He willed himself to lean back in his chair and drawled, “You may as well be the first to know. I am leaving Motham PD.”
Color washed over her cheeks, then faded, leaving her white as a ghost.
“I see.”
“I’ve been offered a role as head of the investigations bureau in Selig.”
She stared at him, her face void of expression. “How very convenient.”
He shrugged. “The offer came in weeks ago, I’ve just decided to accept it.”
Her lip curled. “Are you afraid I’ll report you, sir?”
He arched his brows. “For what?”
“You are my superior—need I say more?”
Anger flared in him to match her own. It was so much easier than the shame. “I gave you the option to say no. More than once.”
She blanched.
He twisted the knife. “I believe you are an adult, capable of the word no.”
She didn’t reply, but he saw her hands clenching tight.
“It’s for the best that I leave here,” he said finally, staring down at his desk.
Finally, flatly, she’d said, “You’re right, sir. It would be impossible to work for someone I have so little respect for.” She turned to go. “And don’t worry, I wouldn’t stoop so low as to make a complaint. I take responsibility for my actions. Sir.”
He’d nearly run after her as she strode away, wanted to swing her round to face him in front of the whole department, drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness.
But of course, he hadn’t.
He’d let her walk away, and a week later, he’d left without even bidding her farewell. He’d packed a small bag and gone to live over the mountains. And there in Selig, he’d let his heart burn to a cinder in his chest and his emotions die on the embers of his self-hatred and remorse.
And now here they were, three years on.
And time had done nothing to heal his pain or slake his longing for Clare Doyle.
He realized they’d driven the last mile in silence, his mind grinding over memories while Clare stubbornly stared out of the passenger window, face averted. He wondered if the same memories were playing through her mind.
He drew the car up abruptly as a neutral female voice on the navigation system announced,“You have reached your destination.”
“Okay, let’s do this,” he said curtly.
She gave barely a grunt of acknowledgement.
Damn the woman, let her sulk.
He got out and slammed the car door, then heard hers slam too.
Then he heard her soft footsteps follow him up the steps of Natalie Spriggs’ apartment block.
Clare stared around the interior of the small apartment. It was so like Natalie, neat and orderly. Although she clearly hadn’t chosen the large and rather ugly goblin furniture, she’d left delicate little tokens of herself all around.
The dried flowers in a vase, a neon sign above the dresser that read “believe in yourself.” Her favorite teddy propped up on the pillows. Clare’s mouth twisted; she remembered that teddy. Natalie had been a sweet superstitious soul, believing in talismans to keep her safe.
Except they hadn’t in the end, had they?
