Finding Our Reality (The Reality Duet #2)

Chapter 20

CRUTCH

I toss my sunglasses on the dashboard and grab my wallet. The mid-March sun is shining down, quickly evaporating the morning dew. I’ve become one of those people. Those people who go at least one time a week, if not more, to buy an insanely overpriced cup of coffee.

A lasting impression from the Lulu of twelve years ago.

She’s come into the station a few times with a cup, letting me know she still goes to our coffee shop. But for some stupid reason, I’ve never piped up and told her that I still go to our coffee shop too.

I place my order and stand there checking the email on my phone when the heated scorch of her voice races down my spine.

“I don’t think Peyton works here anymore. You’ll have to make googly eyes with someone else. I hear the drive-thru barista is nineteen. I know you like them young.”

Fuck me.

Her smirk is just what I needed to see this morning. Really, it’s what I need to see every morning.

“Pipe up a little louder, won’t you? I don’t think the old lady in the corner heard you.”

She hides her smile behind her coffee cup. “Oh, I beg to differ.” Her eyes flicker to a corner table, near the front door, where two white-haired women are giving me the evil eye. Lulu laughs, choking on her drink. Some spittle flies out of her mouth, and she quickly wipes her face with the back of her hand.

She missed some. I step closer, reaching out with my thumb to wipe the brown drop from her stubborn little chin. The electricity from her body sizzles through my fingertips and into my chest.

“Crutch?” The girl behind the counter holds my cup out to me. Reluctantly, I pull away and grab it.

“You didn’t tell me you still come here.” She plants a hand on her curvy, luscious hip, drawing attention to her bare legs.

Spring weather means bare legs. Which means trouble for me. “Nope.”

“Don’t wanna be known as a coffee snob? Marcum’s brew at the station not cutting it anymore?”

“We all know his coffee tastes like burnt tobacco. I have no idea how he even messes it up. Coffee is pretty self-explanatory.”

She reaches around me and grabs a napkin. “That’s why I stick to water at the station.”

“Speaking of, are you heading that way now? I’ll walk you out.”

“No, I’ve got a few things to finish here first,” she says weakly. Her fingers tangle through her hair, fondling her scar.

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Lulu, are you here by yourself?”

“No.”

“No?” My voice cracks like a teenager going through puberty. Instinctively, I glance back to our table and see the back of a guy’s head. “Who’s that?”

She shrugs. “Just a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Why are you repeating everything I’m saying?”

My jaw works back and forth. Damn, I can’t help myself, I wanna rip this guy’s head off. “Why are you being so elusive? Who the hell is that?”

“I told you. A friend.”

“Well, I consider myself your friend. Let’s have an introduction, shall we?”

Her mouth falls open. I’m already five paces closer to the table when my cell phone rings. Gritting my teeth, I glance at the caller ID—Colson. I can’t ignore it; I have to answer.

Sure enough, we have a call.

I guess I’ll have to host my pissing match some other time.

Although, there better not be another time. I don’t know who this friend is, but I can tell from the back of his head that it’s not Holt, Will, Cullen, Ray, or Marcum.

And I don’t like this stranger sitting at our table.

I spin around, planting my body right in front of Lulu. My chest grazes against hers. She tries not to react. But she does. I see it. I feel it. “We have that interview with Tyler today. Say goodbye to your little friend and get your fine ass to the station.”

Exaggerated sarcasm drips through her voice like the slow coffee drip behind the counter. “Why, Ryland Joseph Crutchfield, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Says the girl who rolls her eyes.”

“I do not roll my eyes.”

“Why don’t we find Peyton and ask her if that’s true or not?”

Lulu leans forward, whispering in my ear. She knows I love it when her hot breath sends a chill down my spine. “Fuck Peyton.”

Clearing her throat, she walks away, joining her friend at our table.

***

“I’ll meet you outside. I just have to get something from my car before we go.”

