Finding Our Reality (The Reality Duet #2)

Chapter 47

CRUTCH

I’m miserable.

I just got engaged/married to the love of my life this morning, and she’s not even around. I’m in her childhood home, surrounded by Holt’s dirty laundry and babysitting her crazy-ass, former friend.

Kristie leans in the doorway to Holt’s room.

I sit down on the couch and rub my eyes. “Kristie, don’t even think about going in there. You promised not to touch any of Holt’s things.”

“This used to be Carrie’s room, you know?”

Of course, I know that. I don’t even respond to her.

“Carrie’s disappearance was good in some ways, wasn’t it?”

What the hell? “What are you talking about?”

She wobbles back over and tries to sit next to me on the couch. I clear my throat and point to the loveseat instead. Scowling and hiccupping at the same time, she flops over on the loveseat. Her blood-stained dress rides up, revealing purple panties. I shudder in disgust. She doesn’t even notice when I toss a blanket over her legs.

“What I mean is, you and Ella wouldn’t have met if it weren’t for Carrie’s disappearance. And y’all meeting was a good thing. I mean, look at you, you’re married now.” She starts scratching at invisible bugs on her face.

“Lulu and I were meant to be together. We would’ve met one way or another. Somewhere, sometime. She was meant to be mine.”

“But you got together because Ella went to that gas station looking for Carrie.” Kristie’s head lobs back. “So that’s good. Something good came from it. It makes it better. It makes it a little better.” She makes a weird snorting noise, and I can’t tell if she’s about to laugh or sob. “Remember, y’all told me that you met in a coffee shop. That story was so lame. I knew she’d been to the gas station.”

The tone in her voice sends chills down my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stand. My brain starts churning.

Being a good detective means listening to your intuition. Intuition can lead you down the unseen road. It can lead you to the hidden pot of gold—the evidence. People always say , ‘follow the evidence’ . Well, guess what? Intuition is the compass that puts you there.

“Kristie, what are you talking about? Do you know something about Carrie’s disappearance?”

She moans.

“Kristie!”

Her head bobbles forward and she stares at me. “What?”

“I asked if you know something about Carrie’s case. Do you know what happened to Carrie?”

She covers her face with her hands and makes an unusual sobbing noise. I can’t tell if she’s really crying or just fake crying. With Kristie, either is a real possibility. Eventually, her hands drop. Her smeared makeup has smeared even more, giving her large raccoon eyes. Clear snot shines on her upper lip. Looking down at the floor, she tries to stand up. “I’m going to bed.”

Hell no, she’s not. I grab her arm. Probably a little too hard. “So, help me, Kristie, if you don’t tell me what you’re talking about, I’m gonna flip my shit and haul you into the drunk tank right this second.”

I let her pull from my grasp. Taking a large gulp of air, she swallows. The sound is eerily loud, bouncing off the corners of the room. “I thought giving her the pictures would help. She needed to know what happened to her. I thought it would scare her, scare her into getting help. I thought she would get clean and get back together with Caleb. I was trying to be a good friend.”

My heart races. “It was you? You gave Carrie the pictures? The pictures of her sexual assault?”

She nods. “I printed the pictures and gave her the memory card too.”

Theory after theory swirl in my brain, churning like a hurricane in the sea, a typhoon of fucking epic proportions. “Why didn’t you speak up? I know Lulu told you we found the pictures. She told you we were interviewing everyone about them.”

Her lip trembles. “I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” I growl in frustration, rubbing my jaw. “Not of what. Of who , right?” I continue thinking aloud. “If you gave Carrie the pictures, that means you were there that night. You were hooked on pills all the way back then? You hung out with the same people as Carrie? Not only did you know Trey, and most likely my brother, you knew the supplier. He was the person who assaulted, Carrie, right?”

I question my own memory. Has it been trapped in my brain this whole time? Did I see Kristie at my brother’s parties? Did I know her before I actually met her? I wade through my memories, trying not to drown in the sewage of my past.

I can’t produce one single memory of Kristie.

Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better.

When she doesn’t answer, I press on, raising my voice. “Who was the supplier, Kristie?”

She sniffles, shaking her head. Her eyes are lazy and droopy again. I pray she doesn’t pass out. “I didn’t know she was pregnant, not until you and Ella started investigating everything again. I promise. He told me to never ask any questions, so I didn’t. But it would’ve been different if I had known she was pregnant. I swear, it would’ve been different.”

