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Cold Cases and Bitter Enemies




  COLD CASES AND BITTER ENEMIES

  J.M. DABNEY

  HOSTILE WHISPERS PRESS, LLC

  Copyright © 2022 by J.M. Dabney

  Hostile Whispers Press, LLC

  ISBN: 978-1-947184-57-2

  Print ISBN: 978-1-947184-58-9

  Photographer/Illustrator: Golden Czermak (FuriousFotog)

  Cover by: J.M. Dabney at Hostile Whispers Designs

  Edits by: AlternativEdits (Laura McNellis)

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  REMEMBER:

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places, is purely coincidental.

  PLEASE BE ADVISED:

  This book contains material that is only suitable for mature readers. It may contain scenes of a sexual nature and/or violence.

  For my readers who make telling my stories worth it.

  CONTENTS

  1. Graves

  2. Douglas

  3. Graves

  4. Douglas

  5. Graves

  6. Douglas

  7. Graves

  8. Douglas

  9. Graves

  10. Douglas

  11. Graves

  12. Douglas

  13. Graves

  14. Douglas

  15. Graves

  16. Douglas

  17. Graves

  18. Douglas

  19. Graves

  20. Douglas

  21. Graves

  22. Douglas

  23. Graves

  24. Douglas

  25. Graves

  26. Douglas

  27. Graves

  28. Douglas

  29. Graves

  30. Douglas

  31. Graves

  32. Douglas

  33. Graves

  34. Douglas

  35. Graves

  36. Douglas

  37. Graves

  38. Douglas

  39. Graves

  40. Douglas

  41. Graves

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by J.M. Dabney

  Writing As Siobhan Smile

  COLD CASES AND BITTER ENEMIES

  COLD CASE UNIT BOOK 3

  An unknown enemy wanted to take everything from us.

  Graves

  I’d spent all my forty-plus years paying for mistakes when I’d simply been human. Living in the shadow of my friend’s happiness grew harder every day. I didn’t mind being the odd one out. I didn’t mind being considered the unlovable strait-laced-ish one to their mayhem. Acceptance after a lifetime of not measuring up was nice. I’d found my rhythm and my place among the weirdness of my unit. That was until Marcel Douglas, the new ego-maniac in Homicide, decided he had to pick apart every case I’d left behind.

  Douglas

  Leaving Chicago hadn’t been in my plans, but my daughter needed me. I’d do anything to make her happy. When her mother was transferred overseas, I’d moved so my daughter could stay with her friends—the place she’d come to love. Being at the bottom of the hierarchy and earning respect didn’t sit right with my pride. I wasn’t afraid to admit that. And I’d made one hell of an enemy. Graves and his Cold Case Unit frustrated me, and I didn’t understand their methods. A series of body dumps brought me back to Graves for help, but he wasn’t feeling charitable.

  We’d thought we were our biggest and bitterest enemies until the threats came. Could we work together before the man gunning for us could finish the job?

  1

  GRAVES

  My partner, Stevenson, slouched down in his chair on the other side of our pushed-together desks, and I kept throwing paper clips at him as he whispered into his phone. The big, blond menace wasn’t exactly hiding the fact he was dirty talking to his boyfriend, Doc. I rolled my eyes as I tried to focus on the case file in front of me. He winked at me as I threw another clip particularly hard.

  “Should I speak up, Graves?” He smirked, and then his expression completely changed. “Aw, baby, you know I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re only mine.”

  “You two are disgusting.” I pushed up from my desk and escaped. At least the senior Detectives Robert and Remy Kauffman were at the courthouse that day. I couldn’t deal with those lovebirds either.

  I exited the building from the basement entrance where our Cold Case Unit was housed and circled the precinct to where I knew the coffee truck was parked at least until lunchtime. When I’d transferred to the new unit with three of my fellow Homicide Detectives, we’d caused a stir. But when Robert and Remy had taken over a serial killer case that they’d found hidden in the cold case files, I guess I’d enjoyed the interplay between them and Stevenson.

  I shoved my hands in my jean pockets. Over a year after being transferred, I still wasn’t used to not arriving at work in a suit and tie. We didn’t hold to a dress code unless we had to do interviews, check out leads, or the dreaded court dates. Spring was almost in the air, and the slightly chilly breeze raised the hairs on my bare arms.

  In my mind, I pictured how I looked and what my parents thought about my new career path. Being the only child of the District Attorney and State’s Attorney, I was an embarrassment. I mentally grimaced as I remembered the first Sunday dinner after I’d taken my place in Cold Case. They’d liked the media coverage on us busting a serial killer who had terrorized our city for a decade. But now that I wasn’t on a straight path to captain, hell, they’d hated the fact I’d become a cop.

