The good mood lasted until they pulled up outside the house, and Lucy’s phone rang. He switched off the engine, got out, and went to open Lucy’s door. She ignored him and raced up the stairs and through the front door. Ian hurried after her, letting the door click shut behind him.
She went into their room and slammed the door shut.
Ian pressed his ear to the door and tried to hear past the pounding of his heart. “Luce, what’s wrong?”
He was met with silence.
“Open up, please,” Ian murmured after a quick look over his shoulder to make sure Dean couldn’t hear them. “We were having a good time tonight. We were reconnecting. Don’t shut me out again.”
Through the doorway, he heard Lucy continue to mutter, interrupted by the occasional sniff. Then Lucy’s footsteps drifted toward the door, and Ian’s heart missed a beat. He drew himself up to his full height and tried to ignore the shiver racing up his spine.
His stomach clenched when Lucy locked the door and moved away.
Ian lifted his hand up to the door and rapped. “Open up, Luce. Don’t do this. I’m here. You’re not alone. Whatever it is, we’re going to get through it.”
His heart was in his throat when he pressed his ear to the door and strained to make out something, anything to let him know Lucy was okay.
He hated being on the other side of the door.
And he wanted to hunt down whoever was upsetting her.
Why wouldn’t she open the door and let him in?
When he heard Lucy’s soft crying, he tried the door again, but to no avail. Eventually, Lucy’s tears stopped, and she went quiet. He removed his ear from the door, leaned against the wall next to their bedroom, and waited. When he sank down to his knees and stretched his legs out in front of him, Lucy still hadn’t opened the door. Nor did it look like she was going to, but he wasn’t going to let her face any of this alone.
So, he threw his head back, rolled his shoulders, and waited.
It wasn’t long before his eyelids grew heavy and began to droop. Ian fought off sleep for as long as he could, but whenit came, he folded his hands in his lap and squeezed his eyes shut. His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was Lucy and whether the two of them were going to get through this.
Were they going to weather the storm together?
Chapter Eight
“You’re looking a little tired, Railings. Fun night out with the wife?”
Ian lifted the coffee cup to his lips and frowned. “Forget about what I look like. Just focus on what we’re here for. You requested to see me.”
Jake stood and stretched his arms over his head. “I see no reason why we can’t continue our little chats from here.”
“You do realize you’re not in Falmouth anymore, right? If I’m going to drive up here, it better be worth my time.”
And the headache he had pounding in the back of his skull.
Even if none of that was Jake’s fault, Ian didn’t care.
He needed someone to blame, and he was feeling less than charitable toward the prisoner, who’d done nothing but taunt Ian since he walked through the doors. Half of Ian was tempted to get back into his car, drive back to Falmouth, and cut his losses. The other part of him couldn’t bear another failure, even one that wasn’t his, and he dreaded the thought of going home to a quiet house.
Lucy hadn’t spoken to him once all day, and checking his phone periodically wasn’t going to change that. Neither was the god-awful coffee he was sipping on.
“Still no luck with the guy who tried to take me out?”
“What makes you think it’s a guy?” Ian lowered his cup and tossed it into the nearest bin. Then he clapped his hands together and leaned against the wall overlooking the holding cell. “It could just as easily be a woman.”
“It’s not Eric’s MO,” Jake replied, letting his hands fall to his sides. “He prefers to work with men, at least when it comes to dirty work.”
“You should tell the DA that.”
“I did, but she’s not taking me seriously. She thinks I’m being sexist or trying to get under her skin.”
