Bree rose and held out a hand. “Thank you.”
“You are very welcome.”
They shook hands over the desk.
Bree didn’t ask for a cost estimate. What was the point? She needed them.
She left the office and slid into her vehicle. On the way back to the station, Bree made the call to BCI. As she discussed the case and made arrangements for the files to be picked up that afternoon, she felt less confident about the case surrender. It wasn’t in her nature to give up.
The murder investigation was now out of her control. All she could do was hope her decision didn’t come back to bite her on the ass.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Matt paced as he waited for Bree in the conference room. He’d pressured her to stop hiding their relationship. Being accused of impropriety was exactly the reason she’d wanted to be discreet. But he hadn’t wanted to sneak around. He wanted more from a relationship. Companionship, friendship, loyalty, sex.
He wanted it all.
Had he been selfish?
Was this his fault?
Bree was the first person he’d met in his life with whom he felt the kind of connection that could lead to a lifetime commitment. He’d never even considered it before. But she made him want more.
She walked into the conference room, closed the door, and sank into a chair. Propping her elbows on her knees, she dropped her head into her hands. “We’re giving up the case.”
Matt rested a hand on her back. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” She lifted her head and summarized her meeting with Morgan Dane.
“Ask yourself a few hard questions.” Matt rubbed between her shoulder blades. “Why is Bernard going on the attack? Why didn’t he help you find his sister’s killer? And most of all—why did he tell so many lies?”
Bree scrubbed her hands down her face. “He’s hiding something.”
“Yep, and you were getting close to the truth. The easiest way to keep you from exposing his secret is to force you out of office or off the case.”
“And it worked.” Her back straightened. “I caved.” She glanced at the reports and photos spread out over the table. “Marge is going to inventory, copy, and box everything up. I want a record of everything they take. Major cover-our-butts action. Are all your reports finished?”
Matt nodded. “I’ll shred my personal notes.”
Cops’ personal notes could be subpoenaed by defense attorneys and were generally destroyed after an arrest was made and the case handed over to the prosecutor’s office.
“Good,” Bree said. “BCI is sending someone for the files later today. They don’t want to waste any time.”
“The situation is out of your control,” Matt said. “But Bernard won’t be able to pull the same stunt with BCI. I know some of the detectives over there. They’re good. They won’t give him a pass because he’s indignant and his daughter is a decent lawyer.”
“I hope not.”
“It’s the right thing to do, even if giving up the case is the last thing I want you to do.”
“Yeah, I know. But it still stinks.”
“It certainly does,” Matt said. “But look on the bright side. No more late nights, right? More time with the family. How did it go at the school? Is Luke OK?”
“Some kid at school was sharing the deepfake video. Luke punched him, right in the face.”
Matt smiled. “Good kid.”
Bree snorted. “You would say that. He’s been suspended.”
“In this case, that’s a badge of honor. He stood up for you.”
“He did.” She seemed to shake off her mood.
“If I saw someone sharing that video, I’d punch them too.”
“I’ve no doubt of that.” Her eyes softened for a few seconds, then she frowned. “I haven’t heard from Todd this morning. Have you?”
“No. He didn’t answer his phone.”
Worry lines bracketed Bree’s eyes. “I’ll send a deputy out to his house to check on him.”
Someone knocked. Matt pulled his hand off Bree’s back as the door opened, hating that necessity. Damn it. This was exactly what he hadn’t wanted: a relationship that felt as wrong as it did right.
One that needed to be hidden.
Marge slipped into the room, closing the door behind her and leaning on it. “Madeline Jager is in the lobby. She called three times while you were gone. Now, she’s ragey. Want me to send her away?”
Bree stood and flattened a hand on the table. “No. I’ll talk to her. If I avoid her, she’ll smell weakness.”