Page 54 of Fox and Nitro
Nodding, I let him turn me into his warm body, holding me tightly, giving me enough of his strength and calm in this moment to help me focus.
Swallowing, I clear my throat, “There’s nothing more we can do here. Let’s go check out the address.”
He leads me out of the small, sterile cubicle and I make my way to the cruiser. I’m not sure how long it takes to get to her small, modest house on the outskirts of Rose Grove, or even how we got here, my mind is too busy trying to pull together threads. Was it Hitchens that killed her or was it someone else exacting revenge on Hitchens? He’s a bad bastard, scum on the bottom ofmy shoe, but surely he’s not capable of this. Turning to Nitro I share my thoughts and his eyes search mine for a moment.
“He’s a piece of shit who beats his wife and is on the take. But you’re right, it may not be him. Could be someone he’s working with?” Nitro agrees.
“I guess we won’t know until we work the scene.” I shrug, making my way up the path and under the crime scene tape.
“Deputies,” Hernandez greets, coming out of the front door. He’s one of the good guys. Does his job, keeps his nose clean.
“What can you tell us?” Nitro asks, looking over Hernandez’s shoulder to get a look inside.
“It’s a damned mess. Haven’t touched anything, just been securing the scene until the scene tech’s get here. If you’re going in, don’t forget to suit up.” He hands me the case in his hand and walks out to his cruiser to act as security until the techs turn up.
Squatting in the doorway I open the case, pulling out gloves and booties for myself and NItro. Usually we’d go in with gloves only, but this being Hitchen’s wife we need to be able to sort our boot prints from his.
“Ready?” Nitro asks, snapping his gloves.
“Ready.” I nod.
Walking through the home it’s clear to see that it’s the home of a woman who has been abused. You see it a lot with DV cases. Everything is clean, tidy, nothing out of place. It’s as if the women try to minimize any little thing that could trigger their husband or partner. Walking through the dining room, dinner is on the table for a single setting. Kitchen spotless. We slowly make our way through the home, noting that the living area is furnished neatly, cozy even, but the further through the home we venture, the more sparse it is. There’s two spare rooms with twin beds in each and nothing else and the master only has a bed. No side tables, no pictures, nothing that would make this into a home. It’s as if the front more public areas are for show.
Looking around the master bedroom it’s clear this room is where she was tortured.
“Who called it in?” I turn to ask Nitro.
“Shit, lemme check.” He messes around with his phone, getting a response immediately as he looks up at me. “Said it was anonymous, but the operator thought it may have been a kid pretending to be an adult.”
“What the fuck?” I spin on my heel, stalking through the house again.
Looking for any sign of kids being here, something, anything that can help make this shit make sense. It fucking has to before I lose my damn mind.
Chapter 20
Nitro
Iwatch as Fox loses his shit slowly. It doesn’t happen often, I’ve only seen it happen once when we were deployed and he came across a house that had been attacked in the middle of nowhere. The occupants, a woman and her elderly mother, had been brutally raped and tortured before being shot. That night was the first time I held Hayden in my arms while he slept fitfully. I’m prepared to do that again tonight, but this time I will have Jazz at my side to help soothe him.
My gaze follows as he stalks from one end of the house to the other, only stopping when he takes in the master bedroom before turning and moving again. A rustle sounds out every time he sets foot into the master room I’m standing in and I wonder if the house has rodents. It’s on a large plot of land so field mice and shit are common.
He steps back into the room and this time the rustling is accompanied by a small squeak. Holding my hand up I halt Fox’s movements and the thudding of his boots through the house.
“There,” I whisper to myself when I hear it.
I point to the closet and slowly, on silent feet move toward the door. I lean closer and hear quiet panting before a soft wetdripping sound. Looking down at the floor a puddle starts to form at my boots and my gut drops. Making eye contact with Fox I know what he sees on my face breaks his heart.
Softening my voice, I talk to the door, “It’s OK, we’re here to help.”
Gripping the handle of the closet I gently pull it open to reveal two little auburn haired girls huddled together, tear streaked faces, arms wrapped tightly around each other.
Their eyes widen when they see my uniform and one of them hides her face as the other one stares me down with such venom that it shocks me.
“Leave us alone! We won’t tell anyone what happened! Tell him that we won’t talk!”
“Who doesn’t want you to talk, sweetie? Maybe you could tell me and I can help you. I’m from the police department, see?” I hold out my badge to show her and she studies it intently.
“No,” her sister whispers at her, turning her face. They’re identical from what I can tell, and look a fuckload like Kit, Hitchens other daughter. That fucker was not only hiding a wife, but more kids. “We can’t tell him, he might be friends with him.”
