Protector - Laurel Dewey [10]
Neither of them saw much on that dark, cloudy night. Most of their time was spent sitting in the car, drinking coffee and talking about their future together. After two years of being partners, getting loaded after hours and sharing some of their darkest moments from their past, Chris and Jane found themselves sharing a bed. It wasn’t love for either of them. It was more of a way to not be lonely. But lately, Jane was tiring of the relationship. Chris had always been a control freak, but his behavior was becoming unbearable. His desire for sex had gone from reasonable to insatiable. The fact that he was developing a penchant for rougher and rougher sex disturbed Jane. She could easily meet and sometimes top Chris’ aggressive nature in bed. But the physical and emotional pain began to gnaw at her psyche. When their violent dance couldn’t be numbed by any amount of booze, Jane decided to break off their intimate relationship. She also planned to put in for a new partner at DH. That night in the car waiting for the Stovers to return home, Chris was discussing the possibility of moving in with Jane. If all hell hadn’t broken loose, Jane would have told him it was over.
And so, there they sat in Weyler’s office. Chris with his cocky, know-it-all attitude and Jane with her stubborn, get-the-last-word-in demeanor. Weyler looked at the two of them, not knowing quite what to think.
“Am I right about the mob, boss?” Chris asked Weyler again.
“Chris, I refuse to walk on that land mine right now,” Weyler responded in a surefooted, diplomatic manner. “What they may or may not be capable of is unknown. We lost our opportunity for any inside info when Stover died. Right now, I’m more interested in both of your psychological profiles.” The comment jarred Jane, given her precarious start to the day. Weyler opened a folder. “I see here, Chris, that you completed your psych counsel and they feel that you have come to terms with the incident and are not experiencing any post-traumatic stress episodes. Is that correct?”
“No episodes at all, sir,” Chris said with a shrug of his shoulders. “It was an unfortunate incident but it’s in the past and I’m moving forward. My only concern right now is how this may or may not affect my record with the Department.”
“That has yet to be determined.” Weyler scanned the form. “It says here that you expressed a certain amount of anger regarding the incident.”
“Yes, sir,” Chris said as his eyes scanned the floor. “I felt that we didn’t consider all the angles of what could go down and I’m angry at myself for that. That was one of the first things they taught us in the Marines: figure out everything that can go wrong and have an end run in place.” Chris focused his gaze to his left, away from Jane. “As harsh as it sounds, sir, Stover knew the rules but chose to color outside the lines. Going to get ice cream was just stupid on his part! A window of opportunity opened up and some bastard took advantage of it. The more I’ve thought about it—and believe me, I’ve thought about it—the more I feel that if anyone is to blame for this mess, it’s Stover.”
“Yeah, blame the dead,” Jane said under her breath. Chris shot her a look.
The silence in the room was deafening. Weyler considered Chris’ remarks, closed his folder and pushed it aside. A piercing beep cut into the quiet. Chris jerked forward, snapped his beeper off his waistband and checked the message.
“Sorry, sir,” Chris said in a strong voice. “I told Marshall to beep me if he needed any assistance at that double murder from last night.” Chris slightly hesitated as a vibrating anxiousness buzzed off his body. “Are we okay here?”
“For now, yes. Call Marshall and