Double Standards, page 25
“So, who else wants to get shit-faced and forget all about being alone for Christmas?” They cheered, and the music started.
“I tried to find you at the bottom of a bottle,
Layin’ down on the bathroom floor.
My loneliness was rattlin’ the windows
You said you don’t want me anymore.
And you left me…”
The chorus of “Wasting All These Tears” picked up, and I felt the first of many tears spill out of my eyes.
“Standing on the corner cryin’, feeling like a fool for tryin’,
I don’t even remember why I’m wasting all these tears on you.
I wish I could erase our memory
‘Cause you didn’t give a damn about me…”
Everyone in the crowd sang along, and by the time I got to the second chorus, I was throwing every emotion I felt about Liam into the words. When I finished, everyone cheered as I made my way off the stage, tears streaming down my cheeks shamelessly as I went to get another drink.
And that was undoubtedly the start of my depression rearing its nasty head.
Would Christmas Eve ever fucking end? Somewhere around two in the morning, I had left Prohibition after singing several more songs and bonding with other patrons trying to make it through the holidays alone.
I didn’t remember how I got to Sophie’s, but one second I was ordering an Uber and the next I was teetering on my heels outside her door, pounding like my life depended on it as sobs wracked my body.
The door swung open, revealing a groggy Sophie wrapped in a robe. She gasped when she took in my appearance.
I fell against her doorjamb, no longer able to stand. I was too drunk, my feet feeling blistered from the hours I’d spent in my heels, and I could barely breathe. Sophie pulled me into her comforting arms and closed the door behind her to conserve the warmth of her apartment. She half-carried me to her couch, helping me to sit before bending over to unbuckle my shoes.
“Callie, what’s wrong?” She implored.
I drunkenly wiped the backs of my hands across my eyes so I could look at her more clearly. “H-he en-end-ended th-things,” I stammered, slouching against the back of the couch and wailing.
“Liam did?” I could barely hear her over my crying.
I nodded.
“That son of a bitch,” she cursed.
“Y-you told me to ask how he felt,” I slurred, pausing only to hiccup. “So I did, and he shut me down. Blamed it on O-O-Owen.”
Sophie pulled me into her shoulder, soothing me as she whispered, “It’ll be okay” over and over in my ear, until I was breathing normally again.
“Let me go get you some water.”
She broke our embrace to go to her kitchen, and I sat there staring at the wall until she returned, holding a glass of water in one hand and a change of clothes in the other. She aided me in changing, my limbs not wanting to cooperate as an obscene amount of alcohol raced through me.
“What did you drink tonight? And how much?” She prompted once I was changed.
I tried to mentally count, but ended up thinking out loud. “First scotch, then champagne at the Gala… how many glasses? Three. No, four. A shot of vodka there. Three at the bar when I arrived. Two more after my first karaoke song. Maybe two or three more after that?”
Sophie groaned. “Vodka? Oh, Callie.” Her voice was colored with pity, but she knew me well enough to know what that meant.
I looked at her through my drunken stupor. “I just don’t understand why he did it.”
She gave me a sad smile and pulled a blanket over me. “Get some rest.”
I nodded and curled up in a ball, feeling sleep pull at me within seconds.
Liam
Ending things with Callie was the hardest thing I’d ever done, even harder than pulling the trigger on my divorce. I watched heartbreak settled into every fiber of her being, even though I was being a vindictive asshole to protect my own feelings.
I couldn’t tell her how I felt. I couldn’t do it. I wanted to, but I wasn’t ready. It was so much easier to blame it on her problems with Owen than to admit that I was too much of a pussy to tell her that I was in love with her.
Watching as she walked away without so much as a second glance, I felt my own heart split. I ordered a shot of vodka in honor of Callie, then wandered until I found myself in a bar, drinking to forget what I’d just done.
I didn’t know if I was angrier with myself, with her, or with the situation. All I knew was that I was livid and devastated.