  My career aspirations should’ve been much loftier. Maybe a State’s Attorney like my mother or a run for a political post, mayor, governor. But even before joining the academy, I’d never wanted any of those things.

  “Graves.”

  Dammit, I pretended I hadn’t heard the bane of my existence yelling my name and focused solely on the line that would lead me to the caffeine I needed.

  “Graves, I know you damn well heard me.”

  I stopped mid-step and turned on my toes to face Marcel Douglas, one of the newest Detectives in Homicide. The tall, Black man was about a head taller than me, which was unusual since I was almost six-two. He wore a suit the way a male supermodel did, and I hated him on sight for looking perfectly put-together. He had a shaved head and a perfectly groomed beard. I couldn’t find a flaw except for the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He’d picked up some of my cases when I transferred. We’d also inadvertently worked together when he’d found information on a cold case Stevenson investigated. I’d attempted to avoid him since.

  “You bellowed, Detective?”

  “Is it a requirement of the Cold Case Unit to be a brat?” he asked as he lifted a heavy brow and kept his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

  “That would be Remy. The rest of us are pretty normal, except Stevenson.”

  “Speaking of Stevenson, I’ve been trying to get through to Doc for over an hour.”

  “Mid-morning phone sex.”

  He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Of course. I don’t even want to go by the morgue anymore. I’ve heard things that would make a damn phone-sex operator blush.”

  The frustration in his tone almost made the corners of my lips twitch. There were occasions that I really did love my friends. I kept it low-key, but they became the family I’d never had
. Why they had to bring in Douglas, I didn’t know. Oh, yeah, I knew, the fact Douglas drove me crazy. It was particularly amusing to my friend, Vega.

  “What do you need from Doc?”

  “Just wanted to double-check his findings on a killing at Bella Notte.”

  “Bianchi’s club?” I’d known Carmine Bianchi since my days where I’d been assigned to the Organized Crime Squad back when I earned my detective shield.

  “Yeah. A body was found in the alley about a week ago. Seemed straightforward enough, but Doc had a theory that it was a body dump.”

  “Doc’s right.”

  “How is Doc always right? He’s gotta be wrong sometimes.”

  “Doc’s never wrong. You haven’t learned that yet?”

  “No one is that good. It’s impossible. How do your and their methods even work? There’s no rhyme or reason to it. It’s illogical.”

  “That’s more a nonsensical or philosophical discussion for Doc or his fellow genius, Vega. Not everything has lateral movement toward an answer. Sometimes you just have to throw knives at a wall and hope a few of them stick.”

  “Exhausting.”

  “Yes, you are. May I return to getting my coffee and hoping Stevenson and Doc’s little daily foreplay ritual has ended by the time I get back?”

  “You have a set-up in Cold Case that would make a barista jealous.”

  “But Stevenson is there.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that one.”

  I frowned at him and his failure to continue with our argument. He lived to argue. He thought we exhausted him, but I couldn’t be in the same space with him for more than ten minutes before I wanted to scream. I turned and crossed to the truck, rolling my eyes when I felt him behind me.

  “Weren’t we done?”

  “You’re not the only one who wants coffee, Graves, us lowly detectives in Homicide don’t get all the perks that Cold Case does.”

  “Oh, you mean, the heat that’s iffy. Probably a ceiling and shelves full of black mold. Or how we’re the ghouls in the dungeon?”

  “Are you always this argumentative, or am I just exceptionally lucky?”

  “Most would say it’s my winning personality, Douglas, but to be honest, it’s just you.”

  “Brat is definitely on the employment requirements for the dungeon.” He muttered, and I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply.

  “Simon, what can I get you today?” Jeff, the usual barista, greeted me.

  “My usual, please. All the caffeine and sugar.” I lifted my arms to lay them on the small counter as I rested my chin on my forearms.

  “Triple or quad?” He grabbed a large cup and turned away.

  “Quad shot today. I’m having to deal with Stevenson.”

  Jeff chuckled. “Last I heard, he’s practically moved his office to the morgue to be near Doc.”

  “Only if I could be so lucky.”

  “Don’t hate on the adorable man. When I saw him and Doc at Xanadu a few weeks ago, no one else existed. Doc has that man wrapped securely around his little finger.”

  Xanadu was a local kink-friendly club. I’d been invited to go a few times, and even though it wasn’t my scene, they dragged me along. For a while, I hadn’t thought it was Stevenson’s scene either. But it was odd what we learned about people we’ve known for years. I wasn’t the social type. I preferred my space. Yet my friends said I needed to be more sociable, and they’d taken it upon themselves to make sure it happened. As much as I complained, I’d never admit how much I loved the people watching when they took me out. It was better than being home alone all the time.

  “Could you add a large black coffee to that order? I’m paying.” Douglas stepped up too closely behind me.

