Page 97 of Beneath the Quiet

“Just think about it. I don’t need your answer yet.”

“Listen to me carefully. Blackmail’s a quick way to end up in prison. Believe me, you don’t want that.”

“Tsk. Blackmail is such a nasty word. That’s not at all what I’m doing.”

“Leave me alone, Dot,” I seethe. “If you go down this route, you’ll drown.”

The line goes dead, leaving me to deal with the usual bitter aftertaste of hatred the only way I know how.

I bury the conversation in the back of my mind and go to work.

Daydreaming is over.

I look down at the distressed woman in front of me and offer a reassuring smile.

At least I hope it looks that way, even though I feel far from it.

“Look, I’m sure Henry will be home very soon, Mrs. Dunn. He’s probably not missing.”

Mrs. Dunn fumbles with a hankie and blows her nose, a worried crease sharply etched between her eyebrows. I have to pull on all my sensitivity training, so I don’t frighten the elderly lady. The last thing I want is to push too hard. She slumps in her wheelchair, deflated, her chin wobbling.

“He’s never been gone for so long before.”

I nod and glance down at the half-finished report on the desk. “You stated that it’s been an hour since you last saw him?”

Her face bobs up and down so quickly that I’m worried she’ll pull a muscle. “Yes, that’s right. It’s not like him. He usually stays close to me and the house.”

I nod slowly. “I see. But…” I take a deep breath, trying to find my patience. “Since Henry’s a cat, he’s bound to go on walkabouts that sometimes take him farther away from home. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

I glance at Franny and take a step back.

“Are you sure, Detective?”

“Positive.” I fold the unfinished report in half and tuck the paper in my back pocket. “He knows where his home is.”

She opens her mouth, but Franny steps in before the older woman gets a word out. “I’ll come by after work and check he’s come back, Mrs. Dunn. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

I let out a low sigh of relief and turn on my heel to make my escape. The headache from earlier has returned with full force, pounding in my temples, and I fist my hands at my sides. Even though I feel the telltale signs of my rising temper, I make a beeline towards my boss’s office. I rap my knuckles on the door and open it before waiting for an answer. O’Neills sits at his desk, head turned to his laptop, but he looks up when I enter it. He furrows his brows.

“I never thought I’d get to the point where I’d work at a station where I’d be expected to file a missing person’s report for runaway pets,” I rant. “That’s not why I agreed to come here, for God’s sake.” From the corner of my eye, a shadow moves, alerting me that we’re not alone, and I jerk my head to face the stranger.

I stiffen, and a small sound escapes my throat.

It can’t be.

“Colin?”

My ex-fiancé tips an imaginary hat at me, a move so out of character for him that I have to work hard on not snorting in disbelief.

“Hello, Maeve.”

I stiffen my spine and move closer to the desk, deliberately ignoring the two-faced lying snake, focusing on my boss instead.

“What’s going on, Sir?”

He scratches his chin, eyes flickering between the two of us. “Fitzpatrick here has news about the man who shot you.”

I cross my arms, hating that I have no choice but to talk with him. “Well?”