I nod, grabbing my stuff. “I’ll lock up, get us some waters for the road.” Five minutes later, I’m walking out the station door when I see Lulu trotting across the parking lot. Except she’s not heading to her own SUV, but an idling red pickup truck. I can’t make out who’s behind the wheel, but it’s definitely a guy.

The truck doesn’t look familiar either. It doesn’t belong to any of the guys in her life.

And what strikes me as odd is her behavior, her demeanor. Her stiff shoulders and straight back are gone. Gone is the imaginary hanger in her shirt, pulling her upright like a marionette. She leans through the open driver-side window, completely relaxed, completely at ease. Suddenly, she tosses back her head and laughs. Loudly.

It’s the laugh I can’t wait to hear… on the days I’m lucky enough to hear it.

Who is this guy? And what’s he doing with My Lulu?

Is this the ‘friend’ from the coffeehouse yesterday morning?

Hoisting her work bag and purse higher on her shoulder, she reaches into the truck, taking something from him. Waving, she walks away, and the guy reverses, pulling out of the parking lot. When she sees me staring, she just points to my truck, walking in that direction. I finally find my footing and hit the unlock button on my key fob, allowing her to jump in the truck before me.

I put the waters in the cupholders, toss my stuff in the back seat, and quickly reach for my sunglasses, hiding my eyes from view.

She seems completely oblivious to the turmoil surging through me right now. She flashes her green-flowered notebook in the air. “Sorry about that, I forgot my notebook. I need it for the interview.” She shoves it down in her work bag and twists in her seat, depositing it all on the back floorboard. I try to avoid looking at her, but the contortion of her body makes her blouse fall open, gifting me a quick glance of her black bra.

“Forgot it? Where? A public place, like a restaurant or bar? The library?”

She doesn’t follow my line of thinking. She thinks I’m actually concerned about her stupid notebook. “Oh no, I would never leave it out like that. It has confidential notes about Carrie’s case. I just left it at home. I was looking over it in bed last night, re-reading the information from Tyler’s interview, and I accidentally left it on the nightstand.”

Holy hell. This guy has a key to her house? Was he in her house with her? Last night? In bed with her? “Who dropped it off?”

Now , she gets it. She blinks, pausing before answering. “Oh, nobody, just a friend.”

“A friend? The same friend from the coffeehouse yesterday?”

She sighs. “Ry, don’t put words in my mouth. I said he was a friend, and that’s all you need to know, alright?”

Hell no, that’s not alright.

Huffing out a breath, she crosses her legs and stares out the window. Damn this woman and her skirts. A woman with legs that long should be outlawed from wearing anything that falls above the knee.

We drive for twenty minutes straight without saying a word. But Lulu makes it known that she doesn’t like my attitude. She huffs and puffs and grunts and groans every quarter mile of interstate. “So, help me, Lulu, if you sigh one more time, I’m gonna flip my shit.”

She spins in her seat, reaching across the console to point in my face. “Then stop being an asshole.”

I can’t help it. Hearing Lulu call me an asshole from her pouty little mouth has me cracking up. I try not to laugh. Really, I do. But I can’t help it. I burst out laughing, playfully slapping her finger away. At first, she looks like she’s going to explode, but eventually, a smile turns up the corner of her lips. Refusing to laugh, she looks back out the window, forgetting I can see her hidden chuckle in the reflection of the glass.

Although I’m not done learning about this douchebag, she calls a ‘friend’, I declare a truce for now and break the tension. “It’s still crazy to see how Tyler put his life back together.”

“Yeah, leaving Holly was the best thing he ever did.”

Yesterday was the first time we could meet with him. He’s been working a welding job in Nebraska for the past few months and just came home for two weeks on vacation. He’s then going back to Nebraska for two more months. After that, he’ll be sent to Alaska for six months. Besides being gainfully employed, he’s completely sober. After the raid and Trey and Trash’s arrests, he moved in with an aunt who helped him get clean. He broke up with Holly and began to focus on his work and health.

