Chapter 24 Morning After (Donald Eric POV)
Dawn light filters through Dora's blinds. I'm awake before my alarm, staring at the ceiling. Her arm is draped across my chest, her breathing soft and steady against my shoulder. I don't want to move. Don't want to break whatever peace we found in the dark.
But my phone buzzes on the nightstand. Silent mode, but the vibration is loud enough. I reach for it carefully, sliding out from under her arm.
Hayes: Captain wants you in at 7. Don't be late.
I set the phone down and look back at Dora. She's still asleep, hair spread across the pillow, one hand curled under her chin. Peaceful. The only peaceful thing left in my life.
I dress quietly, yesterday's clothes, wrinkled and smelling like her apartment. In the bathroom, I splash water on my face, run my fingers through my hair. The mirror shows a man who looks ten years older than he did a month ago.
Back in the bedroom, I scribble a note on the pad by her nightstand: Had to go. Call you later. -D
I kiss her forehead. She stirs but doesn't wake.
The drive to the precinct takes fifteen minutes. Streets are empty, sun just starting to climb. I stop at a gas station, grab coffee that tastes like burnt plastic. Drink it anyway.
The precinct smells like floor wax and stale donuts. Murphy's at the desk, reading his paper.
"Morning, Detective."
"Murphy."
"Captain's waiting. Conference room."
"Yeah, I know."
The bullpen's quiet. Night shift's filing out, day shift trickling in. Jenkins waves from the break room, mouth full of something. I don't wave back.
Hayes is already at her desk, two coffee cups in front of her. She pushes one toward me when I pass.
"You look like hell."
"Good morning to you too."
"Didn't sleep?"
"Some."
She studies me over her mug. "Where were you last night? After you left."
"Home."
"Your car wasn't in your lot."
I stop, turning to face her. "You checking up on me now?"
"Just observant." She stands, grabbing a folder. "Come on. Captain's waiting."
We head to the conference room. Rivera's already there, sitting beside Captain Hendricks. A third person I don't recognize...suit and tie, FBI badge clipped to his belt.
"Eric. Hayes. Sit." The captain gestures to the chairs across from them.
We sit. Hayes sets the folder on the table.
"This is Agent Daniel E. Johnson, FBI." Hendricks nods toward the suit. "He's consulting on the Eric murders."
Johnson extends a hand. I shake it. Firm grip, assessing eyes.
"Detective Eric. Sorry about your family."
"Thanks."
"Let's get to it." Hendricks opens a file. "No new leads on Robert or Margaret. Forensics came back clean, no prints, no DNA, no trace evidence. Whoever this is, they're professional."
"Contract killer," Hayes says. "We established that yesterday."
"Right." Hendricks looks at Johnson. "Which is why Agent Johnson's here. FBI's database might have something we don't."
Johnson pulls out his laptop, turning it to face us. "I ran the M.O. through our system. Three matches, all unsolved, all within the last five years. Chicago, Atlanta, Denver. Different victims, no obvious connection. But the precision, the staging... it's the same signature."
"Same killer?" I ask.
"Likely."
"Any leads on who hired him?" Hayes asks.
"None. The killer's a ghost."
Hendricks clears his throat. "Which brings us to you, Detective Eric. We need to figure out who wants you destroyed."
"I've been going through my cases," I say. "Anyone I've put away, anyone I've pissed off. Nothing stands out."
"Keep digging." Hendricks stands. "In the meantime, your aunt, brother, and niece remain under protection. We've assigned units to each of them. Rotating shifts, twenty-four seven."
"How long can we keep that up?"
"As long as it takes." He looks at Johnson. "FBI's taking lead on the investigation now. You'll assist, but Agent Johnson calls the shots."
I start to protest, but Hendricks cuts me off.
"That's not up for debate. You're too close to this, Eric. We need fresh eyes."
I bite down the argument. "Understood."
"Good. Hayes, you're with Johnson. Eric, you're on desk duty until further notice."
"Sir..."
