Page 27 of T-Bone
“Stop.” He grabbed my arm, which forced me to stop. “Just fucking stop for one minute.” His gray eyes bore into me until I shivered. “We can’t just march up to the front door and go inside.”
“Yeah well, that’s not what I’m planning to do,” I said and yanked my arm from his hold.
“Then, what?” He looked impatient.
“The house behind hers is vacant. If we cut through there, we can get in without notice.” I turned away and stepped off the curb, looking left and then right before I crossed. It was just late enough that most of the lights in the neighborhood were off. The low hum of television shows helped conceal our footsteps as we moved between two colonial style homes, climbing over a wire fence that separated the yards.
“I got it,” T-Bone whispered when we arrived at a tall wooden fence that was locked from the inside. He reached over and unhooked the latch, pushing it open and waving me inside.
The last obstacle was a chest-high fence that we both climbed easily until we were in Ashley’s backyard. The house wasn’t just dark, it was cold and lifeless. The scent of blood still lingered in the air, and it grew stronger the closer we got to the back door. “See, no crime scene tape.”
T-Bone only grunted and then we stepped inside the dark house, adjusting to the darkness before we began to move.
Chapter Eighteen
T-Bone
It was weird as fuck being inside Ashley’s place without her. The place was dead silent, which was so unlike her that it felt foreign to be in there without pop music playing in the background and cooking shows playing on the TV. Without light, all the colors ceased to exist as if the place was as dead as she was. “I can’t believe they’re not protecting the place.”
Faith snorted from the other side of the room. “Protect it from what? The people they’ve already helped out by blaming her ex-boyfriend, who they don’t have in handcuffs or behind bars.” She was annoyed with me and the distance between us grew with every passing second.
“Look, Faith, my objections weren’t because I’m hiding something from you.”
She scoffed. “Right.”
“I mean it,” I growled and raked a hand over my head with a heavy sigh. “We’re being chased by bikers and breaking into crime scenes, which means we need to be smart.”
“I was a homicide detective, T-Bone, I can take care of myself, and I know how tobe smart. We’re partners, remember that. I don’t need you acting as my bodyguard.” She moved methodically through the living room, going through every drawer, checking every sheet of paper on the shelves and even under the furniture. She was meticulous, highlighting the point that she didn’tneedme.
“So what, now you don’t trust me?”
She laughed. “Who said I ever trusted you?”
My lips curled into a reluctant smile. She was so fucking feisty, and she never worried about hurting my feelings. “Fair point. Though you did trust me enough to fuck me.”
She laughed. “Yeah well, nobody’s perfect.”
Silence fell around us again but there was less tension in it this time, allowing me to search properly. There were bills on the coffee table, sketches pinned to a corkboard near the fridge and more drawings done by a kid stuck to the fridge with magnets. “There’s a little girl in her life, or there was at some point.” I pointed to the fridge.
Faith walked over and studied the drawings like they were famous works of art. She nibbled her bottom lip as she took in every single detail before she nodded and walked away with a short huff.
“Nothing to say?”
She shrugged. “I already figured she died protecting Gemma. The question is who else was she protecting?” She shook her head as she worked out the problem in her head. She searched high and low for any details. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered after about ten minutes of silence.
“What?” I stood with a stack of papers from the top of the fridge in my hand and waited her out. Though Faith had proven herself to be no nonsense, right now she was letting her emotions guide her.
“I thought you said you didn’t know her?” Faith walked across the room with two photo frames, one in each hand. She shoved one photo in my face. “Well? You look pretty goddamn friendly to me.”
I looked at the photo of me, Pike, and Ashley, and I smiled. “That’s from a few years back. Ashley did some art on a few bikes, and she came with us to a bike event held out in the desert.” I shook my head at the memory. “She was so fuckin’ excited to showcase her art so publicly and Pike was so proud. Peyton took a photo to mark the occasion.”
Her lips pulled into a tight line. “And this photo?”
That one was just me and Ashley and there was no good news. “I don’t remember a damn thing about taking this photo,” I answered honestly.
She snorted out a huff of disbelief. “Of course. Memory loss.” She stared at me with a mix of anger and distrust. “Understood.”
“What the fuck do youthinkyou understand?” Because I sure as shit didn’t understand a damn thing.