And you can see it. He looked healthy, happy, and stable. His fiancée is pregnant with their first child. His company provides family housing at all job sites so she and the baby will be moving to Alaska with him. He didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know. He didn’t specifically remember the night from the pictures. He was too wasted.

“How do you think things will go with Dakota today?”

She shrugs. “Not sure. I haven’t seen any of Carrie’s friends in years. I’m just glad that one of them still lives close by.”

We small talk about nothing in particular as we finish the drive to the upscale Birmingham suburb. Following the directions from the GPS, we eventually pull into the driveway of the largest house on the block. This mansion makes Lulu’s house look like a potter’s cottage. “Shit,” I mumble underneath my breath, “looks like Dakota’s done well for herself.”

“From what I saw, it looks like her husband has done well for himself.”

“Surgeon?”

She nods, “Yeah, a very well-known and sought-after neurosurgeon. He’s twenty-two years older than Dakota.”

I put away my sunglasses and reach behind me for my vest. “A second marriage for him?”

Lulu scoffs. “You think?”

Handing her my file, I step out of the truck and get my vest secured on my chest. Surprisingly, she waits for me to open her door. She’s actually responding to an email really quick, but I’d like to pretend she’s waiting on me. I offer my hand, and she stares at me for a split second before sliding her fingertips against my palm. Using her notebook and my file folder to cover the exposed skin of her thighs, she climbs out of the truck. I wanna knock the papers out of her hand, just to see more of her.

“Thank you.” She quickly pulls away from me.

Is that because she doesn’t want to touch me? Or is it because she wants to touch me too much? Because I sure as hell know I wanna touch her way more than that.

The doorbell is quickly answered by a maid who ushers us past a lavishly decorated living room, through some kind of music room with a grand piano, and down a small hallway. “She’s waiting in the reading room.” The maid pauses at a closed doorway. “Would either of you like anything to drink?”

A beer would be incredible right about now.

We both politely decline, eager to start the interview.

The maid pushes open the heavy wooden door and announces our presence before excusing herself. One thing strikes me right off the bat. Dakota has had way more plastic surgery than anyone her age should have. She’s only thirty-three, like me, and she’s well on her way to having a permanently plastic face and permanently tucked stomach.

“Ella!” Dakota rushes forward, wrapping Lulu in a fake hug. Dakota keeps her at arm’s length, before air kissing both of her cheeks. “I can’t believe I’m actually seeing you again. It’s been so long. Too long.”

Lulu is completely stiff and frozen. A weak smile tweaks on her face.

I glance around the elaborate room. Two walls, including the one with the door we just walked through, are covered with floor-to-ceiling bookcases, filled with leather-bound books. The third wall is floor-to-ceiling glass windows and doors that lead outside to the manicured lawn and infinity pool. And the fourth wall has a huge gas fireplace, crackling with the sound of fake, burning wood.

They actually paid to have sound piped through the fireplace.

Ridiculous.

There’s a wooden desk, a round table with six chairs, and set of four plush, cushioned reading chairs. Dakota points a red-painted nail at the puffy chairs. “Shall we get more comfortable?”

Lulu looks down at her notebook and my file folder in her hand. She wants to speak up and say she prefers to sit at the table so she has somewhere to take notes. But she doesn’t say anything. Her jaw twitches, and she takes a step toward the floppy chairs.

I guess she’s right—some old habits do die hard.

“Actually,” I point to the table, “the table would work better for our visit today.” My tone leaves no room for negotiation.

Dakota likes that. She likes the no-nonsense approach. Her cheeks flush and her eyes widen. She probably pays the pool boy to fuck her and bark orders. She swishes her hips, sashaying back and forth, obviously trying to draw my attention to her small waist and rounded ass.

Lulu rolls her eyes, grimacing in her anger. I hide my laugh, clearing my throat.