A sense of doom travels through my body, pinning me to the couch. I’m afraid. Fucking terrified. I’m afraid to breathe. I’m afraid to even blink. I feel like one wrong move could cause my whole world to come crashing down around me. “Who was the fucking supplier?!”

Her whisper rips terror through my heart. “My father.”

***

I know that I’ve never really deserved this happiness. Lulu coming back into my life? It’s more than I deserve. I left her. I forced her into the arms of another man. I abandoned Reality.

I built a life for her. A house for her. I always said that I would reach back out to her, at some point. But is that the truth? If she hadn’t walked into the station that day, would I have searched for her? Or would I have just lived my miserable life, screwing faceless woman after faceless woman, trying to claim some portion of intimacy, all the while feeding my soul on the memories of my love for her?

I know I don’t deserve this happiness, but the thought of having it ripped away from me now? It crushes me to dust.

I can’t live without My Lulu .

I refuse to.

I pull out my phone for the hundredth time, trying her cell number again. Just as with the other hundred times, it goes unanswered. I called the venue and they said that everyone had left. So that means she’s with him.

Phillip. The supplier. The rapist.

The man who murdered Carrie.

At least that’s what I assume. I didn’t stick around to find out. I ran from the house the second Kristie muttered the word ‘father’. I’ve already called a patrol unit to Lulu’s house to take Kristie into custody, and I’ve called Marcum for backup. He’s on his way and was calling Leary, Colson, and Wilson for additional support.

He told me to wait. He told me to be rational.

When it comes to My Lulu, I’m anything but rational.

Kristie’s vehicle is parked in the back of the driveway when I pull up. Fortunately, Lulu and I took my truck tonight instead of her SUV, and I always have an off-duty weapon in my vehicle. It’s secured in a lock box, tucked away in a hidden console behind my back seat. It’s also where I store my extra vest when I’m not on duty. I try to keep a weapon on my person when I’m off-duty, but who the hell thought I would need a weapon at a gala for doctors. Grabbing my vest from the back of the truck, I quickly slide it over my head and activate the camera. I’m going in by myself, so I have to do this right.

Well, somewhat right. Going in alone breaks all normal protocol.

Drawing my weapon, I look through the driver-side window of Kristie’s car. I see Lulu’s handbag and phone on the console. Nothing seems out of the ordinary in the way of a struggle. I don’t know why she would’ve gone into his house, though. Lulu can’t stand Phillip. I can’t imagine her even going inside to use his restroom. She would’ve rather peed in the street.

The garage is open and Phillip’s collection of expensive sports cars glisten underneath the fluorescent lights. Nothing seems to be amiss, so I quickly head for the door leading into his house. Carefully twisting the knob, I hold my breath, praying the door is unlocked and that it doesn’t squeak.

The door opens into a small hallway. I stand and listen, trying to gauge what’s happening in the house. It’s hard to hear past the beating heart echoing in my ears. I begin to quickly sweep through the house, clearing a laundry room, pantry, and storage room. It’s then I hear things I shouldn’t be hearing. Things I wish I weren’t hearing. Loud voices, screams, grunts, a scuffle. I take off in a sprint, passing a huge kitchen, before entering the living room.

And what I see scares the shit out of me.

I’m trained for this. I’ve been through just about every scenario possible. Between the Marines and the sheriff’s department, I’ve seen a lot of bad things. Things that haunt you, things that give you nightmares. Hell, I nearly had my arm blown off.

Still, I’ve never been more terrified than I am right now.

Lulu is sprawled on the floor, trying to scramble away from the maniac grabbing at her ankles and legs, trying to pull her underneath his body. Her eyes are drawn wide in fear. Her beautiful honey and caramel-colored hair is a tangled mess. Her neck is red and spotted with trapped blood, looming just under the surface of her bronzed skin. Did he cover her in hickeys? A coffee table has been turned over and shards of glass litter the shiny floor.

Phillip’s face contorts in anger. His face is covered in scratches. One is bleeding. The crisp white collar of his suit is marred with crimson. “Why couldn’t you just move on?” he screams.

“Because she’s my sister!” Lulu’s shrill scream shatters my fear.

And I get angry.

Very, very angry.

“Get the fuck away from her!” I level my service weapon right at his head. “I will shoot!”

And I’m a damn good shot.

