Page 44 of Cold Mercy

Grace gives me a warning look, but there’s excitement under it too.

“Thomas. I don’t know what’s going on with you today, but your assignment status is active. Even if she’s innocent, she can give us more than the system ever will through official channels, so your request is denied. I’ll see you in a month. Maybe try not to forget your coffee before our meetings.”

She leaves, and the moment the door shuts, I slam my hand into the steering wheel so hard my fingers sting. I don’t want to fucking do this anymore. I drive home, still livid.

The ‘contact’ I told Moreau about? My ex, Evelyn. She’s a detective now, but Moreau doesn’t need that detail. She's the only person from my past who can realistically play the role. She didn’t leave my life on good terms.

I ended it because she wanted more, and I couldn’t give her anything real.

Mostly because I never felt for her what she felt for me.

I text her to meet me in one of the abandoned parking lots on the outskirts of the city. She arrives ten minutes late, her car pulling up beside mine with a crunch of gravel. She gets out without a word, walks straight toward me, and the first thing she does is grab my jaw to kiss me.

“Hey, handsome. Missed me?”

“Evelyn, what the hell are you doing?” I pull back instantly.

She sighs dramatically.

“Okay, fine. Tell me what’s going on, and let’s get this over with. Then we can go meet the widow.”

I don't have the energy for her sarcasm, so I just ignore it.

“Here.” I hand her the folder. “These are the files I prepared myself. On her, and on Mercer. The third one is a real report from the night he died. I didn’t fabricate it since she was there. Undercover, I’m still Thomas, but the last name is Reed, so just call me Thomas.”

She bites her lip.

“Mmm, I kind of like it, ‘Reed.’”

I push through her nonsense.

“She has this version that Aurora killed my father, so we’re ‘working together.’ If she starts talking about anything else, just shift the topic, and I’ll handle it. And don’t repeat this to anyone. You already know too much.

Evelyn narrows her eyes like she’s dissecting me.

“What’s going on with you two? Since when do you go for suspects?”

It hits me in a way I don’t expect. Like she’s calling out something I’ve been avoiding.

“Are you insane? No, she’s unbearable. Half the time I want to shoot myself just to escape her.” I lie so hard it tastes like acid.

“Are you free tonight? I want this done.” I ask.

She gives me this mocking look.

“Sure. Maybe after we can get a drink, like old times.”

“I’ll send you the details.”

I drive home, get changed, and force myself not to think about Moreau. I know where she lives, and I have her number. But I don’t want to see her or hear her voice. Not for a long time.

I send her the message:

“9 PM. Bar at 5th & Hanover. My contact will be there.”

No response.

Princess is offended by the entire fucking universe, apparently. I wish I could go back to cases that don’t come with emotional landmines attached.