Page 76 of Redeeming Melodies

Did I though? Did I ever?

"As of this moment, you're on indefinite administrative leave." Each word fell like a gavel strike. "Badge and gun on the desk."

The change was instant. His face flushed red, that careful mask cracking. "What the fuck? You can't do that without cause."

"Want to tell me where you were the night Jimmy got attacked?" The question hit like a physical blow. Watched his hands clench, his jaw tighten. "Or should we talk about those calls to New York first?"

"This is bullshit." He stood so fast his chair scraped against the floor. "You're really gonna trust some washed-up music manager over one of your own?"

"One of my own wouldn't put a man in the hospital." My voice stayed level even as rage burned under my skin. "One of my own wouldn't betray everything that badge stands for."

"You don't know what you're talking about." But his eyes kept darting to the door, looking for escape routes. "I was home that night. You can check my logs-"

"Already did." Smith's voice came from the doorway, solid and sure. "Along with the security footage from the hospital.Funny coincidence you being there before we even knew about the attack."

Ramirez's mask slipped completely then. Something ugly crossed his face, something that was probably always there beneath the friendly cop act.

"You want to play it this way? Fine." He leaned over my desk, trying for intimidating. "But remember - I know things. About this department, about this town. About you."

The threat hung in the air like smoke. Two years of access to our files, our people, our secrets. But he'd miscalculated if he thought that scared me.

"Badge. Gun. Now." Each word came out cold as ice. "Or we can add resisting an official investigation to whatever charges are coming."

"You're making a mistake." But his hands moved to his belt anyway, unfastening his holster. "People aren't going to like hearing their sheriff's throwing around false accusations."

"People aren't going to like hearing one of their deputies put Jimmy in intensive care." The words tasted like metal in my mouth. "Badge. Now."

He slammed both items on my desk hard enough to rattle my coffee mug. "This isn't over."

"You're right about that." I stood, using every inch of height advantage. "Investigation's just getting started. And Ramirez? Don't leave town. We'll have questions."

The look he gave me could strip paint. But he backed down, that survival instinct kicking in. Smart enough to know when he was cornered, at least.

"You'll regret this." His hand was on the doorknob when he turned back. "All of it. The investigation, the accusations, everything."

"Only thing I regret is not seeing through you sooner." The truth came easy now. "Now get the fuck out of my station."

He went, but not before throwing one last poisonous look over his shoulder. The door closed behind him with a finality that echoed through my bones.

"That went well." Smith's dry comment broke the tension. "Want me to have Davis escort him out?"

"Yeah." My legs felt shaky as I sank back into my chair. "And put units on him. Discreet ones. He's not done causing trouble."

The badge and gun sat on my desk like evidence of betrayal. Two years I'd trusted him with these. Two years he'd used them to hurt instead of protect.

"Jake?" Smith's voice went softer. "You did the right thing."

CROSSING LINES

My footsteps echoed too loud on these new floors. Two weeks since I'd been back, since Zayn had worked his magic turning this old place into something that could be home. Should be home. Would be home, once Tommy's custody hearing finally happened. But right then it was just me and too much space and memories of pancake mornings I was trying not to think about.

The coffee maker kicked on automatically - fancy thing Zayn had insisted I needed. "Every home needs rhythms," he'd said, like he knew I was drowning in this quiet. But the smell just reminded me of him.

I had been avoiding the sheriff since I got back. Not hard in theory - town was big enough if you were trying not to be found. But in practice? Every cruiser that passed made my heart kick.

My phone lit up - Tommy's morning FaceTime right on schedule. Kid had gotten religious about these calls, like he was afraid I'd disappear if he skipped one. The thought cut deep.

"Dad!" His face filled the screen, but something was off. His eyes looked tired. "You're in the new house?"

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