Page 60 of Tortured Tones

She always hesitated before talking. I guessed she wanted to make sure we weren’t crossing any lines. But fuck lines. I wanted to know more about her. She had a kid; so did I. I needed to learn what I could from somebody.

“I don’t get much time off, but when I do I read, run, do yoga, meditate, enjoy the occasional glass of red wine or two.” A glassy sheen passed across her eyes as she followed Charlotte zipping across the bridge again. “And spend time with my son.”

The wave of anguish in her voice hit me low in the guts. The only time she showed any form of vulnerability was when we talked about kids. She was human after all. So many questions popped into my head. “It’s none of my business and you can tell me to fuck off, but you don’t seem to see him much.”

She placed the cup on the table and swiveled it back and forth, back and forth. “No. Only the second Tuesday and the last weekend of each month, with the random change thrown in to meet work obligations. That’s more to accommodate Luther than me. ”

“Why don’t you have equal custody?” I winced. “Um...fuck. Sorry. You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s okay.” She smiled a sad smile, but her hard glare prickled my skin. “Fucking up can cost you everything.”

Been there. Done that. But she didn’t seem like the type of person who’d screw up. “Can I ask what happened?” I grabbed one of Charlotte’s cookies and held it out to Ava.

“Do you want the long or short version?” She took the cookie and had a small bite.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.” I was a good listener—I’d own that.

“Fine.” She shrugged her shoulder, just an inch. “My ex turned into a manipulative, vindictive asshole.”

She took a sip of coffee. Put the cup down. Licked her lips. Folded her arms.

I waited for her to say more. But she said nothing.

I jerked my chin back. “Is that it?” Was that all she was going to tell me? Damn. She was a tough nut to crack.

“I wish.” Her eyes glinted in the sunshine as she let out a puff of air. “But no. When Luther and I divorced, we had equal custody. But Luther always loathed our settlement and the amount he had to pay in child support.” The hard edge in her voice, mixed with a touch of blasé attitude, didn’t mask the underlying base of raw heartache. “He hated that I wasn’t his anymore and became obsessed with revenge and control.”

What the . . . ? An anxious tremor rippled through my gut. “Did . . . did he hurt you?”

“Not physically.” She gave me a wicked, no-chance-in-hell smirk. “He wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me. I think we both know how that would go down.”

Yes, I’d learned that lesson, twice.

“He turned into an unreasonable, spiteful man. Everything worsened when Mom was diagnosed with advanced cancer six months after we divorced. She died shortly after that.” The anguish in her tone stabbed my heart.

I lowered my voice and kept one eye on Charlotte swinging around a pole. “Loss messes you up.” I had firsthand experience of that.

“Yes, but it’s my fault I lost equal custody.” She drew her shoulders back and tucked flyaway hair from her braid behind her ear. “I was on the force back then. The long days on the beat were tough; the bad outweighed the good. After losing Mom, Dad was heartbroken. My sister had a miscarriage. I drank a bit too much some days. Luther and I were always arguing over his insane inability to be flexible with Josh and having to go through our lawyers for every request.” As if taking her time to carefully compile the words, she pursed her lips, then spoke in a tortured tone that tore my heart. “I shouldn’t have let my personal life affect my work, but it did. I fucked up on the job. I didn’t get help when I should’ve.”

“Did you shoot somebody?” Shit, I shouldn’t be flippant about something so serious.

“No. Luckily I’ve never had to do that.” She fidgeted with the cup. “I just went too far when I shouldn’t have. After I’d had this huge fight with Luther, my partner, Craig, and I were called to this house out in Elysian Heights. This asshole had beaten the shit out of his eight-year-old kid and young girlfriend. They were bloodied and bruised from head to toe.” Her eyes glassed over as painful and traumatic memories no doubt flickered through her mind. I had a bucketload of those too. “He wouldn’t calm down, kept kicking them and accusing them of taking his drugs. So we tasered him, restrained and cuffed him. But as we hauled his ass out to the cruiser, he wouldn’t stop bad-mouthing me, saying I was his next whore, that all women deserved to be put in their place and disciplined. He reminded me of Luther. There was nothing but pure evil in this guy’s eyes. I lost it.” She winced. “I punched him hard several times, kneed him in the balls, and made sure he fucking hit his head when we put him in the car. It was all caught on body cam.”

I didn’t miss the strain in her voice or the regret.

I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Hey?”

She flinched but didn’t pull away.

“What’s wrong with that? It sounds like the guy needed more than a few punches.”

“When you’re a cop, you can’t do that. I ignored Craig calling out to me to stand down.” She shook her head and withdrew her hand from underneath mine. “The guy was restrained. I was out of line. It’s against our code of conduct and illegal to hit someone when they can’t defend themselves...at any time really.”

“Fuck that. You’re a total badass. That guy deserved every blow.” I didn’t condone violence, but sometime discipline didn’t go astray. Nor the odd reminder that you’d been a dick, like Flint had done when he’d clobbered me.

“No... he didn’t.” She lowered her chin. The sorrow darkening her eyes speared my chest. “When Luther found out what had happened, he went straight to his lawyers.” The quivering anger and disappointment in her voice sliced through the air. “Rather than support me through my grief and trauma, he used my personal life, my job, and my mental health against me. He filed for majority custody and won.”

Only majority? “Why didn’t he go for full custody?”

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