Page 15 of The Raven
“Boss, take a walk. Clear your head.”
“Good idea,” Brenner hissed.
I held his gaze before snorting and looking away. Any otherLieutenant would have ordered me back to the station to await discipline for speaking to a superior like that, but not Brenner. He would neveradmit it, but he needed me at the scene; he knew I was the best detective on the team, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
I muttered another curse before storming out of the alley and pushingthrough the blockade. If I stared at Brenner for any longer, I would have smashed my fist into his face.
Loosening my tie, I took long strides away from the crime scene,needing to put distance between me and the asshole. Fucking Brenner, he’d been a thorn in my side from the minute I arrived, but now his fuckery was allowing rapists and murderers to walk free.
The cool night air brushed against my heated cheeks as anger swirled in mybody. I was sick to death of the narrative that Eric had been the one to attack Raven before killing himself; it was impossible. I’d witnessed with my own eyes how much that man doted on Raven.
Lost in thought, I didn’t realize how far from the scene I’d walked untilmovement from across the road caught my attention. I stopped walking and scanned the road in time to see a hooded figure disappear down another dark alley.
The feeling of familiarity coursed through me, and I knew in a heartbeatwho it was. Acting on impulse, I crossed the road and followed the figure, my heart racing like a speeding train as adrenaline pumped through me.
Dim lighting from the buildings on either side of the alley lit her up.She was leaning against the wall, her head bowed, with her hood covering her face.
I stopped several feet away from her. Not out of fear that she wouldhurt me, but not wanting her to disappear.
“Raven,” I whispered, knowing in my heart of hearts it was her.
She raised her head, meeting my eyes, and for a few seconds, my heartstopped dead in my chest.
It really was her.
The light surrounding us lit up her face. She was exactly how Iremembered her: a heart-shaped face, perfect lips, a small, slightly upturned nose, and eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea. She lowered her hood, and her long, straight black hair cascaded down, almost reaching her waist.
She was as beautiful as the day I first met her, when she was five, andI was seven.
There were so many things I wanted to say to her. So much I wanted to tellher if I ever had the opportunity to speak to her again, but the words lodged in my throat.
“How?” I finally asked, managing to force the words past my state ofshock. “How are you here?”
“A soul can’t rest until it resolves its unfinished business,” shereplied softly, almost as if she were talking to herself. “But I can’t figure out how you fit into this.”
My brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” I asked, confused at hercryptic statement.
“I know whattheydid to me, but you,” she paused, trying to find herwords. “I don’t know why I feel this strange pull whenever I see you. I don’t know howyoufit into the picture when I can’t remember you.”
My heart sank to the soles of my shoes. Whether she was real or Iwas seeing a ghost, it didn’t matter. It still hurt learning that she had no idea who I was or what I had been to her.
“You don’t remember me?” I repeated, hoping for a different answer.
She stepped away from the wall, closing the gap between us. Icouldn’t stop myself from inhaling deeply as her scent surrounded me, an intoxicating smell of rose and lavender that reminded me of home.
Shewas my home.
“You were there that night,” she stated, her gaze penetrating mine.
I nodded once. “I found you.”
Her eyes narrowed on me. “I need to see,” she replied, confusing meeven more than I already was.
Slowly, she lifted her hands, hesitating when they reached my head. Myheart pounded furiously against my rib cage, loud enough that I was sure she could hear it.
“Can I?” she asked, pausing just before her hands made contact with me.
I didn’t know what she was asking, but the overwhelming need for herto touch me dominated all rational thought. I needed to feel her. Needed to know she was really there and not a figment of my imagination.
