My eyes narrowed at her lie. “Really?”
“I won’t do it again,” she whispered. “Please.”
I let her arm go and took a deep breath. Without a trace on her hands, I couldn’t prove she’d been spray-painting. All I could show was that she was with the crowd, which meant she’d probably get a slap on the wrist and a one-way ticket to California from social services. So instead of dragging her to my cruiser, I put one finger in her face. “This is your once. Your one chance. If I catch you again, I’ll drive your ass to California myself.”
“Thank you.” She threw her arms around my middle. “Thank you.” The second she let me go, she turned and ran in the opposite direction.
“Be good!” I called to her back.
“I will!” She waved and disappeared around the corner.
“Cole.” Matt put his hand on my shoulder. “Cole, are you okay?”
I watched as Simmons steered Nina Veras down the hallway. When they were out of sight, I shook my head, sinking to the floor as the world tipped upside down.
If not for me, Nina Veras would have gone back to California.
She would have been in the system. She would have been a thousand miles away from the liquor store and Samuel Long.
And Poppy’s husband would be alive.
Three days later . . .
The shrill ring of my alarm sent blinding pain through my skull. I buried my face in the pillow as I hammered my fist on the nightstand, missing the alarm the first time but smashing it silent with the second. Then I covered my head with another pillow—Poppy’s pillow—and willed the pounding in my temples to stop.
“Fuck,” I groaned as it just got worse.
I couldn’t gripe. I’d earned this hangover. For everything that I’d done, this was just a fraction of the punishment I deserved.
It had been three days since I’d gone to Poppy’s house and told her the news. Three days since I’d sat by her side on that single porch step and explained it all. How Nina Veras had killed Jamie. How she’d eluded the police and escaped. How the only reason she’d even been in Montana was because I’d been too much of a pushover to send her ass back to California.
How the loss of Poppy’s husband had been my fault.
She had stayed silent as I made the confession. She’d sat like stone, staring blankly at her front yard. The only movement came from her shallow breaths and the tears streaming down her face as I broke her heart. Only after I’d been done, after we’d sat in excruciating silence for an hour, had she finally asked me to leave.
Driving home that night, I knew I’d lost her.
I’d texted her the next day, just to check in, but hadn’t gotten much of a response. I’m fine. Just busy. I’ll call soon.
Busy.
I’m sure she’d been busy. Busy telling her family and Jamie’s the news of the investigation. Busy blocking me from her mind.
So I’d spent the last three days locked in my house, waiting for the phone to ring, mourning the best thing I’d ever had and lost.
The bourbon I’d guzzled last night hadn’t helped. My heart was still in pieces—the ache in my chest just another fucking bonus to go along with my splitting headache.
“Cole!” Dad’s shout carried up the stairs.
Goddamn it. I never should have given him my house key. The last thing I wanted was to see Dad. To see the disappointment etched on his face too. I didn’t need a fucking audience as my life spiraled out of control. Couldn’t I just be left to suffer alone?
“Cole!”
I guess not.
Whipping the sheet off my legs, I pushed myself to sitting. The room was spinning as fast as my stomach, but I swallowed down my urge to hurl and stood. On unsteady feet, I shuffled my way out of my bedroom and down the hall.
“Cole! Get your ass down here!”
“I’m coming,” I yelled as loud as my head and raspy voice would allow. “Just give me a fucking second.”
Every step throbbed behind my eyes—the light from the windows only making it worse. By the time I made it downstairs, I walked straight to the couch and collapsed so I wouldn’t puke or pass out. “What are you doing here?”
Dad sighed and sat on the coffee table. “Matt Hernandez called me this morning. He’s been trying to get ahold of you since last night but kept getting voicemail.”
Shit. Where was my phone? It must have died sometime in the evening and I’d been too drunk to notice. Had Poppy tried to call?
“What did Matt want?”
“Just to check in.”
“Did he . . .”
“Tell me you found Jamie Maysen’s killer on Friday? Yeah.”
I grunted. I didn’t have the energy to rehash the story again and I was sure Matt had told him all about Nina Veras. “So?”
“So, I got the story from Matt.” He paused. “And then I went to her house and got the rest from Poppy.”
My eyes flew open as I sat up straight. “You saw her? Is she okay?”
It was New Year’s Day—Jamie’s birthday—and I couldn’t imagine today would be easier on her. I hated that I wasn’t by her side, but the last thing I wanted was my presence making things worse.
“She’s okay. Sad, as to be expected.”
I slumped back into the couch and stared at the ceiling. All that time I’d been working so hard to make Poppy happy. If only I had known that the best thing I could have done for her was to stay away.
“Cole, look at me.” Dad’s eyes softened with his voice. “There’s only one person to blame for that murder. It’s not you.”
I shook my head. “No. No, it is my fault.”
“Bullshit.” His bark made me wince. “We all give warnings. Every single cop in America has given a warning. Whether it be a speeding ticket to a soccer mom. A college kid that’s had too much to drink. Or a girl who was spray-painting an old wall that has since been torn down.
