“Now calm your ass down. What I’m saying is, you are all ready to hang up your badge for your ex-partner, who is clearly as guilty as sin, and—”
“And you’re crazy.” Keliegh fanned his hand toward Maxwell as if to say, “Bah humbug.” “I don’t know what Hank and that punk Aston told you but, excuse me, Romia is a loyal cop. A good cop.”
“A cop who snapped tonight and killed a fellow officer because he touched her.”
“Oh, my ga…” Keliegh swagged his head in a negative argument. “That is so off base. You are so off base. What, did Aston and Hank tell you that too?”
Maxwell Huntington just looked at Keliegh with an expression that read,
“You can go, Detective Jack,” Maxwell Huntington, the head of IA, barked, dismissing Keliegh without further discussion. “You’re suspended until further notice.”
Keliegh stood his ground for a moment before shaking his head in disgust at this whole matter and walking out. He wasn’t sure what to feel but he knew he had to find Romia.
Chapter 7
The block was quiet, but that was somewhat normal for Romia’s neighborhood. She lived on the “good” end of the Palemos, if you wanted to call it that. But then again, Romia had little fear, so Keliegh never really worried about where she lived as much as he worried about her, as a whole. Like now, he was worried sick. His stomach was even starting to cramp up. Fighting the growing emotions, blaming it on the late-night street activities, thoughts about his career and the strong feeling he was being tailed, Keliegh didn’t give into the fact that his only focus was on Romia’s safety. Keliegh didn’t give into the fact that his concern over her was clouding his reason. Why would she have come home?
Idiot! Keliegh thought, mentally bashing himself. He just realized then, too, that he’d not even given Shashoni a second thought as he whipped into Romia’s complex.
Locking the door of his car, he looked around for stalkers. It wasn’t as if he was hard to spot. Standing an easy six three or four in flat bare feet, if he was on the run he’d be caught in a moment. Maybe that was what was bothering him about Romia. She was not the kind of person who blended in well either. Maybe that was what he found so fascinating about her. She was so…different.
Keliegh reached her door and slid his spare key in the lock. He’d had a spare since they were partners. She reluctantly gave him one after having accepted his—for emergencies, of course. One day, not long after he was promoted to detective, he found his spare on his desk; she’d returned it. He wasn’t about to do the same and return the key to her place. He had his pride, and…
“…And good thing, too,” he mumbled, turning the lock and easing the door open. Not sure if his prints were still on anything in her place, considering how long it’d been since he’d visited, he made note of all he touched: the light, the door, the chair. The chair was thrown over. “Daaaamn!” he exclaimed, noticing that more than the chair was out of place. The apartment was a mess. He could see this as soon as his eyes focused to the dim light.
The living room had been professionally, albeit ruthlessly, tossed. Looking for what? Who knows! Keliegh stepped lightly as he moved through the apartment, noting all the damage. “Cops? Why would they trash her place? This wasn’t cops. Who did this?” he asked himself, closing her refrigerator door that lay open. Romia’s bedroom was in no better condition than the living room: toiletries all over the floor, mirror on the medicine cabinet busted as if by a fist. He noticed her papers scattered all about her bed. He noticed her pictures torn off her walls; all the frames were broken. It was hard to tell if anything had been actually stolen with all the damage. Her stereo is still here, her television set…
Her answering machine was blinking. Looking around, knowing he could be tampering with possible evidence that may be be important, Keliegh pushed the play button. The caller spoke in a foreign language that Keliegh did not initially pick up.
“Wrong number, I guess,” he reasoned, continuing to look around the room. He noticed a picture Romia had of the two of them in uniform. They’d been friends a long time. He picked it up and closely examined it before tucking it in his shirt pocket. He then saw a picture of a woman holding a baby. He looked at the woman. She had Romia’s rarely shared smile. “Is this your mom?” he asked aloud. Sighing heavily, he tucked that picture in his pocket as well. “Where are you, Rome? Who did this?” he asked himself again before leaving.
Chapter 8
What a day it had been. It seemed as though whatever could go wrong went wrong. She had tried with all her might to make it to the wedding, or maybe she didn’t try all that hard. Seeing Shashoni in pink taffeta wasn’t what she felt the need to break her neck to do.
But surely that scene would have been better than this one. Files lost, cap’n all crazy, and cramps like you wouldn’t believe. Tommy wanted to laugh, cry, and maybe kick somebody’s ass all at the same time. But instead she cleaned up reports. She was crazy about Keliegh but the boy couldn’t write a report if it meant his life.
“You hitting The spot?” Aston and Hank had asked her on their way out hours ago. Her eyes must have said it all as they held up their hands in surrender. He heard Aston call her a bitch but she didn’t even care enough to call him on it. At that moment in time, she was, and she knew it. It was around one now, nearly time for those who had gone home earlier to be on their way back in. She glanced at her watch.
“I’ma go home and soak in a hot—”
“Turner! I need to talk to you for a minute,” the captain had called to her.
“Shit,” she grumbled. It was a whistle and she caught it. “Alls I know is they better not run,” she grumbled, heading into his office to get the assignment.
“Got a big one. It’s a shooting out in the view. Looks domestic,” he said, handing her the address. “Take Bishop with you.”
“Bishop? Why don’t I just call Jack? He’s due in about an hour…”
“Take Bishop,” the captain barked.
Tommy felt her eyes roll but tried to fight it. She couldn’t stand Canasta Bishop. Maybe it was because Keliegh had slept with her. “Come on,” was all Tommy said to her, slapping her hand on Canasta’s desk. Canasta looked up at her with surprise showing.
“Me?”
“You.”
They walked out the front of the station just as Hank was making his way back in. “Wow!” was all he said. “Wow what?” Tommy responded, half bored, half interested.
“Man, is Jack in deep.”
“What?” Canasta asked. Tommy consciously glared at her.
“Romia shot somebody tonight and then kicked Aston’s ass and then pulled a gun on me and Jack. Tried to kill us—”
“Romia?” both Tommy and Canasta said at the same time.
“Yeah, it was crazy. She was all wild-eyed. I think she’s doing crack or something for sure. She just snapped,” he said, holding out his hands and bending them quickly as if breaking an invisible stick.
“Where is Keliegh now?”
“Well, he got all in the way of the arrest. I mean, he let her get away, so you know his ass is on the chopping block. Last I saw him he was under the light with IA.”
“Oh my God! Canasta, go tell Cap’n you and Hank took this whistle—”
“But—”
“Just go tell him…Shit. I’ll take the heat. He can fire me or whatever tomorrow, but I gotta go,” Tommy said, leaping off the steps of the