Page 154 of Power of the Mind

“Do we go to his house,” Tallus asked once we’d made our rounds.

“No. We need him on our side. He won’t be happy we overstepped. Best we don’t pound on his door at this time of night.”

“But he wanted proof.”

“I know. I’ll deliver them tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Tallus eyed the time on the dash. It was after nine.

What else was there to do?

“Do you mind taking me to my car?”

“Sure.”

I drove to headquarters and parked in the lot behind the building. Once again, we were parting ways, and since Doyle had taken command of the case, I didn’t see a time in the future when we would meet up.

We’d had one more evening, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

At a loss for words, verbally crippled as usual, I waited for Tallus to get out and say goodbye.

For the second time, I was the recipient of a meaningful look. One that spoke volumes without Tallus having to say a thing.

He brushed a hand over my thigh, squeezed once, and released. “Take care, Guns. Keep me posted if you hear from Doyle.”

“I will.”

Then he was gone.

Again.

And every cell in my body ached with the void he left behind.

36

Tallus

Three weeks went by. The hazy days of summer ended as fall settled over Toronto. Nights were cooler. A chilling wind blew off the lake. I often opened my windows before bed to let the crisp air move through my stuffy apartment and because I wanted an excuse to see if my stalker was around.

Diem was back to his old tricks, spending endless hours sitting outside my apartment or following me around the city. Although he had yet to bang on my door at midnight looking for a fuck, he’d become my shadow. I didn’t tell Memphis. Diem’s inability to accept his feelings cut like a knife.

That Thursday evening, as I performed my nightly ritual, I spotted his dark Jeep parked in its usual place on the street, angled so he could peer from the tinted windshield into my living room seven stories above.

I couldn’t see him but sensed the brooding man’s turmoil. I felt his suffering.

I was at a loss to know how to handle it. We hadn’t spoken since our race around the city to gather phony echinacea bottles after meeting with Doyle at Casey’s when he’d told us about the kratom.

A call with an update never came. What more could I do? I’d laid my card on the table. I’d told Diem how I felt, but it had gotten me nowhere. At this rate, Diem would forever remain an unrealized attempt to have a normal relationship.

Normal.I chuckled. It was not a term he would use, but to me, it fit. I’d never dreamed of dating or settling down. Random hookups had always satisfied me. Commitment had felt too grown up, and I’d never been ready to cross that line.

Until now.

The fact that Diem had brought out those urges meant something. Leave it to me to want someone I couldn’t have. Diem of all people.

Work around the office was quiet. I’d taken a trip to homicide one afternoon the previous week, frustrated at not hearing from Diem. Doyle confirmed that the eleven people we’d discovered had tested positive for significantly high levels of kratom in their systems, and Brodie Newall was being investigated. His prints had been found on the bottles—including the ones we’d retrieved from the victims. Where the case went from there, Doyle wasn’t saying.

I stared for a long time at Diem’s vehicle, wondering what he was thinking and considering what I would do if he showed up at my door looking to fuck around again. Were we going backward? Was I allowing it? I wasn’t sure I had it in me. Feelings and emotions had gotten in the way, and I couldn’t think of Diem as a hookup any longer. We’d moved past those disconnected terms.

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