Pieces Of Heaven (Heaven & Hell #2)(3)

She walks into the kitchen, dropping her purse down on the table. She looks like she just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Everything matches, right down to the jewelry she's wearing. She has some kind of complicated scarf around her neck that drapes over her stylish shirt that coordinates perfectly with her flowered skirt, all leading down to a sexy pair of wedge sandals. Hell, her outfit probably cost more than my couches.



       
         
       
        

She walks up to me, snaking her hand up my chest to wrap around my neck. "Hey, baby, I missed you." She leans in, kissing me on my neck.

"Yeah." I find it very hard to believe that she missed me. "My cock maybe. But me? That's debatable."

"You know I miss you. I sent you a text." She places both arms around my neck.

"Really?" I ask. "I didn't get anything."

I can see the fucking lie on her face. I'm a detective, for Christ's sake. Doesn't she realize I can see right through her?

"You know, I've been thinking, Sandie." I take her hands from around my neck, pushing her away gently. "How much fucking longer is this shit going to go on? Aren't you fucking tired of leading a double life?" I pick up my beer, taking another pull from it. "I know I'm about fucking done. You're never going to leave him, and I'm tired of being that other guy." I place the beer back down and assess her. Tears are welling in her eyes.

"I just finished filing divorce papers. He is being served tomorrow. It's time we start our lives." She comes to me again. "It's time I show the world that I'm yours and you are all mine."

These are the words I've been waiting to hear for seven years, words that make my heart beat faster, words that make me feel wanted for the first time in my life.

"Promise?" I ask her, not sure if I should take the bait, if I should get my hopes up.

"Promise, baby," she says right before she smashes her lips on mine, and we spend the next few hours fucking in my kitchen.

Lying on the couch with her on top of me, I hear my phone ringing from my jeans that are heaped in a pile on the kitchen floor.

I run to them to see Thomas's name flash on the screen. Fuck!

"Sup?"

"Hey, Mick, it's Thomas. Got a call from a woman named Marissa about her runaway daughter, Lori. Captain says it's your case."

I put the beer that I was just about to open down on the counter. "Yeah, it's our case. What you got?"

"Kid called home, mother was hysterical. Good luck with that one. I texted you her address."

"Thanks. I'll check it out and take care of it." I hang up, looking at the text at the same time I'm dialing Jackson.

"Yo," he answers, his voice tight.

"We just got a call from that girl, Lori's mother. She got a phone call from her today. She is freaking out. Called the precinct looking for you, but they called me first."

"I can be ready in ten. Where should I pick you up?"

I hear him rushing around, knocking shit down. 

"Um, how about I just meet you at the station in about thirty minutes?" I look over at the couch where Sandie hasn't moved.

"Station, eh? Should I even ask where you are or are we not getting into it now?"

"I'll see you in thirty." I hang up without acknowledging his question.

By the time I make it outside, I'm already running through the details of the case. Lori, age seventeen, started hanging with the wrong crowd, and then one day, she just didn't come home. Her mother hasn't seen or heard from her since. Until today.

Friends say she's been in touch with them. The thing is, she's seventeen, so it's hard not to consider that this might be a case of a teenager just wanting her freedom. Her mother said that lately she'd become more distant than usual, and her grades began slipping. When she confronted her, they had a big argument that ended in Lori storming out of the house and not coming back.

I make it to the precinct at the same time that Jackson pulls up. I wait for him to get out of his car before I leave mine.

"Your shirt is buttoned wrong."

I look down at my shirt and see that my shirt is, in fact, buttoned wrong. After hanging up the phone with Jackson, I was too busy rushing to get out of there, placing a kiss on Sandie's head with a promise to text her later.

"Fuck." I go about righting my shirt. "I wasn't expecting to be called in. I was … "

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I just hope you know what you're doing." He makes his way over to our unmarked car.

"I know what you're going to say, so we can just skip this whole bullshit conversation right now." I pull into traffic, heading toward the center of town.

"I wasn't going to say anything. You're a grown ass man. You know what you're doing." He stares straight ahead.

"She says she's leaving him. I have to believe her," I say to the windshield, instead of turning to look at him.

"She said that last time, too, didn't she? Strung you along for four months before she told you she couldn't do it right then. Then there was your birthday, when she showed up and spent the whole weekend telling you she left him, only to go back home on Monday. Trust me, I remember. It was me who found you after you lost yourself in the bottom of a bottle of Jack. It wasn't pretty." He isn't fucking wrong. It's been a fucking roller coaster, to say the least.

"She said it's finally time. She loves me."

He shakes his head, knowing this is a game Sandie is playing with me. He knows she's been stringing me along for the last seven fucking years now.

"I want nothing more than for that to be true. You know this. But it shouldn't be this hard, Mick." He wants to continue, but knowing that he's going to start sounding a bit too much like Dr. Phil, he backs off and continues staring out the window.





Chapter Five


Mick


When we pull up to the address on the text that Thomas sent me, Lori's mother's house, I'm instantly on alert because we're now in the projects. The five matching apartment buildings are known around here as Welfare Avenue.

A couple teenagers on the corner try to be intimidating and let us know we're on their turf, puffing out their chests and taking us in. Right in the middle of the group is the leader of the pack. The two I suspect are his seconds are right beside him, chewing on toothpicks, sizing us up with their cell phones in their hands.

We open the door, unsurprised the lock is broken, allowing anyone to just walk in. The hallway is dark, with just a few lights working, while most are broken and a few are flickering. I bring my hand to my nose to block out the burning sensation from the stench of urine. We get to the third floor and make our way to the door with the number five on it.



       
         
       
        

Jackson knocks on the door twice, taking a step back while I look over his shoulder, making sure we aren't going to be ambushed.

We hear the locks clicking open, but neither of us is prepared for the sight we are met with.

A tiny girl, maybe all of five foot one, opens the door, wearing tight booty shorts and a tank top that has seen cleaner days. Brown hair that is at least clean sits in a messy bun on the top of her head. Her face is free of makeup.

"Are you the cops?" she asks, her voice soft, yet trying to be hard.

"Yes, ma'am. Are you Marissa, Lori's mom?" Jackson says, flashing her his badge. "May we come in?"

I don't bother with mine since she moves to the side holding on to the open door, ushering us in. I look around once I get in, and I have to admit I'm kind of shocked. Inside is completely neat and clean. The furniture looks almost new, and a television sits in the corner. There is a small kitchen with no table, just two stools.

Two bedrooms open to the living room, both rooms looking clean with beds and a few other pieces of furniture. I can tell one is obviously a teenager's from the posters hanging on the wall.

"Please have a seat. Can I get you anything?" She's nervous. I know this because she is wringing her hands.

"We're good, thanks," Jackson answers her while he goes to sit down, and I stand by the kitchen, leaning against the wall. I'm letting Jackson take the lead with this one.

"So you called in saying Lori got in touch with you?"

"Yes. I got a call on my cell phone sometime after ten a.m. I was asleep, but the minute I heard her ringtone I flew out of bed."

"What did she say?"

"She said she was fine and to call off the dogs." She looks between Jackson and me.

"You weren't here when she went missing, right?" I ask her from my side of the room.

"I was here when she left, but it was when I got home from work at three a.m. that I noticed she hadn't returned." She looks down at her hands. "I was working. She usually just texts me, but since we got into a fight the night before I just thought she was pissed off."

"You're a stripper, right? Is there any way she got ahold of your drugs or saw something she shouldn't have?" As the words come out of my mouth, even I'm shocked. I have never ever assumed the worst of anyone in my life. But the fact that she is a stripper is hitting pretty close to home.