Fortitude Smashed Page 26

  Chelsea nodded. “Yes, it did. Aiden had a point to prove and he proved it. He’s smarter than I gave him credit for.”

  “He pushed your buttons, Chels. He started a fight for no reason. It didn’t need to happen,” he reiterated.

  “I said ugly things. I hit him hard,” she said, sighing.

  “Hell yeah, you did. I would’ve hit him, too.” Daisy cracked her eyes open and smiled at Chelsea. “He wouldn’t have done what he did if he was unsure of the outcome. He was trying to break you down.”

  “It worked.” Chelsea sipped her fifth drink and winced. “God, how does he drink this stuff?”

  “Years of practice,” Aiden mumbled, stirring awake. “You intimidate the shit out of me.”

  “Me?” Chelsea laughed and took another drink. “I intimidate you?”

  Aiden didn’t open his eyes, but he craned his head in search of Shannon’s hands. “Yes, Chelsea, now it’s your turn. Say something true.”

  “You…” Chelsea paused.

  She looked to Shannon, and he nodded.

  The witching hours were beehives full of turbulent honesty.

  “I’m jealous of you. I envy your ability to be whoever you want without repercussion,” Chelsea said.

  “Someone else go,” Aiden said sleepily.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be as great as my dad, and I don’t think I want to. I don’t know if I have it in me to give up what he gave up,” Shannon said. He leaned on the end of the couch so the back of his head was propped up by the armrest.

  Aiden wrapped his hand around Shannon’s thigh.

  Daisy cleared her throat. “I ate a piece of salami by accident when I was in college and cried in the middle of the cafeteria.”

  Shannon tried to swallow his laughter, but Aiden didn’t.

  It was too late and too early at once, but it didn’t matter. They laughed until it hurt, until Chelsea started to cry, and Aiden opened his eyes, and truths turned into confessions. They laughed until Daisy admitted that she’d been lonely for a long time, and they laughed until Chelsea started talking about her father.

  Aiden sat up only to crawl between Shannon’s legs. He leaned back against Shannon’s chest, and Shannon wrapped around him.

  “I miss my parents,” Aiden whispered.

  “I miss them, too.” Daisy pulled Mercy closer to her face.

  “What happened to them?” Chelsea, blissfully unaware, tilted her head. She took a sip of her drink and blinked, watching Aiden closely, with a blanket pulled around her shoulders.

  “They died,” Aiden said. Shannon felt Aiden’s chest lift, a breath of preparation. “They went to Big Bear for their anniversary. I had a game—I played soccer,” he clarified, leaning his head against Shannon’s shoulder. “My grades were low so they benched me. The school told my parents. They left the cabin early to talk to one of my guidance counselors. Someone tried to pass in the opposite lane. It was a head-on collision.”

  Shannon listened, and kept still, making sure not to move suddenly or take long breaths, scared that if he did Aiden might flee, a startled bird, a flighty deer.

  “Don’t say you’re sorry,” Aiden said gently.

  Chelsea opened her mouth.

  “Don’t say it wasn’t my fault, either.”

  Chelsea closed her mouth.

  Aiden took one of Shannon’s hands and it slid it under his tank top. Shannon drew patterns on his stomach and listened to him breathe. He leaned his cheek against Aiden’s temple, nosing along his jaw until Aiden tucked forward, taking shelter beneath Shannon’s chin.

  “It’s against the rules of nature for me to like you, Aiden Maar,” Chelsea said.

  Aiden smirked, but Shannon could tell how close he was to falling back to sleep. His body was loose and pliant, his eyes were closed, and his breathing was slow. After six months, Shannon was still entranced by Aiden like this—too close to dreaming to be anything other than peaceful and uncomplicated.

  “But I do.” Chelsea sighed. “I’m rather upset at myself for it.”

  “It’s okay, I like you, too.” Aiden yawned. He curled up against Shannon’s torso, legs kicked over Shannon’s thigh. “But let’s not get carried away. You’re still a bitch. I’m still an asshole.”

  Shannon closed his eyes. He wasn’t comfortable, but he didn’t care, because Aiden was almost asleep.

