Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly before he began. “Allison, I’m sorry if you thought our relationship was moving in any direction other than what it was—casual and convenient. You knew I worked for the Police Department when you met me, and you know that I can get a call at any time. You’re standing here all pissed at me because I’m out doing my job. You’re also pissed at me because I didn’t read your mind about expecting a change in our relationship when we never even hinted that that was what either of us wanted.”
Her jaw tightened as her lips pinched. “I know you can get called out at any time, Carter. But that’s another problem. You don’t have to be.”
His head jerked slightly to the side, hearing her words but not understanding her meaning.
“My father’s law office employs several private detectives. And, I have no doubt, they get paid more than you do.” Her lips curved slowly at the sides, a smile that reminded him of the Grinch, full of plots and plans but no true happiness. “I thought I would wait until our relationship moved forward to let you know that you could work for him. But maybe now is the time to bring it up.” She stepped forward and placed her hand flat on his chest, her gaze dropping from his eyes to his mouth. “Think about it. Working for a prestigious law firm or wasting your skills on the great unwashed of Hope City. After all, it’s not like you're a high-profile homicide detective. Jesus, Carter—a drug cop? Having to work with the homeless? That’s barely a step above being a street cop.” Biting the corner of her lip, she smiled again.
As she stepped closer, he jerked his hands up to clasp her shoulders and keep her from pressing against him. Allison had certainly shown a great interest in his detective career when she thought he worked on high profile cases. But she’d lost interest very quickly when she’d discovered he was not a homicide detective, certainly not one working on a media-laden case.
Thoughts slammed through his mind so quickly they crashed together, but one image came to the forefront… the unknown young man who now lay in the morgue.
With his hands holding her in place, Carter stepped backward, needing the distance. He watched her brow crinkle in surprise. “You need to leave, Allison. I won’t be calling and won’t accept calls from you anymore. What we had will never become anything more and now only leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
Understanding moved over her face, and her incredulity would have been funny if he’d found any of their conversation amusing at all. Tilting her head toward the front of his condo, she lifted an eyebrow. “I walk out that door, I’ll never walk back through. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
He nodded and held her gaze. “Yes, and that would be good.”
She jerked backward as though slapped. With narrowed eyes, she turned and reached for her coat and purse. Watching her stalk toward the door, he expected a parting shot and was not surprised to receive one.
“The best thing that could’ve happened to you and your career is leaving.” With that, she left, slamming the door behind her.
He stood, his feet rooted to the floor, his chin to his chest, staring at his feet before lifting his hand to the back of his neck, once more squeezing in an effort to relieve the tension. Tension that came not from the scene in his apartment but from the scene of death still needing to be processed.
Allison didn’t get it; she never would. He was not a detective for glory. There sure as hell would not be riches or accolades. But that young man had had a life in front of him, now cut short, and Carter wanted to find out why—and where the hell the bag of prescription drugs had come from.
It now felt like a whiskey night, and he headed into the kitchen. After grabbing a glass, he poured a generous amount of the amber liquid and walked past the sofa Allison had reclined on, moving instead to the large picture window that faced the Inner Harbor. Taking a deep swallow, he welcomed the burn from the peaty drink. The city below twinkled with lights, their reflection on the undulating water hiding the ugliness he knew was present in the light of day.
Unlike some people he knew, he wanted a relationship. Someone to come home to. Someone to share his life. But damn. Never met that person. Who knows if I will?
Tossing back the last of his drink, he shoved those thoughts from his head and settled his mind firmly on what needed to be done the next day. Reports to write. Evidence to look at. A trip to the morgue. And another trip to the homeless shelter. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he sighed.
He shook his head on that cheery note and placed his now-empty glass into the sink before going into the bedroom. Looking at his clock, he knew a couple of hours of sleep was all he would manage before he needed to be up and going again. He stared at the empty bed and felt nothing but relief that it was just him crawling between the sheets. Better to be alone than with someone who can’t handle who I am.
Carter’s alarm jarred him awake, and he stared bleary-eyed at the time as he turned it off. Sitting up in bed, he propped his elbows on his knees and rubbed his palms over his eyes. Five hours of sleep. Thank God. When he became a detective, one of the byproducts was insomnia. Plagued with the inability to let go of the cases rolling through his mind, he would get up and read until falling asleep or it was time to get up. It was rare for
