Page 7 of More than Need

“I also have vodka,” she continued. “I left that in the car, ’cause it’s illegal to just, y’know, walk around with it.”

All of those things were cause for concern. “It’s alright. We’ve just established we know some cops, so that’s good timing,” Dawson offered.

Sadie froze, and before Dawson could figure out what he’d said wrong, she burst into tears. Dawson shared a wide-eyed look with Eli, who then slunk away, the traitor.

“Sadie, what’s wrong?” he asked, tentatively touching her elbow. She’d cried a lot more in the last month than she ever had in her life before, and all of the reasons why made zero sense to Dawson. He just hugged her through it, and then she bounced back.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” she sobbed, tears tracking down her face. The bag fell from her hand, and two small ice cream tubs rolled out. Dawson watched with morbid fascination as they rolled a little way down the light hill until they came to a stop next to a weird turtle statue. The amount of animal statues at this wedding should alarm everyone.

“Richard?” he asked, confused. “Why do youwantto talk to him? I thought we were burning an effigy of him. I picked up the matches yesterday.” He deserved it, and more. He should consider himself lucky. Leaving her when he found out about her pregnancy had been the most dick move any person could ever make in a relationship. Dawson had been ready to just forego the wood and burn him instead. They could make it look like an accident.

Dawson jogged over and grabbed the ice cream before shoving it back in the bag and picking it all up.

“Not Richard!”

Dawson was lost. “Are we… creating another one? I probably have spare wood.” Who else needed burning? Good thing Eli had left. If anyone had a list, it would be his boss.

“Mybrother,” she said, glaring at him like he should have known.

Her brother? Dawson’s shoulders dropped as realisation sank in. “No. You didn’t.” By the look on her face, she definitely had. “Sade, youpromised.” They’d needed more information before ambushing the poor guy. She couldn’t just waltz into someone’s work with a photo and an accusation that might not even betrue. The confession from her parents had been a bombshell for them all, and some caution wouldn’t go astray.

He should have known she’d go rogue.

“Well, I was in the neighbourhood and…”

“In the neighbourhood?” He highly doubted that. “Blindsiding him was never going to work and—” Her face twisted in grief, and Dawson sighed, tugging her to him and wrapping her up in a hug. “I’m sorry,” he said into her hair. “Are you sure it was him?”

“He has Dad’s nose, and my eyes.”

Those eyes were pretty distinct, but that still didn’t mean anything. “What did he say?”

“Not much,” Sadie said bitterly. She hiccupped and wiped her cheek haphazardly. “Told me to get out and had me escorted out like a criminal.”

“He what?” Dawson bristled. Fucking uncalled for. What the hell?

“Said we had nothing to talk about.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “He was nothing like I thought he would be. Didn’t even give me a chance to talk to him.”

Dawson wrapped her up tighter. This is what he’d been hoping to avoid by taking it slowly and putting out feelers first. Sadie’s parents had only given her a name—thankfully, with at least a currentlast name—and they’d been forced to figure out the rest themselves. Dawson had used some contacts to find more information. Even then, they hadn’t been sure whether the Riley Sinclair they’d found was the right one, or if he was the easiest to find because of his job. Dawson hadn’t wanted it confirmed like this.

Sadie had a lot of energy, and she didn’t always think before she jumped. That didn’t mean anyone had the right to treat her badly, or make her cry.

“C’mon, let me take you home,” he said, tamping down the anger stirring in his gut. He could just imagine how she’d gone in, all big dreams and high hopes. How could anyone match that with unkindness? “We can eat all the stuff you got. Except for the vodka; you can’t have that.”

“It was for you,” she mumbled against his chest. “I wanted to watch you puke. We could do it together. Coordinated vomiting.”

Cool. That sounded… super cool and fun. Great plan. Couldn’t have thought of a better one by himself. “I can take one for the team,” he promised. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take much vodka since he had to drive tomorrow.

He had to make sure Eli didn’t sign off on all his deliveries without checking them first.

Gideon Clark stifled ayawn as he flipped the page of the autopsy preliminary findings. The words blurred together, and he knew he’d have to read it all over again before he could put his own report together.

The yawn won, and tired tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, mouth opening wide. Fucking hell, what time was it? He checked his watch and suddenly felt sixty times more tired. Almost ten in the evening. Too late for coffee. Too early for breakfast. Not really “today” anymore but not quite “tomorrow” either. A lawless in-between where anything could happen.

Riley had holed himself up in his office ever since that woman had come and turned his life upside down, and he still hadn’tcome out to leave for the day. Gideon refused to leave until he did. He could wait his sergeant out. Riley might be stubborn, but Gideon had a six-year-old. He would win this battle every time.

Besides, this autopsy report wouldn’t read itself.

“Fracture,” he murmured to himself, leaning his elbow on his desk and dropping his chin into his hand. His eyes drooped a little. “Ligaments… broken… peanut butter…” Maybe a quick rest of his eyes would be alright?

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