White Lies (A Twisted Fate 1)

Me: I’m okay. At the precinct. I’ll be home shortly.

Carson: Thanks for texting me. Wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m going to head to my place to get some things if you still want me to stay at your house.

Me: Thanks, Carson. I’d like for you to stay a little longer if you can. It means a lot that you’re here.

Carson: Wouldn’t be anywhere else. I’ll be back to your place as soon as possible.

I knew he meant it. There was no telling what was put on hold business wise for Carson to leave early.

I got out of my car and headed up the concrete steps to the state-of-the-art police station. Hopefully, Commander Taylor remembered our brief encounter and would give me something a little more than the “investigation was still open” like the other officers had done over the phone.

The reflective glass doors greeted me. I was dressed in jeans and a yellow summer blazer with my hair pulled back in a ponytail. Any happiness was devoid from my body language. Sadness rolled off me in droves. But I knew I had to keep pushing forward to make it through. When you stood still, you risked the chance of being washed away.

Plastering on a pleasant expression, I opened the door and mentally prepped myself. It was morning, and the place was deserted as I approached the front desk. Only the smell of stale coffee lingered in the air.

A female officer sat behind the desk in her blue uniform. “May I help you?”

“Yes, I’d like to speak with Commander Taylor regarding the murder of Alex Thompson. My name is Willow Russo.” I never changed my name after we got married. Alex actually encouraged me not to. Only a few of my closest friends knew I was married, because Alex hadn’t wanted me to broadcast it. It bothered me, but with the PTSD, I hadn’t questioned it much. There were quirks that were better left alone.

She nodded after taking a few notes. “He’s in a meeting. Do you want to wait?”

“Yes, please.”

Keys clicked on her computer. “Perfect. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Making my way first to the coffee machine, I poured a cup and mixed in some creamer as I tried not to watch two officers chat with each other on the other side of the room. The coffee smelled old, but something was better than nothing at this point. The chattering stopped momentarily as they glanced my way, which caught my attention.

I met their gazes, and the officers looked away and continued their conversation. I felt paranoid and did another quick take of the place, finding it void of anyone else.

Idly, I wondered if they knew Alex and recognized me. Probably not since he was undercover and I’d only been here once. He kept no photos of us in his wallet. In fact there weren’t any photos of us except on our wedding day in Vegas. If only I had done things differently, in retrospect, after all that had transpired through the last year.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that we got married. On a whim, shortly after he left the military, Alex surprised me with a trip to Vegas. It was an incredibly romantic weekend. Though I’d sensed a change, I loved him and agreed to marry him.

Something in the pit of my stomach had warned me, but I’d ignored it, thinking love conquered all.

Always go with my gut. I should have known.

My mind drifted to better times.

We were at the airport. I’d been an emotional wreck on the inside all morning but forced myself to be calm on the outside. The love of my life was leaving to head back to base. Within forty-eight hours, Alex would deploy. There was a chance I wouldn’t hear from him again until he arrived at the base overseas. He explained that at times I might go weeks without hearing from him. Weeks. And when I did hear from him, it would probably only be through e-mail.

How was I going to survive going that long not knowing if he was okay?

“Sweetheart, don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

I laid my head against his chest. “I know you do. I’m trying not to be upset.”

Fingers came up underneath my chin, and I looked into those gorgeous green eyes I’d become addicted to over the last few weeks. “Willow, I will come back for you. I’ll make you my wife. We’ll have a little girl and a little boy. That will be my perfect world.”

A tear streaked down my face. “I want that, too.”

He pulled out a picture from his bag. It was of me smiling up at him. This morning, when we were getting ready, I’d put on lipstick and put a big kiss in the corner of it. “I’ll keep this close to me all the time. Even if you don’t hear from me, I’ll be thinking of you. I love you, Willow.”

“I love you, too. I’ll be waiting for you. I’ll wait forever.”

“You won’t have to.”

Thirty minutes passed while I was lost in similar memories before the officer from the front desk approached me. She grinned, which hopefully meant good news for me. “Ms. Russo, Commander Taylor is on his way up to meet with you.”

“Oh, thank you. Perfect.”

Sweat coated my palms as nerves settled over me. I wasn’t sure what I should or shouldn’t say. I noticed a gentleman reading a paper in the far corner and glancing my way every few minutes. Where had he come from? It was as if he materialized out of thin air. I kept looking at him, unable to look away, willing him to glance my way again. He stayed intent on reading the paper.

The officer cleared her throat, breaking my focus. I threw away my almost-full cup of coffee. It had only set my nerves more on edge.

As I grabbed my purse, the man caught my attention again. His gaze lingered longer than necessary. I was the only one in the area for him to be staring at. He was older, wearing a golfer’s hat. Large glasses covered his face.

