Page 4 of Addison

Scrubbing my hand down my face, I shake off the fatigue and lean forward once again to go through the same page of information I've been looking at. Her father was Adam Murphy; based on the file, he was in and out of the holding tanks for public intoxication. There are a few assault charges in his jacket, but nothing big time. I also found a few CPS cases about his daughter, Addison. Apparently, she'd gone to school a few times with fresh bruises, but he'd always manage to explain them away. Nothing more was ever done for her.

She must have run away; something more must have happened to get her on the streets working. My brain is on overdrive as I try to put the pieces of the puzzle together; the only problem is I don't have them all.

"Hardy!"

I jerk in my seat and my head pops up just in time to see a well-crafted paper ball come hurling in my direction. I bat it away before it makes contact. My eyes settle on Riggs, who is sitting across the space next to his new partner, both of them laughing at me.

"What the hell are you focusing on so hard? We're detectives now; we don't need to work so hard," Riggs jokes, and I scoff at his indifference. That's his life; he coasts by here, and for some reason, no one ever calls him out on his bullshit. I wouldn't be surprised if he had shit on everyone that works here just to make sure he never got in trouble himself.

"Don't worry about what I'm doing. Focus on yourself. Don't you have a case or something you need to be working?" I ask, dragging my gaze back down to the computer screen. I can hear him getting out of his seat and quickly close out of the documents I have open on my screen. Unfortunately, federal funds don't cover much in terms of new electronic equipment. There's still one photo of Addison open when Riggs makes his way to my desk.

"Ah, back on this girl again? I'm sure we can get her charged on something so you can spend some extra time with her," Riggs jokes and slaps my back. He likes to think we're still friends, but my skin sizzles just from that one touch. I don't want anything to do with the man, but I have no choice with who works in the same building as me.

"Don't fuck with her." My eyes dart up to him. A threat if I ever issued one. His eyes go wide, and he puts his hands up in a mock surrender. "Easy, big boy. I'm not going to mess with your little pet. I just know you've been stuck on this girl for a while. All I wanted is to help you out a bit. Grease the wheels if you may."

Finally, the window closes out and locks down my computer before I get out of my seat, standing nearly toe-to-toe with Riggs. "I don't need the fucking wheels greased. You leave that girl alone. She hasn't done anything." I snarl at the man, but the grin doesn't leave his face. He and I have gotten into it in the past, but he knows he's got me over a barrel. I'm not going to do anything that would make him blow the whistle on my past transgressions.

"Just leave me the hell alone, Riggs." I mutter before I step by him and toward the exit.

"I don't know what your obsession with that girl is, Hardy. She's not that hot if you ask me."

I let the words roll off my back. It's a lie. Addison is beautiful. But I'm grateful he doesn't find her attractive. I'd rather keep her as far off his radar as possible for as long as I can.

I push the door open, but the tension in my chest doesn't dissipate. I need to cool out, need to let go of some of this anger floating around inside of me, and there's only one thing that seems to do that nowadays.

I have to see Addison.

Three

Finding Addison is easy; staying out of sight is much harder. On several occasions, I've come up to the Eve's Fury Clubhouse just to sit around and scope the place out. Every time I've tried to do that, I've almost been caught by either Mojag or someone named Press. It's like, between the two of them, they know every branch of this forest area.

The last thing I want is for any of them to start asking questions, especially when I'm not sure how I'd answer them yet.

Yeah, I'm a police officer. No, I'm not on duty. Oh, and by the way, I think Addison's son is my kid. Sure that'll go over well.

I groan and park my motorcycle as far away from the property as possible. I'll have to walk the rest of the way from here. There's one spot with good tree coverage that I've noticed neither Press nor Mojag come around very often. I'm sure it's because there's a wasp's nest nearby. I'm not afraid to be stung once or twice if it means I can get a look at Addison.

Most nights, she and the child are out on the porch just playing around. Other nights, she's there by herself. I can't tell if she's happy or sad, but it looks like she's safe.

Of course, I'm only looking in from the outside; she could be holed up in there against her will for all I know. A surge of anger bubbles up inside of me, but I push it down. I don't know her situation, at least not yet. It's why I need to do more research.

I'm here a little earlier than usual; the sun has barely set by the time I make it to my spot. I hear laughter and people talking inside before the sound of loud music comes blaring out of the open window. God, I hope she's okay in there. I've never really been a big fan of motorcycle clubs, but they're good for certain things.

A breeze floats right under my nose, and I catch the very subtle scent of brown sugar and chocolate.

Someone must be baking.

I wonder if it's Addison. She seems like the type that would make a batch of cookies just for the hell of it. Someone who belongs in a home with someone taking care of her. Someone who needs to be guided and spoiled. I could do all those things for her and more.

I groan again, but this time follow it up with the hard thud of my head against the closest tree. "You'll have to get off your ass and go talk to her first," I mutter to myself. Rubbing at the throb on my forehead, I close my eyes for a second, only to pop them back open again when I hear the front door to the house open.

My breath catches when I see Addison walking out with the little boy cocked on her hip. She's not dressed to stay home either. It looks like she's going out.

Instantly, I perk up at the opportunity. So far, she spends most of her days and nights at the clubhouse. I've never had a chance to see her out in the open, with nothing blocking me. I could follow her. I could be close to her.

The excitement is almost too much to bear. I watch from my hiding spot, nerves and anticipation racing through me, as I watch her get the boy over to a small sedan and strap him into a car seat before she gets herself over to the front driver's door. She's going alone. It's perfect.

I'm moving too fast. I turn in place, trying to find the best way out of the small area without causing too much noise, but the ground is muddy. Instead of taking a step forward, I slip and land directly in the mess below me. "Shit!" Without even checking to see if I'm injured, I get back on my feet and run as fast as I can toward my motorcycle. There's only one way for her to go, and if I want to get there without her seeing me, I have to be at my bike before she drives down the hill.

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