Before I have a chance to take charge of the conversation and get clearance for recording, Dakota homes in on Lulu. “You look like you’re doing well, Ella. I was shocked to hear that you and Hudson divorced.” She giggles, pushing a hair-sprayed curl behind her ear. “Actually, I was more shocked to hear that the two of you had married. So young, so quick. It must’ve been quite the whirlwind romance.”

Lulu straightens her spine. “Oh, it was a whirlwind, alright.”

“You never mentioned that the two of you were romantically involved. In fact, you gave the impression that you didn’t quite care for his company.”

“Impressions matter to you, don’t they, Dakota?”

Hell yeah. Score one, Lulu.

Not giving Dakota time to absorb the dig, I interrupt, getting permission to record the interview.

“So, what’s this visit all about? You’re reopening Carrie’s case?”

I sit forward in my seat. “Carrie’s case was never closed. It’s been open this whole time. I took over as head investigator from Lieutenant Marcum a couple of years ago. Some new information has recently come to light, so we are interviewing everyone again. Sometimes the fog of memory clears as the years pass.”

“I’ll be happy to help. Carrie was a wonderful girl, one of my dearest friends. Just tell me how I can be of assistance.”

I lick my dry lips. Yeah, we’ll see about that. “Why don’t you give us a little information about yourself, just for reference. Give us the highlights of your life since graduating college.”

She smiles brightly. She must love talking about herself. “Well, obviously, I’m married.” She pretends to be shy about flashing the large diamond on her left hand. About as shy as a stripper spread eagle on the pole. “Edward and I met at a charity function for the hospital six years ago. He had just gotten out of a horrible marriage. She just didn’t understand the caliber of man she was married to. Neither of us were looking for something serious. He’s quite a bit older than me, you know? But we just fell in love.” Her eyelashes flutter in fake desire. “What is it they say? The heart wants what the heart wants.”

She stares at us, waiting on a response. Is she really wanting us to answer that rhetorical question?

Lulu’s voice is cold and sterile. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Ella. That’s so sweet.” She sighs. “Anyway, we married, and we have two beautiful children now. Our son, Elliot, is five, and our daughter, Marisol, is three.”

“Where are your children now?”

“They’re at preschool, a wonderful program at one of the private schools here in Birmingham. They tested in. My brilliant little babies.”

I glance at the clock on the desk. “What time do you have to pick them up?”

“Oh, the nanny does that.” She leans forward, raking her eyes across my body. “So I’m all yours, Sergeant.”

Hell no, you’re not.

Lulu’s voice cuts through the innuendo, slicing it like a sword. “You don’t work, Dakota? What about your degree? Marketing, wasn’t it?”

Dakota’s eyes turn to small little beads. “Ella, running a household like this is work. The kids have so many extracurricular activities—ballet, karate, swim team. And I have to make sure the staff does everything just to Edward’s liking. He works so hard to provide for our family. Things should be exactly the way he wants them. The housekeepers, the gardeners, the handymen. You know how hard it is to find good help nowadays. Now that your parents have passed, you’re responsible for running a large household yourself. I’m sorry about that, by the way. It must be hard to be all alone now.”

She’s not alone, bitch. I’m here.

Dakota has turned into the kind of woman Lulu hates. The kind of woman she spent her whole childhood resenting. Dakota has become Lulu’s mother.

Lulu looks up from her notebook. Her knuckles turn white, holding her ink pen in a death grip. Palpable anger hums from her body, deafening the silence in the room. I can’t speak aloud words to calm her, that would make her appear weak. And My Lulu is anything but weak.

Instead, I lower my hand beneath the table and quietly sneak it across her leg. Her bare skin is warm and smooth. Immediately, my dick stirs in my pants, making me widen my legs into a more comfortable position. I squeeze her knee. My throat clogs with emotion, taking me back to twelve years ago. Turning me into a young kid. A young kid who’s madly in love with the girl—this woman—sitting next to him.