For the first time, Phillip notices me. His head slowly turns. His eyes are glazed, not even focusing. He looks possessed. Demented. Inhuman. Lulu uses the opportunity to shuffle her right leg free, and before I can bark another order at the son of a bitch, she hauls back, kicking him right in the sternum with the heel of her foot.

And My Lulu kicks hard.

He grunts in pain and rolls to his side, fully freeing her. I rush him, quickly securing my weapon in my back waistband. Right before I reach him, he scrambles to his knees and violently lunges for my legs, trying to sweep me off my feet.

Hell yeah, motherfucker. Bring it on.

Kicking him backward, I kneel across his chest and fucking punch the shit out of him. One punch. A fucking glorious punch. Good enough to make me all warm and fuzzy on cold winter nights for years to come. Bones crunch, blood flies out of his mouth, and his eyes roll back in his head.

Turning him to his stomach—none too gently, I might add—I grab the zip ties from the pocket of my vest and work at securing his hands.

I have to yell at Lulu to be heard over Phillip’s painful moans and garbled words of protest. “Are you okay?”

Lulu’s in shock, scanning the room from one corner to the next. Her body is poised to strike, ready to defend herself against anyone else who tries to harm her.

She’s a fighter. A hellcat. The strongest woman I know.

I shift my head, begging her to make eye contact with me. “Are you okay?”

She looks at me. Looks at Phillip. And nods. Just one time.

Once Phillip is cuffed, I sit him up, leaning him against the couch. It’s more than he deserves. I want to toss him out the window. I want to beat him until the life vanishes from his eyes. I want to break every bone in his body, make him pay for laying one single finger on My Lulu.

My body hums. I’m shaking with anger.

I can’t control myself.

My fist curls into a ball, and I’m about to pummel his bloody face even more when I hear the coordinated scatter of feet. The tell-tale click of weapons, readying for a fight. Having Marcum as my partner, as my mentor, has given me a connection with him, an untethered umbilical. I don’t need to see him to know he’s here. I quickly call out, giving him the all-clear. I’m just standing up when everyone charges the room. Marcum makes it to Lulu first, bending to her level, his eyes and hands scan her body, asking if she’s okay. He yells for Colson to call a medic.

“I’m fine. Help me up,” she answers. I can’t help but notice the scratchy timbre of her voice.

Phillip’s house is in the city limits, so there’s both city police and sheriff’s deputies here. The patrol officers take charge of Phillip, and I give them the ten-second rundown of events. Anything more, and they’ll have to wait. I need to see my wife.

Now.

Lulu’s standing in the corner of the room, watching everyone. She’s investigating. She’s thinking. She’s marking everything to memory. Marcum is patting her shoulder, and Leary is urging her to take a few sips of a sports drink. I’m not sure where he got it. He must’ve raided the kitchen.

Marcum narrows his eyes. “We’ll talk about you making entry by yourself another time.”

I snort. “You can talk until you’re blue in the face. I’d do it a hundred times over to save my woman.”

He slaps me on the back as he walks away, trying to hide a small smile. “I know. And we’ll never be able to thank you for it.”

I long to wrap my arms around Lulu. I need to feel her. I need to kiss her. But she’s still in a stupor.

My adrenaline is starting to fall. My vision is blurry, and my racing heart feels like it’s skipping a beat or two as it tries to slow down. If I feel this crazed, I can only imagine what she’s feeling. This trauma could break her.

God, help me, I plead. I don’t want to break her. Not again.

They teach us how to deal with victims.

But not when the victim is our wife.

I take a tentative step toward her. We’re so close I can feel her breath dance across my skin. It’s silent but labored, like she’s about to start hyperventilating. “Lulu?”

Her hand plays with the scar on the back of her neck and her eyes keep darting to the officers as they work with Phillip.

Slowly, I reach around. Gently knocking her hand away, I replace it with my own. I rub my calloused fingers over her scar. Back and forth, just the way she likes. “Lulu?”

She blinks, trying to focus. Licking her lips, she swallows. The movement draws my attention to the petechia and red marks on her neck. It’s undeniably fingerprints. He tried to strangle her. She’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow. Fury ignites my anxiety, making my heart thunder against my ribcage like a freight train.

She coughs, trying to clear the pathway for her voice. Her strained whisper breaks my heart. “He killed my sister.”

I nod. “I know.”

“And her baby.”

My shredded heart breaks even more. “I know.”

