Helena Hunting - Inked Armour

“You know, I ran your background after that first meeting, and I checked your girlfriend, too.”

Which meant she knew about the crash before she asked. Running my background wouldn’t turn up much besides a couple of the interviews I was subjected to after my parents’ murder. The initial ones had likely been erased, as I’d been a juvenile.

“Other than a speeding ticket about a month back, your record is clean as a whistle.”

“Surprised?”

She got out of the cruiser and opened my door. The pounding in my head and the tightness in my throat let up a little once I was free of the cruiser.

“With your attitude? Damn right. But then I went deeper because I was sure there had to be something else. The way you acted when you came into the precinct didn’t add up. You know what I found?”

“I have no clue.”

“Nothing. You have a perfect credit rating. You have financing pending on a joint property investment in a very good neighborhood. You own both your condo and your tattoo shop. You’ve never missed a payment of any kind, and you make several charitable donations a year. Interesting for someone who presents like you, don’t you think?”

“And how do I present?”

“Like you’re giving society the perpetual bird and you’ve got an ax to grind.”

“My only problem is Cross.”

“Yeah, I figured that out. Made me wonder what the problem was, until he told me he was the lead investigator on your parents’ murder case.”

“He and his partner were first on the scene. They thought I’d done it, so they arrested me. Cross interrogated me.”

“I’m going to guess that didn’t go well.”

“You could say that.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, rocking back on my heels.

“Wanna tell me more about it?”

“There’s not much to tell. I found my parents’ bodies, called the police, and ended up in an interrogation room. I was there for a long time before I was allowed my phone call.” I wasn’t sure how much detail she wanted, or how much I felt inclined to provide. I didn’t know how closely she worked with him. “All I know is that the evidence in the case was deemed inadmissible because it was compromised. I don’t have all the details, which is why I went to the precinct that day.”

“Why’d they target you as a suspect?”

“Convenience? How should I know? I was seventeen. I came home and found my parents murdered. I called nine-one-one and freaked out because they were dead.”

If she’d read the file, she knew I’d torn apart the living room, so mentioning it was redundant.

She regarded me with a speculation that was not uncommon. “I’ve been through what’s left of the evidence. There’s not much there. I have some questions, too, but without something new it would be hard to make a case to have it reopened.”

I thought about the constant, unyielding dreams I had lately. “What if I had something? Who would I go to?”

“You think you do?”

“It’s possible.”

“Normally you’d go to the person who initially worked the case, if they’re still around. But I don’t see that going over well on either side. You can contact me, provided you keep yourself in check. I won’t deal with a loose cannon.”

“As long as I don’t have to deal with Cross, I can manage myself.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Not good enough. We work in the same precinct. Sometimes we work together. I can’t have you going off on Cross every time you run into him.”

“He screwed up my parents’ case.”

“So you say, but you were a kid. You said yourself that you don’t have the details, and from what I read, you were under the influence that night, so maybe your memory is a little spotty.”

“But that doesn’t have anything to do with the evidence. If Cross was responsible for collecting and filing it, doesn’t the blame lie with him?”

“Careful with the finger-pointing. I get that it was a traumatic experience for you. I’ve seen the crime scene photos, but I can’t help you if can’t handle yourself.”

“I’ll rein it in.”

“You’d better.” She took a step toward Tenley and Cross, then turned back. “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Sure.”

“All that metal in your face? It makes you a target.”

“Are you telling me I need to get rid of it?”

“Nope. I’m not telling you anything. But if you came into the precinct dressed like you are tonight and all that metal did a disappearing act? You might find people react a little differently.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

The conversation with Hayden, followed by being pulled over, sobered me quickly. Hayden wasn’t intoxicated. Officer Cross refused to let it go, though, particularly considering the state of the car and me.

Even though the effects of the meds were still present, I hadn’t missed his contrived worry over my well-being. Today had been long and difficult and he wasn’t helping. His unconcealed antagonism toward Hayden made my anxiety spike.