Again, his stare met mine and held for a few seconds before he looked away. Chills ran down my back. I wasn’t sure why or what they meant. Was I being paranoid as Alex’s warnings bounced around in my head?

One night, about two months after getting married and right before he left on an undercover assignment, Alex had said, “Willow, if they find out I’m an undercover cop, they could come for you. Be careful. Don’t tell anyone we’re married.”

I’d packed my bags and stayed with Nonno for a week. I barely slept a wink until I got my fear under control. Then I decided he was probably being an asshole. But on the off chance, I’d remained cautious. What if there was some truth to what he said?

After leaving the military, Alex entered a self-destruct mode, which was common with PTSD. Nothing I said convinced him to stop. What if he had told someone about me?

“Ms. Russo?”

I turned to see the man I remembered meeting in the lobby. “Commander Taylor, thank you for seeing me. I hoped—”

“Let’s go to my office to talk.” His shortness caught me off guard. Had I done something wrong? My husband just died, and I had zero answers. I thought coming down here face to face was better than calling. To me it seemed normal for the wife of a murdered officer to come to the police station. Phone calls had the possibility of being taped.

Nodding, I followed the broad-shouldered man with the crew cut. His strides were heavy and his posture was unfriendly, which only heightened my anxiety. His fists were clenched at his sides, adding hostility to the air.

At the end of the hall, I was ushered into an office. Quickly, I glanced around. At the back was a bookshelf filled with awards and golfing trophies. In front, was a huge desk that made the room feel smaller and intimidating—like the commander.

Without a word, Commander Taylor sat behind his desk. His brown eyes grew colder. “Why the fuck are you here? Have you come to carry on your late husband’s vendetta?”

What. The. Hell?

Vendetta?

Carry on?

This was bad. My spine shot ramrod straight as adrenaline pumped through my veins.

Taking a few steps back, my fingers wrapped around the door knob as my heart escalated. I worked to swallow the lump that had formed in my throat. The air became thick. I took a deep breath. It was time to leave. “I-I-I

came to talk about Alex’s murder.” I took a steadying breath before I continued. “I wanted to know if he was undercover when he died. And if you could tell me anything to help explain what happened. I don’t know anything about a vendetta. This was a mistake coming here today.”

This was not how I imagined coming here would be. I thought, at worst, he would give me the brush off.

Maybe having Carson with me would have been for the best. I’d flung the door open when I heard, “Wait, Ms. Russo. Please.” Slowly, I turned to see some of the ice had left the man’s eyes. “Will you close the door?”

The door clicked shut, but my hand remained on the knob. I wanted to be able to escape quickly if I needed to. My instincts told me to stay, while my head said to leave.

Silence permeated the room.

“Are you playing a game?” His menacing tone rankled me.

My mouth dropped open. Was he testing me? Before I left, I wanted to put this man in his place as all the suffocating emotions made their way to the surface.

I practically spit as I said, “How dare you ask me that! I came here for answers. This isn’t a game. I just lost my husband!”

My shouting startled me quiet. I took a deep breath and focused on the cream-colored walls before I met the commander’s eyes again. “I’m sorry. I’m not a yeller. I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about with vendettas and games. All I want is some answers. Alex was with me the night before. Then he was gone. I know being undercover is dangerous. But as his wife, I thought I would be given a little more than ‘the case is still open’ and when his remains will be sent to the crematory.”

A tear tracked down my face as I continued. “I know it’s against protocol to come in. Alex repeatedly warned me against it. I get it, but I need something more. Anything. I loved him.”

The commander stood, and I backed against the door, twisting the knob. With his hands up, he sat back down. “Please have a seat. I’ll stay where I’m at. I understand why I’ve made you nervous.”

This was a complete change from his earlier demeanor. He was softer.

Tentatively, I took a few steps to one of the chairs in front of his desk, not trusting this sudden change.

“Ms. Russo, I don’t know how to say this. I hope you’re not lying about the games. But I don’t think you are.” He paused, and I stared at him, not knowing what to say. He continued, “Your husband, Gabriel Alexander Thompson, was not an undercover cop. He blackmailed me to give you the illusion that he was. I kept up the farce at all costs. I don’t know what he was involved in, but it wasn’t good. His record is nearly blank. Trust me; I tried to find something on the bastard.”

The blood drained from my face as the words registered. “Wh-what are you saying?”

This wasn’t happening. No way. I wanted to leave, pretend the commander was lying.

Alex was a lot of things, but I never thought of him as a liar.

He leaned forward. “I’ve been reading people for a while, and I can tell you had no idea.”