Maybe I shouldn’t have slept with her upstairs. Scratch that, I definitely shouldn’t have. Why did I do that to her? I couldn’t begin to imagine the thoughts racing through her mind.
Within an hour, I was taking a nice young woman named Kelsey back to my apartment. She was taller and closer to my age than Callie with dark, near black hair and brown eyes. She was beautiful, and though she was no Callie in bed, she was a good distraction from my self-brought heartache.
Christmas came and went. I had driven Upstate to see my family, actually spending the holiday with them and ignoring their probing questions into the mysterious woman I’d left for on Thanksgiving.
I came back that night and called Kelsey just to avoid being alone with my thoughts. She happily came over, and her presence helped me feel less bitter. I was dreading having to face the music tomorrow, but knew I needed to eventually.
I awoke the day after Christmas with a heartbreak hangover. I glanced over at Kelsey’s hair splayed across the pillow, and remembered when just days ago that had been Callie.
“My big, bad detective,” she mumbled, her lips pulling up in the corners as she cracked one eye open.
I felt a little bad about turning around and sleeping with someone else right away. But it was helping… wasn’t it?
I smirked at her, but my heart didn’t leap like it did with Callie. It was a half-smile at best. “What are you going to do about it?”
Kelsey grinned and climbed on top of me, straddling me. She felt foreign, and part of me wanted to run for the hills because it wasn’t Callie, but I forced myself to stay put.
“I’ve got a few ideas,” she whispered in my ear, causing my dick to stir.
I let Kelsey do as she pleased to me, and I enjoyed every fucking minute of it. After all, I was a man with needs.
Okay, that was a lie. I was a man nursing a heartbreak.
I climbed out of bed once we’d finished and peeled the condom off.
“I’d love to see the precinct in person,” Kelsey cooed as she stretched her arms over her head.
I looked at her inquisitively. I’d only slept with her twice…
Fuck it.
“Tell you what, if you can bring me a coffee on your lunch break, I’ll show you around.”
“Deal,” she agreed, bouncing up and down on my bed. She got herself dressed, kissed my cheek, and left so she could get ready for work.
I’d like to say that I really did want her to bring me coffee just so I could see her, but then I’d be lying. And lying wasn’t my thing.
Except when you’re lying about your feelings for Callie, my subconscious sneered.
I sighed. The truth was, I was hoping it would bother Callie as much as it bothered me that she couldn’t be mine.
And it was all my doing.
I anxiously awaited Callie’s arrival as I sat at my desk. It was 7:45 a.m., and I knew she’d be walking in at any second. I was guessing she’d be back to the cold, distant woman I met when I first transferred to Newark and was mentally preparing myself for the worst. What happened next took me by complete surprise.
Sophie stormed into my office, slamming the door behind her so hard the walls rattled. I jumped to my feet. The look on her face was unadulterated, unforgiving fury.
“What the fuck did you do?” She shouted, her dark eyes flaring as her hands balled into fists.
I sucked in a breath. Oh, shit. I hadn’t prepared myself for this. “I couldn’t tell her.”
She took a few steps closer to me. As short as she was, the power she exuded was intimidating. “You’ve fucked up bad, Liam. Worse than you can imagine.”
I gulped. “Where’s Callie?”
Her eyes gleamed with disbelief. “You end things with her and then have the audacity to ask where she is? For your information, she came to my apartment nearly blacked-out, more of an emotional mess than I’ve ever seen her. I trusted you to take care of her. You’ve let me, Terry, and Callie down.” She spun on her heel and left the office, leaving me more grief-ridden at what I’d done.
I sat back down at my desk and ran my hands down my face. Moments later Callie strolled in, catching me off guard, and all my preparation went out the window.
The woman before me was a shell of Callie. She wore black sunglasses that she only removed when she was at her desk. Even though her shoulders were rolled back, she was walking with defeat weighing her down.
