Riley Thorn and the Corpse in the Closet by Lucy Score

5

7:01 a.m., Thursday, August 13

“Iforbid it,” Nick announced.

“Excuse me?” Riley opened one eye and frowned at him from the pillow next to his.

Despite the fact that the new bed was a thousand times more comfortable than the old one they’d shared, he’d spent half the night awake, thinking about relationships and corpses in closets.

“I’m your boyfriend, and as such, I forbid you from working with Weber on a case.” There were relationship rules. Even he knew that. Hell, those rules were the reason he’d never settled into a monogamous deal before. But being able to tell someone else what to do was starting to look like a pretty big pro.

Now both of her eyes were open, and there was a fire in them. “You can’t do that.”

“I just did.” He figured it was smart to lead with confidence. Maybe she wouldn’t realize he had no idea what he was doing. What the fuck was he thinking? Of course she would know. She was psychic.

She pulled the comforter over her head. “Ugh. Let’s talk about this when it’s not dawn.”

“No need to talk about this,” he insisted, yanking the blanket back. “You’re not doing it. I’ve decided.”

She shoved a hand through her hair, pushing it off her face. “Listen. I’m trying to cut you some slack here, but you can’t just forbid me from doing something.”

“Am I allowed to go out and sleep with someone else?”

She glared sleepily at him. “No!”

“Neither are you. See? That’s how this works.”

She groaned. “If I’m going to get a relationship lecture from Nick Santiago, I’m going to need coffee.”

“Look. You’re a good girl. Remember?” he said, trying a new tactic. “You want to make other people happy. Make me happy, Thorn. Don’t take this case.”

She sat up. “I don’t know whether to be appalled or impressed that you’re pushing my buttons like this.”

The skinny strap of her tank top slipped off her shoulder, distracting him. “Definitely go with impressed,” he urged, lifting up on his elbow to study her.

“I appreciate that you’re trying to protect me,” she began.

“You’re welcome.” He ran his finger under the wayward strap.

“Nick!”

“You matter, Thorn. The last time you got mixed up in something like this, it almost got you killed. I can’t deal with that. Ergo, you’re not doing it.”

He didn’t feel the need to tell her that he’d yet to sleep the whole way through the night since the last incident because he woke up to make sure she was still next to him, still breathing. That instead of showing her the investigative ropes like he’d promised, he’d shoved her into an office administration job to keep her as far away from bad guys as possible.

He’d fucked up the whole “guardian” thing once already and had paid the price. This time around, he wasn’t taking any chances.

She blew out a breath that ended on a long groan. “I don’t like disappointing you. And I still don’t want this ‘talking to dead people and solving murders’ deal to be my thing.”

“Great. Then don’t.”

“But my scary grandmother is right. I have a responsibility to do something with this…this…” She waved a hand in the air.

“So get a booth at a carnival and tell fortunes.”

“I don’t know a lot about the North American Psychics Guild, but I think they’d be deeply offended by that.”

He took her hand and brought her knuckles to his mouth. “I don’t want you in danger. Ever. Again.”

She softened, then shoved his head into the pillow. “I appreciate that. But unless you’re willing to open up and discuss specifics and how what happened in that fountain relates to what happened to Beth—”

Every muscle in his body tensed. It was like having an orgasm, only painful instead of awesome.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he insisted. “Besides. You’re psychic. Aren’t you in my head poking around all day?”

She looked appalled. “No! I’m not poking around in your thick head all day. That would be unethical. Yes, I can pick up on your feelings. But anyone with an ounce of empathy could do that.”

Things weren’t going in the right direction.

Kicking the covers back, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. He reached for her, snagging the waistband of her sleep shorts. But before he could drag her back to him, she shimmied out of them, dazzling him with bare ass.

“I still have a security camera out there,” he reminded her as she circumnavigated the bed.

The bottomless woman of his dreams flipped him the bird and stalked out into the hall.

He flopped back on the mattress with a sigh. “That went well.”