  “Cheers to being friends,” Daisy said. Her arm dangled over the edge of the couch, holding an almost-empty cup. “And to fighting the good fight.”

  It was 3:32 a.m. A time full of secrets that weren’t secrets and fears that weren’t fears.

  35

  Shannon should’ve texted Piper before they obtained the warrant. Karman disagreed and repeated as they drove in the I-5 fast lane that everything would go as planned.

  Instinct was the first indication that things wouldn’t go as planned. It nagged in his stomach, whispered in the back of his mind, today isn’t the day, turn around, wait, but Shannon didn’t listen, because Karman was rarely wrong.

  Rarely.

  00:00

  Daisy Yuen 3/20 4:03 p.m.

  Yo can I come kick it at your work tonight?

  Aiden Maar 3/20 4:05 p.m.

  yeah do it we can play pool when I get off

  Daisy Yuen 3/20 4:05 p.m.

  Rad. I’ll bring you food.

  Aiden sent four thumbs-up emojis.

  00:00

  “We should call for backup, Karman.”

  “We’re here for the wife, not the dude. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to stay here. Chill out.”

  Shannon adjusted his badge, then his gun. “I have a bad feeling.”

  “You’re full of bad feelings. Get out of your head, Wurther.”

  A dog barked from the house next door. There was a pink Little Tikes tricycle in the driveway next to a beat-up Volkswagen. A rocking chair swayed back and forth on the porch. Someone had been outside moments before their arrival. They’d left their steaming cup of coffee on a dusty square table. The screen door had four locks. The front door behind it had two.

  Karman knocked. Shannon kept his hands in front of him and not on his holstered gun.

  The front door opened. Karman kept the screen door propped with her foot and flashed her badge.

  Hollow eyes belonging to a scrawny woman with tousled dark hair and loose skin stared back at them.

  “Mrs. Mortez?” Karman smiled pleasantly.

  The woman gave a stiff nod.

  “I’m Detective Cruz.” Karman gestured to Shannon. “This is my partner, Detective Wurther. We have some questions; may we come inside?”

  Mrs. Mortez attempted to slam the door. Karman’s palm shot out, followed by the bottom of her boot. She kicked the door open. Mrs. Mortez yelled something in Spanish. Shannon’s heartbeat sped up. He stole a glance at Karman, then into the house, back at Karman.

  Karman shouted in Spanish. She didn’t look back at Shannon. “He’s here!” Karman drew her gun. “Get on the ground! You’re under arrest!”

  Shannon’s hands shook. Something crashed in the far room, down the hall, next to the kitchen. Shannon could see the side of a sink on the left and heard muffled voices from a television on the right. Cartoons. The back door slammed.

  “Karman, wait!”

  00:00

  Daisy shook a paper bag at Aiden as she walked up to the bar.

  “You like falafel, right?”

  Aiden nodded. Dysthymia was a bitch, and despite the years that passed and the fact that Aiden was perfectly capable of feeding himself, Daisy still brought him dinner from time to time. He’d never liked looking back on the extent of his high school wreckage, but Daisy’s presence brought it to the forefront of his mind.

  When he was sixteen, she’d made sure he ate, hid bottles of alcohol from him,
and attempted to get him to graduate. None of her love could’ve kept him from derailing: not when she flushed the drugs down the toilet, not when they sat in companionable silence during the nights he refused to sleep, not when she cried to him after junior prom, you’re my best friend and you’re gonna die if you keep this up! Don’t take yourself from me, Aiden, don’t you dare.

  But he didn’t die, even if he thought he was going to, even if he wanted to.

  Daisy went to college. Aiden stayed alive.

  “Hey, you all right?” Daisy dipped the edge of her sandwich into a container of tahini sauce.

  Aiden blinked the memories away. “Yeah, thanks for the food. What do I owe you?”

  Daisy shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “You sure you wanna hang out for four hours while I work?” Aiden crunched a green pepper.

  “I brought my tablet; I’ll doodle.”

  00:00

  Shannon heard the first gunshot.

  He didn’t hear the second. His heartbeat was too loud.