Finally, her eyes find mine. “He tried to kill me.”

I nearly collapse.

I need her. Holy shit, I need her like I need air to breathe. I was nearly too late. This is all my fault. I should’ve put the pieces together before now. I can’t believe I let this happen to her.

How can she ever forgive me?

Again.

She can’t stop the tears as they flow down her face. She wipes her eyes, smearing her expensive eye makeup down her cheeks.

And then…

She smiles.

One soft smile. Just for me.

“I hate crying in front of people.”

That’s the only invitation I need.

Hauling her into my arms, I sweep her from her feet and carry her from the room. With every step I take, her sobs grow louder and louder. She wraps her arms around my neck, struggling to grip me tighter and tighter. If she could crawl inside my body right now, she would.

And I would do the same fucking thing.

Racing from the house, I breathe a sigh of relief when we step into the night air. The sky is a fireworks display of swirling red and blue lights. Dozens of people mill around. Radio chatter drowns the symphony of the once-calm night.

Pulling down my tailgate, I carefully set Lulu on the back of my truck. She doesn’t even get one single inch away from me before I’m crashing my mouth to hers. Her lips are dry and hot. Grabbing the sides of her face, I drive my tongue into her mouth. She immediately kisses me back. As always, she gives just as much as she takes. Her fingers grab my waist, pulling me between her legs. She wildly grabs at my shirt. I carefully take the gun from my back waistband and lay it out of harm’s way on the truck, never breaking my connection with her. When she finally untucks my shirt from my slacks and her fingers slide across the muscles of my abdomen, she sighs in relief and her body relaxes.

Eventually, we both need to breathe. We stop kissing, but I don’t let her go. I wrap her in a hug. Her fingers tangle in my hair. Tucking my lips against the shell of her ear, I tell her I love her. She buries her face in the crook of my neck, soaking me with her tears. I can’t be sure, but I may be crying too.

“I love you. I love you so much. I’m so sorry, Lulu. I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I love you.”

“I love you. Ry, I love you.”

She’s breaking the rules.

I’m caught off guard when Marcum clears his throat. Pulling my head away from Lulu, I see him standing right beside us. By the looks of it, I would assume he’s been standing there a while.

But he’s not embarrassed. And neither am I.

His eyes look bloodshot, and I realize that this must’ve been a nightmare for him too. He thinks of Lulu as a daughter. She reaches out, tenderly touching his face. He bites his lip and nods. “The ambulance is here, sweetie. They need to take you to the hospital. We have to make sure you’re okay.” He nods to two paramedics standing behind him with a stretcher. “We, uh,” he’s so emotional, he can barely get the words out, “need to document all of your injuries.”

Her eyes widen and she looks back and forth between the two of us. “You’ll both go with me, won’t you?”

I squeeze her thigh. “Of course, we will. The other guys can stay while the scene is processed.”

Right at that moment, Colson walks up, holding an evidence bag. “Speaking of, I need to collect your weapon, Crutch.”

I doublecheck the chamber and safety and drop my gun into the evidence bag. “It wasn’t fired, of course. Lulu beat me to the punch. Or kicked me to the punch, I should say.”

Colson hugs Lulu. “I’m glad you’re okay, kid.”

She laughs, making herself hiccup through her tears. “That’s right. Who will wreak havoc on your desk if I’m not here?”

He shakes his head and holds out his hands for my vest. Turning the camera off, I pull it over my head. I hope the brass doesn’t hound me for making out with the victim. Hopefully, they’ll be a little understanding considering it’s the night of our engagement and all.

A young city officer peeks around my shoulder. I recognize him. He’s a regular at Will’s bar. “Excuse me, Sergeant Crutchfield, would you like to read the rights?”

We all watch as Phillip rounds the side of my truck, being led to the waiting patrol car by Leary and Wilson. I look at Lulu, gauging her reaction. True to fashion, she straightens her shoulders and lifts that stubborn little nose of hers in the air. She holds out her hands, wanting me to help her down from the truck. Carefully, I lift her and set her on the ground.

“Marcum,” I grip his shoulder, “you started this. You need to finish it. It’s what Carrie would want.”

Marcum walks over to Phillip. Standing right in front of his face, he starts to recite the Miranda rights. Cutting around me, Lulu immediately joins them. Her fingers wrap around Marcum’s, tightly.

We all watch in awe as he delivers the warning to Phillip, hand in hand with the woman who brought him down.