* * *

The ol’“cop shop” hadn’t changed much since Nick’s days there, he noted as he held the door for a pissed-off-looking wife and her hungover husband. The wife gave him the once over and a bright smile that he returned with a wink.

He waved to the officer on the phone behind the plexiglass partition and pointed toward the door to the bullpen.

“Weber?” he mouthed.

He nodded, and Nick flashed a salute as he headed inside.

The building was old, and so were the furnishings. It smelled like stale coffee and industrial cleaner. The faded linoleum floors had been covered with a budget-level commercial carpet. The windows still sported the dingy film that persevered through the cleaning crew’s best efforts.

Phones rang. Conversations rumbled. A rainbow of perps waited their turn for processing.

He almost missed it.

Almost.

He spotted Weber at his desk, crammed into the corner between the old file cabinets and the restroom. The man was wearing yet another tie from his endless collection, and since it was early, he’d yet to roll up the sleeves of his wrinkle-free shirt. He had his cell phone cradled between shoulder and ear and was typing, the keys on his ancient keyboard clicking loud enough that he kept having to ask the caller to repeat themselves.

Nick’s old desk was occupied by a new detective. She was young, Asian, and wore a suit.

“Nicky Santiago,” Sergeant Mabel Jones, a good cop and a nice ex-girlfriend, appeared at his elbow. She was short and curvy, with dark skin and thick hair she’d tamed into a low bun for the day. “Surprised you didn’t get struck by lightning walking in here. You’re not gonna headbutt anyone, are you?”

Nick glanced in Weber’s direction. The detective held up a finger.

“I can’t promise anything, Jonesy,” he said. “But I might make an effort if you share one of the good K-cups you keep stashed in your bottom drawer.”

She pursed her lips, pretending to consider the offer. “Fine. As long as you make me one too.”

“Deal.”

He commandeered the coffeemaker and went to work on two cups while former coworkers swung by to lay odds on whether he was asking for his job back or if he was taking another swing at his old partner.

Nick delivered Mabel’s coffee before taking the chair in front of Weber’s desk.

“You look like you’re on vacation,” his ex-partner noted, hanging up the phone.

Nick glanced down at his shorts and t-shirt. He’d come straight from the gym after he’d attempted to work out his frustrations via a few hundred reps and four miles on the treadmill. “You look like you’re choking to death on regulations,” he shot back.

“You miss it,” Weber guessed, shuffling papers.

“Like hell.”

“You here to rough me up again?”

Nick took a hit of coffee. “I can’t. Jonesy gave me the good coffee. I have to behave.”

“You know I wouldn’t ask her if it wasn’t important,” Weber said, cutting to the chase as he shuffled files and sticky notes.

“Riley’s going to say yes.”

“Already did. I’m picking her up in twenty to revisit the scene and interview the husband again.”

Nick felt his nostrils flare. His girl worked fast when she was pissed off. “I don’t want her doing this.”

“You made that abundantly clear during your temper tantrum yesterday.”

“She got shot.”

“She threw herself in the line of fire to make sure a bullet hit you in the ass and not the head,” Kellen pointed out. “She handled herself better than some of us do in a fire fight.”

Nick shook his head. “I don’t want her to have to handle herself in a fire fight. She had to throw a gun at that fuck because she didn’t know how to shoot one. She’s not trained for this shit.”

“All I’m asking is for her to tag along on a few interviews and look over the case file,” Kellen reminded him.

“You’re asking her to find a killer. Don’t make it sound like you’re having her swing by the grocery store for pork rinds.”

Kellen steepled his fingers. “I’ve never seen you this worked up over a girl before, Santiago.”

“She’s not just a girl. She’s my girl.”

“Can’t say I blame you. Sure is easy on the eyes.”

Nick slammed his cup down on the desk, sending coffee sloshing over the rim.

“Down boy,” Kellen said with a shit-eating grin. “I’m just returning the favor of pissing you off. This is what it was like with Beth.”

