Page 40 of Copper

He puts his dishes away, and I mentally run through my day. I think of all the shit things I need to do this morning while pretending the man I love doesn’t put himself in harm’s way every single day.

As if reading my mind, Aaron closes the dishwasher and pulls me to him. “Are you working today?”

I nod. “Not until one. Apparently, that’s around the time this pretty awesome guy I know goes into a dickhead’s house. It won’t be easy working a pole while that’s happening.”

“Take the day off,” Aaron says. “It’s been quiet, and we’re going to get Murphy this afternoon, but I still don’t like you at the club while I’m at work and can’t be there to make sure none of his buddies pay you a visit.”

“Peter’s there. We have bouncers. I’ll be fine. You should get going,” I say, looking at the clock on the microwave. “I also have to get ready and head out.”

“Why are you leaving so early?” he asks. “You aren’t going to your apartment, are you? Don’t do it without me with you.”

I laugh and run my finger down his nose before kissing him on the cheek. “No apartment check. I’m still a functional adult and have life errands to run. I’ve been here for a few days. I have to go to the post office if I’m going to be here more often so they can hold my mail. I have to pick up some hold books at the library and deposit some cash tips into my bank account.”

“Stuff to do?”

I smile a wry grin and pat his chest. “Yep. Stuff to do, baby,” I say, watching with a smile as he picks up a messenger bag and grabs a cheese stick out of the fridge before giving me a quick peck on the lips.

Chapter 20

Aaron

Waitingaroundforthejudge is like waiting in the groom’s room at my wedding. Something big is going to happen, probably something career-changing, and I have to sit or stand in one place until someone tells me it’s time for the big thing to happen. Butterflies move through my stomach, and my eyes search for a bathroom just in case I need it.

I crack my knuckles and roll my neck as Judge Hossit’s assistant, an attractive woman around my age, smiles at me over her laptop screen. Since I’ve been here, she’s unbuttoned her shirt two buttons. If I wasn’t hopelessly in love with Lucy, I’d probably flirt a little. As it is, I can’t bear the thought of being with anyone but Lucy.

I spent the morning doing nothing but paperwork and even practiced my spiel for the judge in front of the men’s room mirror, complete with facial expressions that will hopefully show my confidence that Murphy Beckett is behind these murders in addition to everything else he’s done.

Eventually, the door opens and Judge Hossit waves me into his office. “Sheriff Dwyer, it’s nice to see you. It’s been too long.”

I shake the man’s outstretched hand and walk into the poshly decorated room that reminds me of Jalen Quarry’s law office. Mahogany. Freshly vacuumed carpet. The hint of bourbon in the air he probably shares with fellow judges or the city prosecutors.

I take a seat in the guest chair across from his. “I haven’t been here for months because this county usually isn’t so exciting.”

“You sent me the paperwork already,” he says, looking at something on his computer. “You’ve wanted this guy a long time. I remember you speaking with me about him. Murphy Beckett?” He takes his glasses off, and I know from his expression that I have my work cut out for me. “I believe I sat with him at a banquet a few months ago.”

I nod and smile. “Murphy Beckett likes to hobnob with the elite in this town. Let’s be clear that he knows which way his bread is buttered. Let me guess. He was charming, complimented your wife, and made a sizable donation to your best friend, Mayor Thomas, for the next election, probably making sure to speak a little louder than necessary as he promised the money.”

Judge Hossit reddens, and I know I have him. “Walk me through the evidence.”

“We have three murders with connections to Murphy. In the case of George Cannon, we have a bank statement with Cannon paying Murphy for something through an offshore account. I’ve sent you the video of Murphy and Justin Hammons out on the town at a strip club, and Todd Daniels was a member of the motorcycle club. Three murders. Three connections to Beckett.”

Judge Hossit clasps his hands in front of his chest. “Can I expect more charges if you go in based on the murder information?”

I hold the man’s eye contact. I can’t show any weakness here, but I have to be careful. Murphy’s padded pockets in this town well. “I’ve also talked to the feds about possible trafficking. They’ve been building a case for years but have never been able to get him because their investigation also runs into…roadblocks. You wouldn’t happen to know about that, would you?”

Mentioning the feds is my trump card. Leaders in this town may be able to push things under the rug, but the feds aren’t as impressed at local campaign contributions and charitable giving to turtle nonprofits.

Judge Hossit practically squirms, and I take a brief moment to find his daughter’s picture behind the desk. She’s about twenty-five, blonde, and stands in front of the Grand Canyon in the photo. “Beautiful daughter,” I say, nodding to the photo. “I have two myself.”

Judge Hossit looks at the picture and frowns, probably wondering why I interrupted our conversation to talk about his daughter.

I lean forward. “We’re both fathers of females. You and I both know what happens in those trafficking rings. Are you willing to stand by the fact that Murphy isn’t involved in not only murder but is innocent of running drugs and girls in this town?” Lucy comes to mind, and I remember how she helped me at the mention of young girls. “Girls, Lawrence,” I whisper, using his first name. “Girls like our daughters.”

He leans back in his seat and looks at whatever’s on his computer again. The silence stretches over a whole minute, but I sit resolute, waiting. “It’ll need to be a lock. I don’t want to bring him in and have a shit circus when the only thing you can officially pin on him is an overdue library book.”

I roll the dice. “I’ll find something. If it’s not a connection to the murders, it’ll be drugs or trafficking. Hell, if I have to do what they did to Capone and get the son of a bitch for tax evasion by finding an old ledger, I’ll do it. Something in that house will lead me to something dirty. I just need the damn warrant.”

I can’t jiggle my leg like I want or it’ll signal that I’m nervous. Instead, I wiggle my toes inside my shoes. I set my jaw and stare at the judge as he bites his lip and thinks. My armpits sweat, and my heart pounds. This warrant could literally be something that keeps Lucy safe.

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