Page 1 of T-Bone
Chapter One
Faith
It’s always the ones you least expect.
It was a phrase I said at least once a day as a private investigator, whether I was following a cheating spouse, which to be honest was a big part of what kept the lights on, or like today, when I was surveilling a shady business partner. I’d been following Noah Carpenter for more than a week, tracking every stop he made and every dollar he spent and every woman whose bed he shared. His partners wanted to know everything, which was why they hired a former police detective to gather all the information they needed to get rid of him.
It wasn’t what I thought I’d be doing when I turned thirty, following around crooks, creeps, and cheaters for cash, not when I’d become the youngest detective—female or otherwise—in Las Vegas Police Department’s history. I thought I’d be making busts and getting justice in the robbery-homicide division for a couple of decades before I became sergeant and then captain and maybe one day, Chief of Police.
That wasbefore. It was another lifetime ago, back before the rug had been snatched from underneath me. Before my sister and niece had been killed, at leastallegedlykilled according to my bosses, but I knew better. There’d never been any traces of Chloe or Gemma, though there was enough of Chloe’s blood to safely say she was no longer breathing, and two years ago she’d been officially declared dead. But Gemma? Iknewthere was something up with the crime scene and thelack of evidence, but I’d been shut down, told that Red Rock was outside of metro jurisdiction and hadn’t asked for help. Effectively I was told to stand down. As if I could stand down on my own blood’s murder. And thatorderhad shaken my confidence in my PD and my fellow officers. A murder-suicide, the Red Rock called it, which wasn’t too unbelievable since Chloe’s husband, Marcus, was a violent and abusive biker. Still, none of it sat right. Marcus was the kind of guy who’d go suicide by cop before he’d ever pull the trigger on himself. Yet my captain and my chief, and even my partner had all gone along with it.
It all stank to high hell, and I was the only one who seemed to think so, so I did what I had to do. I left the department and found a way to look into my sister’s death, and the whereabouts of my niece on my own. It hadn’t taken nearly as long as I expected to get my license, not with my law enforcement experience. So I left town and moved fifty miles away, and for the past two and a half years I’ve been working in the private sector, making more money than I ever made as a detective, while I investigated what happened to Chloe and Gemma in my free time.
So far, I hadn’t uncovered any new leads, but I knew I would. My second year as a detective I’d helped crack a twenty-year-old cold case thanks to a napkin left in the bottom of an evidence box, so I knew the power of the long game. It was running low, but I wasn’t out of hope.
Yet.
I’d just pulled into the parking lot of a place called T&A when my phone buzzed on top of the coins inside the cup holder in the center console. My five-year-old sedan wasn’t pretty, but it was clean and reliable, and that was all I needed. I picked up the phone, making sure I saw Carpenter go inside the stripclub before I turned my gaze to the screen and the caller ID. Jackson Morgan was the Red Rock detective who handled Chloe and Gemma’s case, and the only other person I believed was truly sorry he hadn’t been able to find the truth. I inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering, “Jackson, hey.”
There was a long, pregnant pause before his familiar deep voice sounded, “Detective Welsh.”
“Faith, please.” It didn’t hurt anymore, not as much as it had a year ago, but that sting of lost potential would always burn a little. “What’s up?”
“I caught a body. Female, late twenties, definite homicide.” He was quiet for a long minute, and I knew there was more, so I let the silence settle between us until he was ready to speak. “There was a hair near the body, and we ran a DNA panel on it.”
A match popped which meant it was someone in the system for one reason or another. “Chloe?”
“No,” Jackson sighed. “It’s Gemma’s DNA.”
In that moment my entire world stopped. I’d known that three-year-old Gemma hadn’t died that fateful night three years ago. Marcus was a piece of shit, without a doubt, and a psychopath to boot, but he’d loved the tiny female version of himself. None of it made sense and it still didn’t. “Gemma?” My voice came out quiet and shaky.
“Yeah Faith. You were right.” There wasn’t a hint of annoyance in his voice, just a bland fact.
“She’s not dead.” There was no way her hair would’ve been found near a fresh body three years later. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“Not yet.” His voice pitched lower, and the background noise faded as if he’d walked away from it. “The official story is going to be that her jealous ex took her out but there’s no proof of it. His alibi is strong.”
Fuck. There had always been something off about how quickly the department was willing to write a story and jam the evidence to fit the theory with or without an arrest. “I don’t… understand.”
“Yeah, me neither. But I knew you’d want to know.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me, my gaze fixed on the T&A entrance without seeing a damn thing. “Thank you, Jackson.”
“It’s the least I could do,” he practically growled. “I never thought you were wrong, but my hands were tied. Then and now.”
“I know,” I replied because I’d been there. He hadn’t liked it any more than I did, but we had a power structure, and we all adhered to it. “I appreciate it. Truly.”
“Good luck, because the new Chief’s stance is that this doesn’t change anything and they aren’t reopening Chloe’s case.” He ended the call after that warning and I sat in that parking lot feeling a renewed sense of hope settle deep in my belly.
I knew that it was time. Three years had passed, and I was heading back to the place that had taken everyone I cared about away from me, and then the only thing I had left. My job.
I was going back to Red Rock.
I was going to get answers.
***
I packed a couple of bags and hopped on the interstate. Red Rock was a small desert town twenty miles outside of Las Vegas. Just far enough away that the city lights were barely a twinkle. After three years of distance, I saw the place with fresh eyes. The buildings were rundown, and the ones that had been vacant for more than a year made the place look like one of those old, faded factory towns from the Nineties.