I always do what I shouldn’t do. And touching Lulu? It makes me want things I have no right to want. I want the life I should’ve had. The life we should’ve had.

Lulu’s face softens and she glances over at me. Her long black eyelashes fan against her face, slowly shading the chestnut and caramel swirls of her eyes. Nodding once, letting me know she’s fine, I pull my hand away. Her body shivers when my calloused fingertips leave her thigh.

Our moment didn’t go unnoticed by Dakota. Her brow furrows in confusion and her eyes dart between the two of us. “Is there something I should know about?”

I ignore her question and ask one of my own. “Let’s go back, tell me what all happened when Carrie went missing.”

She tells us all the information that we already know. That Carrie was supposed to show up at the girls’ apartment for a Fourth of July party but never did.

“And do you think her drug activity had anything to do with her disappearance?”

That catches Dakota completely off guard. Her smile falters for one split second. “Excuse me?”

Lulu sits back, folding her arms across her chest. “We know about the drugs, Dakota.”

Dakota clicks her long fingernails against the marble top of the table. “Pardon? I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“We know that Carrie was an addict and that she was selling drugs. To Catie. To Hannah.” Lulu pauses for effect. “To you.”

Dakota’s lips purse into a thin line.

“Catie didn’t tell you?” Lulu presses. “She didn’t tell you that I knew? I confronted her. Threw her stash down the drain.”

Dakota is thinking about lying. She’s thinking about it real hard. I nip that shit in the bud. “There’s no point in lying, Dakota. We know a lot more than you think we do. If we wanted to come after you for the drugs, we would’ve done it way before now.”

Snorting, her face contorts into an ugly snarl. “No, she didn’t tell me you knew about the drugs. Catie was probably worried that me and Hannah would make her stop. We were always the ones worried about getting caught. Not Catie.” She pins Lulu with her stare. “Not Carrie.”

Lulu pulls her shoulders back. “So, you’re telling me if I check your purse right now, there won’t be any pills inside of a breath mint box?”

“It was college, Ella. Normal people experiment in college. Alcohol, drugs, sex. I can’t help it if you were some old married schoolmarm by the time you were eighteen.” She pushes away from the table, making an elaborate show of crossing her legs. “Of course, there’s nothing in my purse. I stopped my recreational drug use when I graduated college.”

I tap my finger against the table, drawing her attention. “So, tell us what you know about the drug business. Did Carrie ever talk about it? Discuss how she obtained the pills? Anything?”

“Not much. It all started with her knee surgery, with the pain pills. We noticed that she kept taking pain medication. One night, at a party, she gave us each an Oxy. High dose. That’s all it was for me and Hannah… party use. And Ritalin for studying. And the occasional sleeping pill when our schedules got off whack. For Carrie and Catie it was more. They used all the time. Basically, every day. But she never told us how she got the pills or who she got them from. She said she couldn’t tell us, that it would put us in danger.”

Lulu slams her pen down. “And did you even consider that this business would put my sister in danger? What about Carrie’s well-being? You were one of her best friends.”

“We paid for our product. Carrie said she was safe as long as she turned her money in and kept her mouth shut.”

I toss my hands in the air. “Safe? She was selling drugs, and you thought she was safe?”

Dakota doesn’t answer. She just raises her eyebrows, waiting for another question.

“She never talked about the supplier?”

“No, and I didn’t ask any questions. I don’t know where she got the pills, how she got the pills, or who she got the pills from.”

“What about her other customers? Do you know anyone who would hurt Carrie to get to her supply?”

She shakes her head. “She only sold to people she knew. People she was sure would keep their mouth shut. She didn’t want Caleb to find out.”

“But he did?” I ask, confirming what we’ve known for twelve years.

“Yes, that’s why he broke up with her.”

“What about me?” Lulu sounds like a small, innocent child. She reaches back, rubbing her scar.

