He may be dead. I may never get to face him. I may never even know for sure. But I won’t stop.
The rest of the Valettis know something, and I can question them. Well, I can try. I know it’s risky. But I have to try. I’ll do anything to make sure Petrov never puts his hands on another woman. I hope he suffered. Tears leak down my face and hit the pillow beneath me. A sob tears through me, and I have no idea where it came from.
My anger is waning, knowing he may no longer be alive. What’s left if I don’t have the anger to hold onto? My chest feels hollow. And I can’t stand the distant feeling of sadness.
I wish I knew one way or the other.
He could’ve at least told me. Thinking of Thomas makes the pain subside, if only for a moment. He made me weak. I enjoyed it though. I’m tired of being the strong one. I’m tired of fighting an enemy I can’t even see. I’m tired of chasing ghosts.
I close my eyes and try to think of anything other than the dark past, and twisted obsession that’s brought me here. I steady my breathing and see Thomas’ face.
I feel his hands on my body. His lips against my neck.
“Bad girl.” The memory of his deep, baritone voice sends a shiver through my body. I can imagine a time when I would have run off with him. When I would have gotten on my knees and done everything and anything he asked, just for the thrill of it.
That time’s passed though. And now neither of us are in a position to allow what we did to ever happen again. My eyes pop open, realizing if he told anyone, I’d lose my job. I expect to feel fear, or shock, or anger at the thought. But I feel nothing. I don’t think I’d care.
It would hurt though, for him to use it against me. He should. If I were him, I would. What we did wasn’t right, and it would certainly add a level of distrust and uncertainty to the case if I got pulled off. It would severely compromise the case.
But the evidence is iffy as is. All we really have are the prints at this point. The tire tracks are circumstantial, and the witness deposition is inadmissible due to her state of mind.
The partial print is the only piece of evidence that’s damning, according to the prosecutor.
There’s no more evidence to collect, and everything we have points to the Valettis ending the deal and saving the women.
I can’t even fathom why Jerry is still gunning for them, unless he’s hoping for the same outcome as Harrison, just in a more professional way. I guess it’s professional to leverage and threat in order to get information for other cases.
The lines are blurred so much more than I ever thought they could be.
And I’m tired of looking at black and white. I rest my head into the pillow and try not to think about any of it at all. I just want to rewind time. I want to go back to the last time I saw Melissa and hold her. If I’d known then, what I know now, I’d never let her go. I don’t care if it’s crazy. I would do anything I could to save her.
The tears come again and I hug my pillow. I can’t save her. I’ll never be able to save her. My throat closes as I sniffle and try to breathe into the pillow.
She’s never coming back. And nothing I’ll ever do can change that.
Tommy
“What the fuck is that broad thinking?” Anthony walks up behind me at the bar, and I have to turn around to face him.
He looks worried. “What are you talking about?” I ask.
“Your chick, Tonya Kelly. The cop.” He says, “the cop” like I wouldn’t know who he’s talking about. My eyes lower to the drink in my hand. I haven’t had one fucking moment go by where I didn’t think about her. From the way she felt writhing beneath me, to the pissed off and hurt look when I shut it down before the situation got any worse than was necessary.
I fucking hate this. I hate that I can’t get her out of my head, and I hate that I can’t have her. I’ve never had this problem before. And I don’t fucking like it.
“What’s she doing?” I ask, looking past him at Vince. Vince is in the corner of the room talking to his brother over a beer. They barely come in here anymore with the kids taking up so much of their time. I hope whatever my bad girl has gotten into, it hasn’t found its way back to either of them.
“She’s about to get slapped with a harassment lawsuit if she keeps her shit up.” I look him dead in the eyes, waiting for more. “She went to Tony's and waited for him outside his house. She keeps pushing for information.” He looks over his shoulder at Vince. “She’s worse than a fucking reporter.”
He turns like he’s gonna go tell Vince, and I stop him. My hand grips his shoulder. His forehead pinches, and his eyes narrow. “What the fuck, Tommy?”
“Don’t tell him, and tell Tony to keep his mouth shut.” He looks at me with disbelief. “I’ll handle it,” I say, standing up from my barstool.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t go around making threats to an officer. You aren’t off the hook yet.”
“That’s not what I have in mind,” I say under my breath.
Anthony closes his eyes and lets his head fall back. “You’re fucking kidding me, Tommy. Tell me you’re not fucking around with her.”
“I’m not.” I’ve never been good at lying, and I sure as shit don’t like lying to him. But it’s partially true.
“Good. That’d be a fucking mistake.”
“Stay out of it, Anthony.” I’m done with this conversation. I turn to walk away and he doesn’t stop me. I feel like a prick, but I’m going after what I want.
Before I make it to the door, Vince and Dom approach me, and I know I need to stop and hear them out. I just hope it’s not about her. She really should know better; she shouldn’t be doing this shit. She’s gonna get herself into deep shit, and I can’t fucking have that happen.
“Tommy, you alright?” Dom asks. I’m sure they can see the stress on my face. I need to man the fuck up and play it cool.
“Everything considered, I’m doing just fine.” I talk easy, but the tension in my body is keeping my guard up.
“You know we got you. It’s all gonna be taken care of. Soon, too. We already got the witness stuff thrown out, the prints and the tire tracks are close to being gone too, and then they won’t have shit on you.”
I nod my head, not really listening. I’m sure I’m gonna get off, so I’m not too worried about that. But my bad girl is gonna get herself into some deep shit, and I need to stop that. I don’t want them thinking of her like they do Harrison.
“Has that bitch cop been bugging you?” Vince asks, and it takes everything in me not to make a fist and smash it into his face.
“She’s not a bitch,” I manage to say back, and he doesn’t like that answer. Dom seems surprised and takes a step back. He doesn’t get involved with this shit. I can’t help that the words come out. I don’t like him calling her a bitch. She may be a little rough around the edges. She’s a little pushy, but she’s not a bitch. Nothing about her makes me think that.
“She’s still a cop though, isn’t she?” Vince asks in a hushed voice.
“Yeah she is.” I answer him quickly, wanting to get rid of the tense air between us.