Cause of Death by Laura Dembowski (sci fi books to read .TXT) 📕

she could have hired someone. It’s not that hard, especially since she also killed her daughter.”

“Now we don’t know that,” he says. “We’re investigating; she’s a person of interest, but not a suspect.”

“Check me for gunshot residue,” I say, holding out my hands. “I haven’t fired a weapon today. You won’t find anything.”

“We can do that, but that doesn’t put you in the clear. You could have worn gloves. You know how this works. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

“So I am officially your only suspect?” I ask. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“Not at this time, but I will need your badge and gun while we investigate.”

“So you’re putting me on desk duty?”

“Actually, we’re suspending you. You’ll be paid until you are either cleared and can come back to work or are charged.”

By the way he’s looking at me, I can tell he thinks I’ll be charged. Maybe he even thinks I should be charged.

I didn’t kill Tracy, but I can’t prove it. The husband or the boyfriend—the fiancé, in my case—is almost always the primary suspect. There’s no way anyone would suspect Margaret of having Tracy killed, but I’ll prove it if it’s the last thing I do.

I get up to leave Sarge’s office—for the last time, most likely. He stops me.

“One more thing,” he says.

I turn to face him without saying anything. My mouth is dry, and I don’t feel like I have anything of value to say.

“When I arrived on scene, some other officers showed me photos they’d found.” He pauses. “Of you and Beth Cambridge. Doing things you shouldn’t have been doing.”

“And Margaret Moore found out,” I say frantically, accidentally spitting at Sarge. “That’s why she had Tracy killed. To torture me and frame me. Probably didn’t even know Tracy was blackmailing me.”

I force myself to stop talking before I further incriminate myself.

Now Sarge’ll be able to get a warrant, search my whole place, the computers, everything. They’ll find every single thing Tracy was holding over my head. There won’t be any saving me. Before long the whole force will be against me; we don’t like bad guys.

I don’t stand a chance.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Sarge asks. “Maybe I could have helped you.”

“I didn’t think I needed help,” I say. Clearly I was wrong. “Can’t you help me now?”

He looks at me with cold eyes. “I’ll do the best I can, but it might be too late. You’ve really gotten yourself into a mess this time.”

Don’t I know it.

I hand over my gun and badge. I sign some papers. I don’t know what they say. It’s not like it matters; I’m forced to sign them, whether I want to or not.

Sarge extends his hand to shake mine, but I don’t feel like shaking hands with the man who just accused me of murder.

“You son-of-a-bitch,” Kate says to me as soon as I approach our desks. I’m not allowed to take much, but I’d like the few personal things I keep on my desk. The photos and memorabilia I’ve collected over the years.

“I didn’t ruin the case,” I say to her, “Beth doesn’t want this to come out, so it’ll all be fine.”

“Everything comes out eventually,” she replies—directed at me more than the case, I’m sure.

“Help me—please, Kate. Prove I’m innocent. I did some bad things, but I didn’t kill Tracy. You know that. You know that, Kate. I didn’t kill her.”

“It looks really bad,” she says.

I would have thought she’d be more on my side. I guess she needs some time to process her partner being accused of murder.

Soon the whole city, uniformed and otherwise, will think I’m guilty. Their minds will be made up the instant this hits the news. This story will be all over the TV, the papers, the Internet. I’m about to become the talk of the town.

Chapter 14

Ryan

I can’t believe how the officers left my house. Now I understand why people are pissed when we leave. They’ve tracked in dirt from the yard; shoe prints are everywhere. You’d think they would treat other people’s houses as they would want theirs to be treated. Apparently not. In the unlikely event that I ever get to work a case again, I’ll be far more careful.

I walk into the kitchen, where they found Tracy’s body. There’s blood everywhere. On the cabinets. The counter. The floor. It’s seeped into spots, and I doubt I’ll be able to get it out. I look at the mess a moment too long. It makes me sick. I throw up right on the floor, not able to bring myself to walk through the blood to get to the sink or the trash can.

People often hire professional companies to take care of messes like this. They make good money, rightfully so, ridding houses of blood, guts, and more. It seems like good punishment for me to clean this up. All the dirt and the blood. I mean, it’s all my fault, isn’t it?

I got overly involved in Lana’s case when I could have just ruled it a suicide. I fucked Beth. I messed with Tracy. This tangled web is all my creation, so now I need to pay. Plus, considering the likelihood that I won’t be getting paid for much longer, I should try to save money. Even if I don’t get charged with murder, I will still lose my job for all of the other mistakes I made. Namely Beth.

It’s fine. I couldn’t hold my head up in that station now anyway. I’m on the other side of the law.

Since I’ve already put myself in this position, I don’t see any reason to cut things off with Beth at this point. Plus, I can’t be alone. In this house. With the ghost of Tracy haunting me. I don’t really believe in actual ghosts, but I don’t need to in order to feel her presence stalking me, the hatred filling the air.

Part of me thinks Margaret did Tracy a favor. She wasn’t exactly the happy-go-lucky type.