Wes’s cheek twitched imperceptibly, but he otherwise kept reading through the notebook.
“Luke,” Scarlett whispered. Her low voice had my hackles raised instantly.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper-hissed back. “Talk to me.” Wes’s head snapped up at my question, listening for any sign of trouble. Despite our differences in the past, he would ride into war at my side if I needed him to. There was no doubt about it.
“Nothing. I just don’t want Pete to overhear me. I’m in the bathroom, but I’m trying to be quiet,” she said, referring to Lieutenant Rebello. It was just the two of them at the station until she got out at midnight.
“Christ, Letty. You scared the shit out of me.” Relief washed over me in a hard wave.
“Sorry. I don’t have much time. I mean, I could always tell him it’s lady business if he asks what took so long.” Her pensive tone as she seriously considered her options made me laugh.
“That would probably work,” I agreed.
“Anyway. That isn’t why I called.”
“To talk about your lady business?”
“Luke,” she scolded, still whispering.
“Sorry, sorry. What’s up?”
“I wasn’t able to copy the case file. When I went to get it the first time, Cap came out of his office and almost caught me. And when I tried again after he left, Pete was wandering around, so I pivoted to the bathroom. And here we are. I’m sorry, Luke. I tried. If I can get my hands on it, I’ll be able to copy it no problem, but I keep getting intercepted.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, shaking my head at Wes to let him know that we didn’t get the file. Yet. “I don’t want to tip anyone off that we’re looking at things. To everyone else, Redmond’s case is done and dusted, at least until the trial starts. If they see you with the file, it’ll open up a line of questioning we don’t want. I can try again tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Luke,” she said, but I could hear the dejection in her voice.
“Hey. This is just what investigations are like. There are a lot of moving pieces, and sometimes it takes a minute to get what you need. Patience, Letty Girl.”
Fuck. I often called her Letty. It was our own little thing that had started as an inside joke—an imaginary TV show we made up called Luke and Letty, Crime Stoppers. Now, she was “Letty Girl”?
I thought I heard her suck in a breath, but it was probablyjust the phone. Hopefully, she didn’t even catch the slip of the tongue. The last thing I wanted was for Scarlett to get awkward around me.
“Okay, well, I should get back out there. Tell Wes I’m sorry for not getting it done tonight.”
“He’ll be fine. Stay safe,” I told her, ending our call with the same motto we always did.
13
Scarlett
I dragged my feet to my door in exhaustion. It had been a long night on shift, and I was due back at 8:00 a.m. for the first shift tomorrow—or later today, technically, seeing as it was just after midnight. I slipped my shoes off and hit the lights. Everything in my apartment was exactly as I left it, but I had this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach for some reason. The couple of dishes that were in my sink were still there; the blanket on the couch appeared untouched. I did a slow sweep through each room, checking in closets, under beds, behind the shower curtain. Absolutely nothing was disturbed or missing. Maybe it was just the late hour and coming home to an empty place after having Aurora staying with me all summer. I was psyching myself up.
I sat on the edge of my bed with my phone in my hand. Luke was only a call or a text away. If I asked him to, he would come here for me. But what would I even say? I got home and nothing was wrong and it freaked me out? I shook myself out of my weird headspace, triple-checked the door was locked, and went to sleep. Or tried to sleep, anyway.
Earlier, when I was talking to Luke from the ladies’ room at the station, he called me Letty Girl. My heart sent a kick into my ribs so hard it might as well have been a cartoon. It was silly. He had called me Letty a bunch of times, ever since I made up a ridiculous TV show starring me and Luke as a crime-fighting duo, Luke and Letty. But something about the term Letty Girl just felt more familiar… almost intimate.
I certainly couldn’t call him now. Not to come save me from absolutely nothing. If he showed up at my apartment, looking like he did and calling me sweet, private nicknames, I would do something stupid like try to kiss him. It was so much easier to keep a solid rein on my crush when he was married. I had no desire for off-limits men, especially after unwittingly dating one a year ago. Even during the years of pining after Luke, I knew that if there was ever a time that he expressed an interest in me, it would stop my crush dead in its tracks.
A gust of wind rattled my windows, setting my nerves off again. I lay in bed, scrolling through social media until I got tired. Eventually, it worked. My lids became heavier, my breathing deeper. I fell asleep with my phone in my hand, not even bothering to plug it into the charger.
Sunlight filtered through my lashes in what felt like minutes. I groaned as my hand patted around my bed, looking for my discarded phone to silence the alarm. Now that I was somewhat rested and the sun was shining, I was glad that I hadn’t called Luke last night. Any bad vibes that I felt when I got home yesterday were gone. I would have looked like some damsel in need of saving from the big, strong man. Or worse, like it was a ploy to get him alone, in my apartment, at night.
I felt bad that I wasn’t able to get him the documents he needed yesterday. Today was a new day though, and I was determined to get him something. As unsuccessful as I was yesterday, I enjoyed the sneaking around, surreptitiously glancing around to find the right opportunity. The station would be busier today since I was working first shift, but there had to be something I could do to help.
I showered and dressed quickly, skipped washing my hair today since I didn’t have time to do anything with it. Plus, that meant I could grab a coffee from Flour Power Cafe on my way into work.
“Morning,” I called to Lieutenant Polenski as I walked into work thirty minutes after I had rolled out of bed. He grunted a greeting at me, not out of rudeness but because he had his head in his hand, either from being tired or hungover.