Her hair was hanging in a messy braid down her back, like she’d slept in it for nights and hadn’t touched it during the day. The heels she normally sported were replaced with combat boots, and even her makeup couldn’t conceal her puffy eyes. She wore grey jeans and a fitted white long sleeve—in other words, the opposite of what she normally wore. There was no emotion on her face or in her vacant stare, and she didn’t acknowledge my existence at all.
I turned my attention back to my computer screen. I couldn’t blame her. What I’d done was fucked up. How could I expect her to act even remotely normal toward me? I didn’t deserve any of her attention.
I exhaled sharply as I focused on my work for the remainder of the morning, looking up only when Hailey, Terry’s assistant, poked her head into our office. She fixed her gaze on me and smiled.
“Mr. Chandler, you have a visitor.”
My stomach dropped, and in my peripheral vision I saw Callie’s head snap up. I instantly regretted what was about to happen. I walked toward the door as Kelsey appeared behind Hailey, wearing a navy pantsuit and white pointy-toed heels. She looked good, her confidence displayed for anyone to see.
“Kelsey, hey,” I greeted, giving her a quick kiss on her glossy lips when she leaned in for it. It felt so very wrong. I looked over at Callie, who had trained her eyes on her screen. “This is my partner, Callie Eden. Callie, this is Kelsey Smithers.”
Callie rose to her feet, walked over, and gave Kelsey a terse handshake. “It’s a pleasure,” she mumbled with a curt smile.
Kelsey beamed at Callie, and shame chipped away at me.
“Good to meet you,” Kelsey said.
“Kelsey works as a paralegal for the D.A.,” I announced, trying to break the awkward tension between Callie and I. Callie didn’t so much as look at me. I took the coffee Kelsey offered me. “Anyway, thanks for the coffee, Kels. I’ll walk you out.”
Kelsey smiled once more at Callie and waved at her as we left my shared office. It killed me to see how hurt Callie was, even if she was doing her best to conceal it. Damn me.
“So, like, is it weird having a female partner?” Kelsey asked as I walked her downstairs.
I shrugged, still hung up on Callie’s fake smile for my benefit. “Not really. Callie’s the best partner I’ve had.” It was true. She was the most dedicated, hard-working person I’d ever had the pleasure of working with.
“She’s really pretty,” she went on, clearly pressing to see if there was anything going on between us.
You have no idea, I thought.
I shrugged again. “This is my job. I don’t shit where I eat.” Lies. I just blatantly lied to her, even though I knew it’s highly unlike me. Why was I doing this?
Maybe I’d fucked up so bad that my own moral compass was spinning relentlessly with no clear direction.
Kelsey giggled, her hair moving with her. “Okay, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t have anything to worry about.”
I stepped outside with her, meeting her gaze. The sunlight hit her face highlighting the gold flecks in her eyes. “You don’t. As long as you’re okay with her texting me early in the morning or late at night, or me working late with her on our cases.”
“I trust you,” she told me, pecking me on the lips before strutting away.
Why was I allowing this woman to treat me like we were in a relationship when I just ended things with the perfect woman for the very same reason?
I huffed and forced myself to go back to the office to make sure Callie was okay, even though I knew it wasn’t my place to do so. I found the papers from Callie’s desk strewn across the room, and Callie was nowhere to be found.
Callie
As if nursing a killer hangover weren’t bad enough, I had to face Liam. It was the day after Christmas and I was at my lowest. I hadn’t washed my hair in three days, and I felt the worst I ever had. But I forced myself out of bed, told Owen I was still at Sophie’s, and went to work with the minimum amount of effort required.
I didn’t look at him all morning. I didn’t speak to him. I let the animosity between us hang in the air until Liam’s new side piece showed up. She was a tall, dark-haired goddess, with a beautiful pouty smile. She was nice enough, but the sight of them kissing churned my stomach. How he could be so goddamn cruel, I wasn’t sure. He’d already made it clear we were done.
As soon as they left and the door closed behind them, I angrily shoved all the papers off my desk and ran out of the room.
Fuck this day. Fuck Liam. Fuck this. Fuck it all to Hell.
