Page 9 of Rain Washed

“Good idea.” She sobered. “Tell Tyrell I’m thinking of him. That Linc has all our prayers and wishes for a full recovery.”

* * *

Nico found the waiting room just down the hall from the nurses’ station. Tyrell and Lacey both sat in plastic chairs, not speaking, staring at the floor. Lacey jumped up when she heard him come in. She let Nico enfold her in his arms, all her previous irritation dissolved, her face awash with worry.

“Linc just came out of surgery,” she said, lifting her head to stare at him, then bit her bottom lip. “He had an intracranial hematoma, and they had to drain it. They’ve put him into an induced coma.” Her face was pale, and she felt small and vulnerable in his arms. Nico silently thanked the powers that be that Lacey wasn’t also lying in a hospital bed. It could just as easily have been her the perp had chosen to hit with a rock. He didn’t think he could handle that.

Tyrell lowered his head into his hands with a groan. “My sister is going to kill me,” he muttered, his brown skin appearing to have gone shades paler, his knuckles going almost white as he clenched his hands into fists beneath his cheekbones.

Lacey left Nico’s embrace and went over to lay a hand on Tyrell’s shoulder. “This is not your fault,” she said soothingly. “Linc is a police officer. We all know the risks. This could’ve happened to him no matter whether he was working in Michigan or here.”

“She’s still gonna kill me. He got hurt on my watch.” Tyrell never lifted his head out of his hands, his voice tight with anguish.

“If anything, I’m the one to blame.” Lacey sat down carefully next to Tyrell. “I should’ve stayed with my partner, not gone off ahead of him.” Lacey’s mouth tightened in a grimace of guilt.

“All right, enough of the blame game,” Nico interceded. He took a seat in the chair on the other side of Tyrell, also laying his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I know this is hard for you to bear right now,” he said quietly. “But you’ve been a cop long enough to know that this job is never predictable. And playing the what-if game never helped to stop a perp committing a crime or bring that same perp to justice. I need you at your best, so we catch whoever did this.” They were harsh words, but Tyrell needed to hear them. The last thing Linc needed was his uncle to sink into a cesspool of blame and depression.

“You’re right.” Tyrell lifted his head and sat back in his chair. “I know you’re right.” He turned to look at Nico. Not only was Tyrell a good cop, but they’d become steadfast friends over the past two years. “I need to stay strong for Linc. And the best way to do that is to catch the bastard who did this. Have you got any leads? Do we even know if the person who hit Linc is related to the murders?”

Nico shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid we don't have much to go on. There is one thing, however.” Lacey sat up taller in her chair and Tyrell turned his sharp gaze on Nico, eyes so dark they were almost black. “You said that Linc had stopped to look at something on the trail while you kept going.” Nico looked pointedly at Lacey.

“Yes, but I never saw what it was that caught his eye,” she replied.

“Well, when the paramedics lifted Linc off the ground, I found something directly beneath where he’d been lying. Perhaps the perp hit him in an attempt to stop him picking it up, but when Linc fell, he landed directly on top of it.”

“What was it?” Tyrell leaned forward on his chair.

“It was a little charm, like one of those you find on a bracelet. It was heart-shaped and on the back were the wordspractice makes perfect.” Tyrell and Lacey stared at him in silence, probably not what they’d been expecting to hear.

“What does that mean?” Tyrell finally asked. Nico shrugged. It didn’t mean a lot to him. Yet. But it was somewhere to start. A clue they didn’t have before.

“A lot of people use that phrase,” Lacey said thoughtfully. “Artists. Musicians. Footballers. Athletes. Students. Anybody who wants to become good at something. I guess it can be applied to most careers or even hobbies at some time or another. Hell, we even use it in police training. Especially on the shooting range.” She was right. The words could be linked to just about anything or anyone. But Nico wouldn’t let himself be discouraged.

“Are you saying that the murderer may have dropped something out there and come back to retrieve it because it might link them to the crime scene? But they were too late, and Linc had already found it?” Tyrell questioned.

“It’s just a theory at the moment, but yes, that could be a possibility.”

“But a charm from a bracelet would probably belong to a woman, wouldn’t you say?” Tyrell was thinking out loud, but at least he was concentrating on the case and not wallowing in self-pity any more. “So why did the killer want it back? Did it belong to one of the victims? Or did it belong to the killer? Was it a keepsake of some sort? And if so, what did it mean to the killer?”

“All very good questions,” Nico replied. But none of them had any answers.

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WAS AFTER midnight when Nico finally convinced Lacey to go home with him. They’d sat in the hospital waiting room for hours, Nico never leaving her side, until a harried-looking doctor finally came along and said that Linc was stable, but still in an induced coma in intensive care and he could let one person in for five minutes to see him, preferably next of kin. Tyrell’s face had hardened at the news, but of course he had to be the one who went in to see Linc.

Lacey spent another twenty minutes fretting, pacing the small room to and fro, much like Nico did when he was trying to work out a tricky twist in his latest investigation. Tyrell returned at last, his mouth still set in grim lines, but with slightly better news. Like the doctor said, Linc was stable, breathing on his own, and the blood clot had been removed. It was just a wait and see game now, but the doctor was optimistic that Linc would make a full recovery.

“Come home, Lace,” Nico had implored. “There’s nothing else we can do for him tonight.” It was true, but Lacey was still resistant to leaving. It wasn’t until Tyrell said that he was going home to catch some shut-eye before he came back early tomorrow that Lacey finally gave in.

The drive home had been unusually quiet, as she was lost in her own world of recriminations. But as always, Smudge’s ecstatic greeting when they let him off his lead was enough to bring the smile back to her face. She got down on her knees and hugged him to her chest, enjoying the soft fur on her skin and the wriggling energy in his body. Then she stood up and breathed in a deep lungful of cool air, with just the hint of salt, reminding herself how lucky she was to live in this gorgeous cottage by the sea with Nico, and the band of tension around her heart eased slightly.

She followed Nico in through the back door and copied his actions by placing her duty belt on a hook in the mudroom and her weapon in the small kitchen safe before locking the door. Nico bustled around, feeding Smudge and turning on the kettle. But she just stood in the middle of the kitchen in a daze, bone weary and unsure what to do next. She should probably have a shower, or at the very least, change out of her uniform, but she couldn’t muster the will to walk down the hallway.

Nico answered that question for her, by enfolding her in his arms. She nestled her head against his chest and drew in his strength. They stood this way for many moments, until he murmured into her hair, “Come to bed.”

She let him lead her to their bedroom—their bedroom; it still gave her butterflies to think she shared a bed with Nico, shared his home, and his life—where he sat her on the edge of the bed and leant down to unlace her police-issue, sturdy, black boots.

Once they were off, he turned his attention to the buttons on her blouse, undoing them one by one, letting his fingers graze her collarbone as he went. He was so tender, his hands gentle against her skin. He pulled her up to her feet and her trousers were unfastened and discarded on the chair in the corner, leaving her standing in her underwear. White cotton underwear, highly serviceable and extremely comfortable. Her underwear of choice. Sometimes, she thought she should go out and buy herself a couple of lacy pairs, but Nico always said he liked the simplicity of it, the way the band at the top of her panties sat so snugly over the curve of her hip. He liked to trace that curve with his tongue. At the thought of his tongue on her skin, a slow burn began deep down in her belly. He took her hand and led her to the side of the bed, where he lifted the blanket and waited until she slid under, then tucked her in, stroking her hair as she laid her head on the pillow. She was acquiescent, like a puppet, or a child, giving into his control, letting him take care of her.

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