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“Around two a.m. That’s when Rusty’s closed.”
“The tourist okay?”
“A few stitches. He’ll be fine.”
“Good.” Something else occurred to him. “Where the hell is West?”
“Haven’t seen him.” Frank glanced over his shoulder like the mere mention of their boss might conjure him out of thin air. “More domestic troubles would be my guess.”
In the ensuing silence, Nico let his mind grasp hold of a thought that had been dancing around the outskirts of his awareness, patiently waiting for its turn to be seen. Now that he had, he wished he’d left it where it was. Egged on by everything he and Lexie had talked about, plus George’s temporary residence in their holding cell, he couldn’t help but raise the issue with someone he trusted to be honest about it.
“Frank, I need to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“Do you think it was a mistake for me to come here?”
By now, Frank knew all about Nico’s history; his part in Sara Riley’s discovery in Boston, his role in her death, his accident and why he chose this place to transfer to. The only thing he wasn’t privy to was how involved he and Lexie were becoming, though Nico was sure the local grapevine would be singing that song before too long. Not that it bothered him; he’d be pleased as punch to call her his, and wouldn’t care at all who knew about it. In fact, he welcomed the opportunity.
“Where’s this coming from?” Frank asked.
“Just answer the question.”
He blew out a gust of air and gave Nico a look that told of his reluctance to talk about such a thing when he had so little energy to spare. “Well, I’ll admit, it was a rocky start. Some people were apprehensive, to say the least. A newcomer from the mainland reigning over the place with so much authority when nobody had even heard of you—” He shook his head, like he was validating those reservations. “You’re young, which didn’t help things. And you’re impulsive, which isn’t necessarily a bad quality, but it does reflect poorly on you as lieutenant when you don’t keep yourself in check.”
“I sure hope there’s a ‘but’ coming,” Nico said.
“But, since you came here, morale within the ranks is higher than it’s been in months. You’re listening to complaints, taking citizen concerns seriously, no matter how small, which has assuaged a lot of those initial doubts. You work hard, and you pay close attention to your team, which I know they appreciate. Your youth might make you sloppy, but it also makes you driven. Tenacious. We need that, especially now. To be honest,” he said, leaning forward and lowering his voice so his next words were kept private. “I think everyone is taking a lot more comfort in your investigative experience than you realize.”
Nico, taken aback, couldn’t think of anything to say in return.
“Whatever your original motives were in coming here don’t matter,” Frank continued, carefully sidestepping the sensitive topic of Nico’s presence potentially being insensitive to the Rileys, even if it was coming from a desperate need to do the right thing. “This place is warming to you, whether you succeed in doing what you set out to do, or not. We’ve all made mistakes, Nico. Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be happy.” He stood and regarded Nico with a serious expression. “Mercy Cove is a special place, one worth protecting. Your being here is giving people faith that we can do that. So, no. I don’t think it was a mistake. I think we’re lucky to have you.”
His praise meant more to Nico than he could say, and he got the sense that Frank knew that, because he walked out of his office without another word.
They didn’t speak again for the rest of the day. Frank went home for a few hours of much-needed rest—as did Zoe—while Nico, Seth, and Cora spent the morning processing paperwork from the night before. One thing nobody tells you about being a cop—the absurd amount of time spent behind a desk, even without an active serial killer investigation. Young cadets walked into the job thinking it’s all shooting and car chases and lapping up glory, when in reality, a good portion of the time your gun gathered dust on your hip while you fought the urge to yawn every five minutes, typing reports and following up leads that ninety percent of the time went nowhere. West popped in occasionally, in between a tediously repetitive series of trips home to discourage his wife from packing her bags. Apparently, she’d been threatening to leave for months if he didn’t become a better husband fast, so it was no surprise that he missed the phone call from the lab when it came in at exactly five p.m. Given the gravity of their situation, the powers that be had rushed their blood sample through the queue. When Nico hung up, he dialed Frank’s cell number without delay.
“Still sleeping.” Frank’s voice was gruff.
“Blood results are in,” Nico said.
A moment of silence. “And?”
“It’s human. Female.”
“Shit.” Frank sounded much more alert now. “We got him.”
Nico was already grabbing his jacket. “It’s not a match to either of our victims, but it’s more than enough for a judge to sign off on an arrest warrant. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”
“I’ll only need five.”
“Cora!” Nico called, making his way down the hallway in a hurry. The cantankerous-yet-kindhearted administrator frowned at him over the top of her glasses. “Call West and Zoe. I want everyone here, now. Seth—” He gestured for him to get up. “Come with me. We gotta talk.”
Chapter twenty-six
Lexie switched off the buzzing LED and flipped the closed sign around before reaching back to loosen her apron. It was only eight p.m., but it was Monday, the only day of the week that Rusty’s shut early. After having so little sleep the night before—not that she was complaining about being kept awake by multiple earth-shattering orgasms—she was glad for it. She was off for the next two days and had big plans to start her weekend with a long soak in a warm bubble bath with a good book, then sleeping in as late as she pleased tomorrow. Maybe Nico would join her for that? Sliding the deadbolt across the front doors, watching the summer sun disappear behind the dark horizon, she smiled at the thought of him spending more time in her bed.
“You’re awfully cheerful,” Wade observed from his place by the register. He had the cash drawer open and was counting the day’s earnings. “Do you realize how many times you’ve sighed all content-like today?”