As I burst into the women’s bathroom, my phone pinged from a Google alert. ‘Wring Bearer strikes again. Instead of Santa Claus, residents of Newark get Krampus. Twice in one night, like the monster we all fear lives under our beds.’
Or in our heads, I thought as I grimaced at the screen. Could this day get any fucking worse?
“Shit,” I grumbled. I went back to my office, grabbed my purse, and left. I didn’t bother waiting for Liam to come back to the office. He’d hear about it soon enough and meet me there.
“What do you know about this crime scene?” I asked, pushing my sunglasses further up the bridge of my nose to conceal my swollen eyes. They seemed to be in a perpetual state of puffiness.
The same responding officer from Melanie Sander’s case was here now, Officer Dodson. He’d opened his mouth to respond when he paused and frowned. “Where’s your partner? That Liam guy. He’s so cool,” he said, a lopsided smile stretching his lips from ear to ear.
Of course. Everything is about Liam.
I scoffed. “Officer Dodson, do I look like I need a man to do my damn job?”
Officer Dodson’s smile dropped. “No ma’am. I apologize if I—”
“Don’t apologize. Continue with the information.”
Dodson looked down at his notepad with a scowl. “This is Hunter Pewie. She was employed over in NYC as a big-shot real estate agent. She was reported missing yesterday when she didn’t show up at the office and didn’t answer her phone. She was found here in Branch Brook Park by a homeless man around 2 a.m.”
“And the homeless man is where?”
Officer Dodson nodded toward something behind me. I looked over my shoulder, spotted a man speaking to another officer, and thanked Dodson before walking over.
“Excuse me, sir?” I said. The man looked over at me and gave me a crooked smile. “Hi, I’m Detective Callie Eden. I just wanted to find out what happened.”
The man looked me up and down and licked his lips. I rolled my eyes behind my sunglasses.
“What’s your name?”
“Dennis Gunther,” he replied.
“Can you tell me what you saw?”
“Yes ma’am. I was digging through that garbage can over there,” he said, pointing at one beside a bench, “when I saw her just laying on the bench. Her clothes were way too fancy to be out here. Plus, we don’t see lots of women out at night.”
Right, because we’re targets. My subconscious was being ruthless, and for good reason. She’d been scorned.
“You didn’t see anyone else out here?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, like I said I was digging through the trash when I saw her. So I pulled out her phone and called 9-1-1.”
I paused. “Her phone was on her?”
Dennis nodded, his dark matted hair bouncing slightly. “Yes. There was a number that had been dialed from it lots of times, so I dialed it and it was the police.”
Strange it was unlocked. “Thank you, sir. If we need any more information from you, where can we find you?”
He shrugged. “I’m usually around.”
I thanked him before turning and walking over to the body, turning this information over in my head. He had called my precinct. That’s a random number to have dialed over and over again…
The body showed the exact same ligature marks, missing wedding ring—which she was laying on, and another note rolled up in her mouth, with the letters AD written on it.
One other key detail: she also looked a scary amount like me. Chocolate brown hair, but hers was chopped at the shoulders, complimented by an oval face, similar in height and age, and blue eyes.
That can’t be a coincidence, I thought, knowing damn well those rarely existed and this was now the second time it had happened.
I wrapped up my walk-through of the crime scene and then headed over to the next one. I looked at the clock on my dash. It read 1:17 p.m. Hmm… no sign of Liam.
Not like I cared. A lump lodged itself in my throat at the thought of seeing him, so I focused on driving the short way before parking at First Street Park. I climbed out just before 1:30, irritated from fighting traffic on the short commute over here. I noted the proximity between dump sites indicated the killer had likely dumped them in quick succession.
I approached this scene’s responding officer, asking her the same questions as I did Officer Dodson.
“Not much to tell. I found her while on morning patrol. I checked her pulse, found none, and called it in,” Officer Martinez told me. “Matches the M.O. of your other cases. She even looks like you,” she added, looking me up and down.
