on my lips.
“We always thought it was the boyfriend of the eldest daughter. As