  “Personal space, Detective.” I straightened to put a few more inches between us, but the side of the truck and the mass of Douglas’s body wasn’t allowing much of that.

  “Shut up and say thank you for the coffee.” He leaned down and ordered in my ear.

  “Thanks.” I hissed through my clenched teeth.

  “That sounded like it hurt, Graves. Simon, huh?”

  “It’s Graves. Use it.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “Simon, are you going to be at the Outreach Saturday?” Jeff asked.

  “Yeah, I’m babysitting for Saffy and Major, big date night. Aria is amazing. Have you seen her?”

  “Yes, Graves, I have, and I was shocked when they told me they had a regular babysitter in the guise of a taciturn detective.”

  “She’s the best baby. I was going to go to the Outreach for dinner and then let her run around in the playroom for a bit.”

  “Maybe I’ll meet you there for dinner. They’re trying out a new menu, and I have to see Boss. He has a few applicants for another truck. I’m expanding to the other side of the city. A lot of new construction.”

  “Well, text me. I have to pick Aria up at six. I have about five hours to kill that night.”

  Jeff shook his head at me as he turned around with the two to-go cups in his hands and set them on the counter.

  “Large, quad shot with five pumps of caramel and three sugars. One large black coffee.” Jeff gave Douglas the total, and I stepped out, finally taking a full breath without being sandwiched between him and the truck.

  The politeness ingrained in me didn’t let me run, but the part of me that didn’t like the man’s presence made it hard to stay. I took a sip of my coffee and let out a blissful sigh at the strong, sweet brew. I had the syrup at our coffee station, but I just never got it right.

  “How are you not bouncing all the time?” he asked, complaining.

  “I could chug this and still take a nap.”

  “Babysitting, huh?”

  “What of it? Major and Saffy are doing great. He got a job doing studio musician work through a reference from Vega’s wife, Cash. Major’s still a little overprotective since she got hurt, and with his benefits and the work, he said he made enough to take care of his girls.”

  “I wasn’t saying anything bad, just didn’t see you as a fan of kids.”

  “I do have nieces and nephews through Robert and Remy.” I turned to head back to the basement entrance.

  “You’re always running or arguing. I’m an asshole, Graves. I never claimed not to be. We got off on the wrong foot because I couldn’t see how your thought process worked.”

  “You called my work shoddy, Douglas.” I snarled at him.

  “And I think I’ve tried to apologize more than once.”

  “Oh, was that what you called what you attempted to do, apologizing? You called me illogical and asked how I became a detective.”

  “I apologized afterward.”

  I shook my head and quickened my steps.

  “My legs are still longer than yours. Are you going to hit a full sprint next?”

  I came to an abrupt stop and turned and tilted my head back to look at him. “Douglas, we’re not friends, we don’t work together, and why the hell are you following me?”

  “I’m hoping to steal Stevenson’s phone so I can talk to Doc without an interruption.”

  I peeked at my watch to check the time. “Good luck with that. He’s probably already gone and on his way to the morgue. Nine AM is their usual coffee date.”

  He cursed loudly. “I’m never getting that man’s full attention.”

  “If you have a Daddy voice it might work in your favor. Doc seems to respond to that, but Stevenson might take offense.”

  “Is that what would work with you, Graves? A Daddy voice?” His tone softened but strangely held a deeper rumble, and he smirked at me.

  “Even if I were gay, which I’m not, you wouldn’t be my type. Good day, Detective.” I left him standing there and was thankful when he didn’t follow. Just because I worked with a unit of all gay and bisexual people didn’t mean I was. The assumptions were made, and there was nothing I could do about it. And in my parents’ eyes, it was another failure on my part. I’d l
ong given up on pleading my case.

  2

  DOUGLAS

  The call came in at two AM, and I’d rolled out of bed, left a note on Savannah’s nightstand, and drove across the city to the crime scene. Thankfully my daughter was self-sufficient about getting up and dressed for school on her own. She shouldn’t have to be an adult already. I’d swore my kid would be a kid once she lived with me, but I was completely failing at that.

  My black SUV came to a stop just outside yellow crime scene tape and the strobe light show of red and blue. The address was becoming all too familiar. Bella Notte. Bianchi was connected. Hell, the man didn’t make a secret of that. I didn’t know if I believed he didn’t have anything to do with the previous body. No matter what Doc or Graves had to say about the medical examiner’s findings.

  Shit, as if just thinking about them conjured the two men, as I ducked under the tape, I saw Graves stood beside the body as Doc crouched beside it. Doc was scribbling notes on his clipboard. I’d learned quite a bit working with them on a murder and missing person’s case months previous. I could even say I’d made a few work friends, but Graves still rubbed me the wrong way, and if his attitude was proof, he felt the same toward me.

  “What sin did I commit?”

  “You’re just lucky, Detective.” Doc tipped his head back and batted his lashes.