"Desk duty. Better than being benched. That's final."
The meeting ends. Johnson gathers his files, shaking hands with Hendricks before leaving. Rivera lingers, her expression unreadable.
"A word, Detective Eric?"
Hayes shoots me a look before stepping out. The door closes, leaving me alone with Rivera.
"You're holding up well," she says.
"Doing my best."
"Let me be clear. If you crack, if you do something stupid, it's not just your career on the line. It's everyone's. Mine, Hayes's, the captain's. So whatever you're thinking, whatever you're planning... don't."
I meet her eyes. "I'm not planning anything."
"Good. Keep it that way."
She leaves, and I sit there, staring at the empty conference room. The walls feel like they're closing in.
Back at my desk, Hayes is waiting. She's got that look, the one that says she's about to ask something I won't like.
"What?" I say, dropping into my chair.
"We need to talk."
"About?"
She glances around, then lowers her voice. "Dora."
My chest tightens. "What about her?"
"I ran her number yesterday. The one in your phone."
"You went through my phone?"
"Don't make this harder than it is." She pulls out a printout. "Prepaid cell. No records, no name attached. Bought with cash three months ago."
"So she's private. A lot of people use burner phones."
"Not a lot of people show up in a detective's life right before his family starts getting murdered."
The words hit like a punch. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying it's suspicious. And if I noticed, Rivera will too." She leans forward. "Who is she, Don? Really?"
"Her name's Dora. She moved here a few months ago. She's a financial consultant."
"From where?"
"London."
"You verify that?"
"No, because I'm not interrogating my girlfriend."
"Maybe you should." She taps the printout. "Because right now, she's a red flag. And if Rivera digs into her, if she finds something you didn't..."
"There's nothing to find."
"You sure about that?"
I grab the printout, crumpling it. "Stay out of my personal life, Hayes."
"This isn't personal. It's professional. And it's my ass on the line too." She stands. "I'm just saying... be careful. Because if she's not who she says she is, you need to know before everyone else does."
She walks away, leaving me sitting there, the crumpled paper in my fist.
I spend the next hour buried in files. Desk duty means paperwork, witness statements, forensic reports, evidence logs. Mind-numbing, but it keeps me from thinking about Hayes's words.
My phone buzzes. Text from Dora: Found your note. Coffee later?
I type back: Can't today. Swamped. Tomorrow?
Okay. Miss you.
I stare at the message, Hayes's voice echoing in my head. Right before his family starts getting murdered.
No. That's insane.
I lock my phone and pull up my contact list. Scroll to Linda's number. I haven't called her in months. Maybe a year.
I hit dial.
It rings three times before she picks up. "Donnie? Is that you?"
Her voice is warm, familiar. Maternal in a way my own mother never was.
"Hey, Aunt Linda."
"Oh my God, Donnie. I've been worried sick. The police called yesterday, said someone's trying to hurt the family. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Just wanted to check on you."
"I'm fine too. They've got a nice officer sitting outside my house. Young guy, reminds me of you when you first started." She pauses. "You sound tired, honey."
"Just a long week."
"It's more than that. I can hear it in your voice." Her tone softens. "When's the last time you took a break?"
"I don't know. Ma I..."
"Donnie."
"I know, I know. I'll rest when this is over."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
She sighs. "I wish you'd come visit. It's been too long. When's the last time you were out here?"
"Maybe three."
"Three years. My God." She laughs softly. "Well, after this case is solved, you're coming to Phoenix. I'll make your favorite, pot roast, mashed potatoes, the works."
"Sounds good, Linda."
"I mean it. You need a break from all this. From that town, from that job. It's eating you alive."
"I'll come. After this is over."
"You better." Her voice drops. "I love you, Donnie. Be safe."
"Love you too."
The call ends. I sit there, phone in hand, staring at nothing.
Linda. Warm, loving, the closest thing to a mother I've had since mine died. And someone wants her dead because of me.
My hands curl into fists. Whoever's doing this, whatever game they're playing, it ends. Soon.