For the past ten minutes Cross had been grilling me about the dent in the hood, my missing shoes, and the state of my jacket. At least Officer Miller had asked about other things, even if the questions were leading.

The details she gleaned from me had less to do with me and more with Hayden. She’d asked about his parents, his job, his co-workers, and where Hayden spent his spare time. Those questions were easy to answer because I could be truthful. The details painted Hayden in a positive light. He spent all his time outside of work with me, and if he wasn’t with me, he was with a select group of people.

I looked over at the police car parked about thirty feet away. At least Hayden wasn’t locked inside anymore. Officer Miller had let him out almost immediately. Hayden was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, but not nearly as upset as he’d been when she first let him out.

I huddled deeper into my coat, wishing we had stayed at Cassie’s. TK would have been fine on her own for one night. If it hadn’t been for my breakdown, we could still be cozied up in that oversize chair; rather than dealing with police. Officer Cross was still lecturing me, and my face was red with anger and humiliation. Although he couldn’t be much past thirty, his permanent frown reeked of parental disapproval.

“I’ve told you already, we didn’t hit anything on the way home,” I said, done with the questions. “You’ve asked me the same thing twenty different ways. The answer isn’t going to change.”

Cross dropped down into a crouch; his wide body filled the doorframe. He reached up and held on to headrest, blocking me in and cutting off my view of Hayden. His voice dropped. “Do you think your parents would approve of your boyfriend if they were still alive?”

I recoiled. “That’s irrelevant and none of your business.”

“I’ll tell you what I think. I think they’d be disappointed. Particularly if they knew what you let him do to you. And on the hood of his car, no less. Doesn’t say much about your self-respect, now does it?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, failing to keep the tremor out of my voice.

“Oh, no? Based on the way you can’t make eye contact, I’m going to go ahead and call you on that lie, sweetheart. You might want to think a little more carefully about what you do and who you do it with. It could make people think less of you.”

“I think this conversation is over.”

“If you say so.” He rose up, his smile far from friendly. “One more thing, though. You wouldn’t be encouraging Stryker to pursue his parents’ case, would you?”

“Why wouldn’t I, if it could get him some closure?”

“It’s not always what people need. Think about it. That kid hung out with some bad people. If you want to help him, you might persuade him to let things go. You never know what kind of skeletons he might dig up.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You think it’s any coincidence that you come along and all of a sudden Stryker’s looking to clean up his act? He was with a suspected drug dealer the night his parents were killed. Draw your own conclusions.”

I stared at him in open incredulity. This was new information and I wasn’t sure I should trust it.

“You look awfully shocked, Miss Page. Do you even know who you’re spending all your time with? The kinds of things Stryker has done?”

I didn’t have a chance to ask any further questions. Officer Cross stepped away from the door just as Hayden approached. “One last word before you head home, Mr. Stryker.”

Hayden didn’t acknowledge that Cross had spoken. Instead, he knelt down in front of me and ran his hands down my arms. He dropped the key in my palm and folded my fingers around it.

“Christ, you’re freezing.” He shot Officer Cross an irritated glare, then dropped a soft kiss on my lips. “Turn on the car, kitten.”

While I tucked my legs inside, Hayden rolled up the window and closed the door. I slid the key into the ignition, and the engine started with a deep rumble. I pulled my legs up to my chest, conserving body heat. I’d been so distressed when Officer Cross put Hayden in his cruiser, the cold hadn’t registered. It did now. I flexed my frozen toes.

After a brief, tight exchange between Hayden and Officer Cross, Hayden rounded the car and got in. He was silent in his fury as he shifted into gear and pulled onto the street.

“Please tell me you’re okay,” he asked in a pained voice.

“I’m okay,” I replied, though I wasn’t entirely sure it was true.

He glanced at me as if maybe he didn’t believe me, either. “What did he say to you?”