Prologue
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Ian muttered before minimizing the screen and pushing his chair back.
He spun around in the swivel chair, stopped a few feet away from his desk, and huffed. Then he folded his arms over his lap and stared up at the ceiling.
He couldn’t stop looking at the single crack in the center and wondering how it got there. Or howhegot there.
All he could think about was his mom’s case.
It was all he could breathe or feel or see.
And little by little, it was driving him crazy.
With a frown, Ian rolled his chair back to his desk, pushed some papers aside, and picked up his mouse. He scrolled through the screen, and his eyes darted back and forth, quickly skimming through the documents. Yet, the harder he tried to pick up on any inconsistencies, the worse he felt.
Nothing was jumping out at him.
Not even a single sentence.
It had been weeks since he’d campaigned to get his mom’s case reopened. Since he was a respected member of the department and well-liked amongst his peers and the higher-ups, it hadn’t taken much to get them to agree. In light of therecent burglaries plaguing Falmouth, he knew the department needed a win.
And he’d been excited to hand them one on a silver platter.
Unfortunately, nothing was working out the way he wanted it to.
Not only was none of the evidence making sense, but all he’d gotten after weeks of staring at his screen and pouring over every ounce of information was a headache steadily pounding in the back of his skull. Aside from the stiffness in his limbs that he couldn’t shake off, no matter how hard he stretched, Ian had nothing to show for his hard work. Nothing that mattered or even made a kernel of a difference.
A wave of frustration rose within him, forcing him to push his chair back and stand. He brushed a few crumbs of bread off the collar of his shirt and stretched his arms up over his head. After a few seconds, he pushed himself up to the balls of his feet and held his arms out on either side of him.
He was flapping his arms out when his partner came in, a cup of coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other. She did a double take when she saw him and paused to tuck a lock of dark hair behind her ears. Then she took her phone out of her pocket and pointed at him.
“Don’t you dare.”
“I would,” Marissa replied cheerfully. “People don’t think anything interesting ever happens when we have the night shift, but that’s not true. I’ve got proof now.”
Ian let his arms fall to his sides and gave his partner a withering look. “What good is that going to do you? I’m your partner. If you embarrass me, you’re embarrassing yourself by extension.”
Marissa paused. “I’m surprisingly okay with it. At least it’ll get people to stop talking about the drool picture Schmitt took of me.”
Ian’s lips twitched. “You need to let that go.”
Marissa lifted the mug up to her lips, her face half-bathed in fluorescent lighting. “You need to stop staring at your screen and hoping for a different result, but you don’t hear me trying to tell you how to handle things.”
“It sounds like you are.”
Marissa shrugged and crossed over to him. She dropped into the chair next to his and did a half-circle in her seat. Ian did a full turn, taking in the rows and rows of empty desks, many of them with sheets of paper scattered throughout. His gaze stopped at the captain’s door, his name written in bold cursive on the glass window that reflected the neat and tidy office within.
Once upon a time, Ian thought he’d end up in that position.
He’d long since given up on that dream, having made his peace with the fact he was only going to be a police officer. No amount of wishful thinking was going to change the hand he was dealt in life, and he didn’t want to waste any more time wishing things were different.
It wasn’t going to get him his dream job, and it wasn’t going to bring his mom back to life—no matter how much he prayed for it.
“Are you okay?” Marissa was leaning forward in her seat and waving a hand in front of his face. “You look like you’re constipated or something.”
Ian blinked and swung his gaze back to hers. “How is that your immediate conclusion?”
Marissa sat up straighter and yawned. “I don’t know. I guess I spend too much time at the station.”