Dakota sighs, shaking her head. “She didn’t want you to know, either. We weren’t allowed to say anything about it to you.”

Lulu’s breath hitches in her chest, and it breaks my damn heart.

I reach for the file folder. “Did you notice anything unusual in the months leading up to her disappearance?”

“No, nothing sticks out. Everything was normal until that Fourth of July weekend. She wasn’t answering our phone calls and texts as quickly as she normally did. And then she stopped altogether. When she didn’t show up for the party, we knew something was wrong.” She looks at Lulu. “That’s when Hannah called your mom.”

Opening the folder, I slide the pictures across the table, nodding for Dakota to pick them up. “Take a look at those pictures. Tell me if anyone looks familiar.”

Straightening the diamond pendant dangling between her massively fake breasts, she scoots closer and picks up the small stack of pictures. I don’t say anything; I let her study the images in silence.

“I don’t know anyone in these pictures besides Carrie. They’re not exactly the kind of friends I hung out with in college.”

“Meaning?”

She tosses her head to the side. “Really, Detective? You’re going to make me say it?”

You bet your ass I’m gonna make you say it, lady.

“Fine.” She tosses her hair behind her shoulder. “Low class, trashy, poor. We didn’t hang out with poor people. And I’m not being discriminatory. It’s just the way things were. Right, Ella?” She raises her eyebrows, waiting on Lulu to agree with her. “You know what I mean, all of your friends were privileged.”

Lulu stares at Dakota like she’s a rotten piece of meat.

My voice growls loudly in the room, startling the smug look from her plastic face. “Not all of them.” I point at the pictures. “Keep looking.”

When she gets to the last image, she gasps. “Oh! Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes, Dakota,” Lulu says, “that is a picture of my passed-out sister being raped.”

Dakota looks from me to Lulu and then back at the picture. “I had no idea. She never said anything. Nothing at all.” She turns the picture over, hiding the offending image.

I stuff them back in the file. “You have no idea who did that to her?”

“No, no idea at all.”

I turn to Lulu. She nods, letting me know that she believes Dakota.

“And what about Hannah or Catie? Do you have any reason to believe they may know anyone in those pictures? Any reason to believe they know about the sexual assault?”

“I don’t talk to them anymore. But, no, I don’t think so.”

Lulu closes her notebook. “You didn’t stay in touch with them?”

“We tried. But it was too hard. I mean, Hannah and I are friends on social media, but that’s about it. She lives in Los Angeles, works for a local news station. Her husband works for a movie studio.”

“And what about Catie?”

She plants a look of empathy on her face. “Catie lost her way. She let the drugs control her life.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I guess she just wasn’t as strong as me and Hannah. Last I heard, she was a single mom, working at a diner, somewhere in Kentucky, where she’s from. It’s so sad, really. Her family owns race horses, you know? She really could’ve been something.”

Dakota stands up, indicating she’s done with the interview. “Well, the children will be home soon. I should make sure the cook has a snack prepared. Is there anything else?”

“No. We have all we need.” I usher Lulu from the mansion, guiding her with a gentle hand on the small of her back. I’m determined to transfer the strength from my body to hers.

When we get to the front door, Dakota leans forward, whispering. “Edward doesn’t know about the mistakes of my youth. I assume you’ll use discretion and avoid tossing my name around when speaking to others about drug use. I was happy to talk with you today, but I’d hate to involve our attorneys in all of this.”

Lulu stiffens. A slow defiance creeps across her face, letting me know she’s had enough of Dakota and her pretentious ways. I quickly turn off the camera on my vest.

“Dakota, I have no idea how my sister counted you as a friend. You are a parasite, sucking the life out of everything around you, a maggot feeding on shit. Screw you.” Lulu spins around, stomping toward the truck. Tossing her head over her shoulder, she leaves Dakota with one last parting sting. “And by the way, my tits are way better than yours, and I didn’t spend thousands of dollars on them. Get your money back.”

And… that’s My Lulu.