Nick clenched his teeth. They’d been through hell together, and it hadn’t gone well for their friendship. They hadn’t talked about her since Nick’s last day on the force. Before…everything, Weber’s little sister and Nick had acted out a flirtation that had her older brother’s blood pressure spiking every time they were in a room together.

“I was just messing with you, man. It was harmless. I wouldn’t have taken your sister out. There are rules.”

“You don’t do rules.”

“Yeah, well, even when I try to do them, I don’t get them right,” Nick complained.

Kellen waited.

“When you’re in a relationship, isn’t part of the fun being able to tell the other person what they can and can’t do?”

“Yeah, when you’re the woman.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t give me that. You’re telling me that Riley has the right to tell me not to pick up pretty girls at the bar. But I can’t forbid her from working a homicide?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, brother.”

“Fuck. That’s not fair.”

“You can forbid her from picking up guys in bars. But unless you two agree on it, neither one of you can tell the other one what jobs to take. I thought you already learned that with Nature Girls.”

Without his knowledge, Riley had gotten herself a job as a server at a seedy bar that Nick was watching to get to the owner. She’d pranced around in a mini skirt and belly-baring shirt, serving up cheap booze to the dregs of Harrisburg society to get him information.

He’d thrown multiple temper tantrums over it.

Nick groaned. “This is bullshit. It’s for her own good.”

“Try explaining that to her?” Kellen asked.

“Yes.”

His ex-partner stood and shrugged into his suit jacket. “Did you? Or did you just tell her how it was?”

“What’s the difference?”

Kellen grinned. “Man, I gotta tell you it feels good to see you being an idiot up close and in person again.”

“Bite me.”

Kellen rose and nodded toward the door, and Nick followed him.

“Look. All I’m saying is women are more inclined to listen to your Neanderthal demands if you can give them a good reason for it. If you can make a compelling case.”

“So I either pour my heart out to her like a big, dumb baby or I give her veto rights over my work life?” Nick summarized.

Kellen slapped him on the shoulder. “Now you’re getting it.”

“This is why I didn’t want to do this shit,” he complained as they stepped outside into the blistering August heat.

The pavement sizzled, and cicadas buzzed menacingly from the trees on the street.

“But you’re doing it, and you’re doing it for her. She must be pretty special.”

Nick sighed. “She is. Which is why I’m here. You let her get within a city block of trouble, and I will break your face into so many pieces you’ll need a transplant.”

“Message received. I’ll be careful with your girl, Nicky. Make sure you do the same.”

They crossed the lot to Kellen’s shitty department-issue cruiser.

“She wanted to talk about it,” Nick said.

Weber shot him a bland look. “Women tend to like to talk about things.”

“What do you know about women?”

“A hell of a lot more than you. I was married.”

“And how did that work out?”

“You know how it worked out since you were my best man and you helped me move out, asshole.”

Reminding his friend about his own idiocy made Nick feel better about his own. “She wants to talk about Beth,” he said finally.

Kellen’s eyes sharpened. “Does she know something? Has she seen anything?”

Nick shook his head. “No. And I haven’t asked her to look. And you’re not going to either. I don’t want to put her in that position.”

Weber scratched the back of his head. “I get it. Maybe it’s better we don’t know, anyway.”

Nick glanced back toward the building where haggard cops, devastated families, victims, and perpetrators intersected. Sometimes it was better being left with hope instead of answers.

“Speaking of Beth, I need the case file.”

Kellen eyed him blandly. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Bullshit. Mine got burnt to a crisp when your bad cop buddies torched my place.”

“I can’t just hand over department files to a civilian.”

Nick rolled his head back. “Fine. Then copy yours. I know you’ve got a file and a board at home.”

“She was my sister,” he pointed out.

“And you’re practically my brother. I want the file.”

“Fine. I’ll get you a copy.”

Nick nodded. “Appreciate it.”

Weber slipped on a pair of aviators and climbed behind the wheel. “Now do me a favor. Wish your girl luck today so she isn’t too busy worrying about her stupid boyfriend’s bad attitude to get a read on the husband.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick muttered and pulled out his phone.