Virna DePaul: Shades of Passion

Right. Other than that, he had exactly what he’d had before—a big fat zero. “Is there anything else you can tell me about Cann?”

“Just that he didn’t deserve to die.”

“I agree with you.” When she just continued to look at him, he asked, “You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you’re a dedicated cop. You want to do your job and do it well. But you have obvious biases against the mentally ill. I sensed you withdraw even as I used the word PTSD. But it doesn’t matter. I want the person who killed Mr. Cann found as much as you do. Probably even more so. I promise that if anyone does turn up with new information, we will contact you right away. Now, are you ready to see if any of our current residents will talk with you?”

He sighed.

Strike one.

More and more, he thought, this was a ball game he hated playing. But for now, at least, he was playing.

“Yes, Ms. Scott. I’d appreciate your assistance with that.”

* * *

THE NEXT DAY, BACK AT SIG headquarters, Simon glowered at the man in front of him.

Liam “Mac” McKenzie, SIG’s lead detective, stared back without flinching. “I see you’re not thrilled with the idea, but my hands are tied. Elaina Scott was crystal clear in her opinion that you shouldn’t be handling the Cann murder. She said your obvious dislike for the homeless, and in particular, the ‘mentally challenged,’ was quite apparent.”

Damn her, Simon thought. When he’d interviewed the few Welcome Home residents who’d been willing to talk to him yesterday, the interactions had gone smoothly. They hadn’t provided anything useful, but he’d been respectful and professional, just as he always tried to be. Scott must have still been pissed by the conversation they’d had in her office. Or maybe she just hadn’t believed him when he’d said he took accusations of a cop’s involvement in Cann’s murder seriously. “Come on, Mac. Since when does a bullshit complaint like this warrant pulling me off of a case?”

“I never said you were off the case. I said I want you to get some help. With the case and...off of it. DeMarco will assist. You’ve both been handling some tough cases lately with no time off to speak of. Consider the partnership a chance for a well-earned break.”

“And while DeMarco’s assisting, my well-earned break is going to consist of spilling my guts to some stranger?”

Mac sighed. “It’s called grief counseling. You need it.”

“That’s your opinion.”

“As well as Commander Stevens’s. Why do you think it was so obvious to Ms. Scott that you’re uncomfortable with mental health issues? Anyone who has them and anyone who talks about them?”

“Not everything is about Lana, damn it.”

“In this particular case, it is. It’s about Lana. It’s about you. Are you really surprised? We’ve been at you to get some help. There’s a reason we’re all worried about you.”

“Like?”

“Like it’s been over six months, yet you still leave the room if someone even mentions Lana’s name.”

Of course he did, Simon thought. Despite managing to visit her grave site the other day, hearing Lana’s name immediately caused a flood of memories to swirl through his mind. The last time they’d made love. The last time they’d laughed together. And the last time they’d argued just before she’d died. Yeah, they had been broken up before she’d been killed, but it wasn’t what he’d wanted. He’d still cared. Lana had still mattered. His insides felt like they were being squeezed in a vise, but he carefully kept his expression clear and his voice neutral.

“What’s there to talk about, Mac? Lana and I dated for a while, and dealing with her death’s been tough.” He shrugged. “Life goes on.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to, man? Lana didn’t just die. She was murdered. Violently. Yet you can’t seem to acknowledge that, can you?”

He glanced away, shoving the ache rising from his chest back down where it belonged, to the deep, dark place behind his ribs. He narrowed his gaze on the paper-filled trash can two feet in front of him. “Dead’s dead. What the hell difference does it make how she died? Elaina Scott’s accusations aside, tell me one thing I’ve messed up on the job. If you can’t, then I don’t need to see a damn shrink.”

“You haven’t messed up. Not yet. But it’s coming. This is just a preventative measure. You’re not sleeping, Simon. You look like shit. And your grim reaper attitude has everyone ready to slit their wrists whenever they’re in the office with you.”

Fuck. The desire to kick the trash can grew almost overwhelming. “Who’s complaining? Tyler? DeMarco? I saw the same shrink you guys did after Lana died and he cleared me for duty. The department has no right to impose mandatory therapy sessions.”

Mac shook his head. “No one’s complaining. Yes, you’ve been cleared for duty. And no, this counseling isn’t mandatory. You won’t lose your job if you don’t see it through.”

“No. But I’ll be stymied. Relegated to having an ‘assistant.’ Or I’ll work the less choice assignments. Great. That’s just great. Thanks for backing me up on this one, Mac.”

“Damn it, just listen! You’re hanging by a thread, Simon. You know it. We know it. And Commander Stevens knows it. No one’s wanted to push you, but this is where that ends. You want this case? You want the other ones that are coming down the pipeline? The big ones? See a shrink for regular counseling or take some time off before deciding to do it, but either way...”

“Yeah,” Simon growled. “Either way I’m gonna end up lying on some quack’s couch trying to convince her I’m not too much of a basket case to do the job we do, when only a basket case would want the job in the first place.”

Mac grinned. “You still have a sense of humor. Show the shrink that.”

“I wasn’t kidding. What we do is fucked up, Mac, and you know it. It’s what makes Lana’s murder just another day in the life.”

“So why are you still here then?”

“I won’t be. Not for long. It was a mistake coming back to SIG. I’ve known that for a while now. I was gonna wait before requesting a transfer, but this little dictate has just speeded my decision along.”

“A transfer?”

“I want back in management.”

“You tried management. You didn’t like it.”

“Maybe I didn’t give it enough of a chance.”

“I remember Lana telling you that. What? Now that she’s dead, you feel guilty enough to do what she’d have wanted you to?”

Simon smiled tightly. “Nice try, Mac, but I don’t feel guilty for her death. She put herself in a killer’s sights, and then she walked right up to him. She was careless despite the warnings I gave her. I’m not blaming myself, and that’s exactly what a shrink will tell you.”

Mac nodded. “Then you have nothing to worry about. If you want a shot at another management position, you need to prove you’re stable enough for it. That’s going to mean another psych evaluation eventually anyway. Might as well get it done now.”

Simon blew out a disgusted breath. “Might as well. It’ll probably take a while to get scheduled—”

“I made an appointment for next week. See this for what it is, Simon. Stevens and I are doing you a favor.”

“Yeah,” Simon grunted. “Thanks heaps. So what do I do in the meantime?”

“You’ll continue working the homeless murder case with DeMarco. Close it, see the shrink and you’ll get considered for management. Hell, I’ll even recommend your promotion myself. I’ll do everything I can to make it happen for you, Simon. But you have to work with me.”

Simon knew he didn’t have a choice. If he wanted a shot at a promotion, hell, if he wanted to continue working—and he needed to continue working—he had to appease Mac and Stevens. Volunteering to attend some damn fundraiser wasn’t going to be enough. Even solving Cann’s murder might not be.