  Karman’s voice was a siren, panic rising into high-pitched caution when she shouted, “Put her down!”

  A little girl whimpered. Saliva pooled in Shannon’s mouth.

  “David, we can talk about this,” Karman said.

  David Mortez was as hollow as his wife. His eyes were sunken, two dull, dark orbs. The skin around his mouth was dry and chapped. His body was made of long arms and longer legs—a skeleton wearing a coat of ashen skin.

  Shannon could’ve made the shot. If he pulled the trigger, he wouldn’t hit the child in David’s arms, the mess of shaking bones and pink ribbon pigtails. Shannon could’ve put a bullet between David’s rabid eyes. His index finger twitched.

  It comes with the job, son. One day you’ll pull that trigger.

  The little girl rambled in Spanish. David shoved the gun harder against her shoulder.

  Karman said something to her gently, Shannon didn’t know what.

  “Put her down, and we’ll work this out.” Karman’s hand tightened on her own gun. She gasped, holding her ground when David swept the gun out in front of him and aimed at her.

  Shannon could’ve made the shot, but he couldn’t pull the trigger.

  David let the girl go. She crumbled by his feet. David’s hands quaked around his gun, silver and small, pointed at Karman’s chest. He stepped toward the back door.

  “Stay where you are!” Karman stepped forward.

  Another shot.

  Shannon knocked Karman to the floor.

  The bullet hit the wall behind them. Footsteps echoed off the back stairs, and the little girl crying by the television screamed. A car roared to life. Tires squealed. Karman stirred beneath him, her chest filling and emptying—a rhythm Shannon kept count of while his fingers went slack around his gun.

  Shannon could’ve made the shot.

  00:00

  Aiden worked behind the bar, while Daisy sketched on her tablet in a booth.

  Hours went by slowly at first, but steadily speeded up as the night went on. By the time Aiden was about to clock out for the night, 101 was packed. Herds of people came in for drinks after long days at work or for a mid-week meet up with friends. He was used to it and made cocktails two at a time, sometimes three at a time.

  Carver had already approached Aiden about a promotion, and now that he could bartend during the week, Aiden was certain he’d be bumped up to lead bartender soon.

  “Evening, what can I get you guys?” Aiden leaned over to catch an order of five drinks for a group playing pool. “I’ll bring it out to you guys, all right? What’s the tab under?” He listened, nodded. “Yeah, sure, no problem.”

  Aiden took the twenty, stuffed it in his pocket, and made margaritas. It was about time to clock out. After he ran the drinks and unloaded the dishwasher, he’d finally get a minute to sit. His feet hurt, another thing he was used to, and he curled his toes in his boots to alleviate the ache.

  “Daisy?” Aiden carried the tray of drinks toward the pool tables, craning his neck to see if she was still doodling in one of the booths.

  There was no sign of her.

  He dropped the drinks off, thanked the customers for their patience, and went to the back to unload the dishes.

  When he walked out, Daisy was nowhere to be found.

  “Carver!” Aiden swatted the bar. Carver’s green eyes flashed his direction. “Seen Daisy?”

  Carver shook his head. “Saw her talking to some guy a few minutes ago. Maybe she’s outside?”

  Aiden shoved his helmet under his arm and nodded. “Yeah, maybe. See you tomorrow, man.”

  The back door was heavy. It slammed shut as Aiden looked at his phone, checking to make sure she hadn’t texted or called.

  “Aiden!”

  Aiden dropped his helmet and his phone. His helmet carried more weight, and the crunch of it against the asphalt sent an echo around the empty parking lot. His phone clattered. It sounded like his body felt—brittle noises, bunched and sudden, the sound of his bones wincing.

  Daisy hadn’t screamed his name. Her voice was a gasp, a whimper, and a shout all at once.

  It was an unusual feeling, the kind that came after an abrupt reaction.

  Aiden’s bones continued to wince.

  He’d heard her, and then he’d seen her. He’d heard her, and then he’d gone cold. Emotions drained from him, a puddle beneath his feet. He shot toward the sound of her voice and the man who held her against the wall.

  Aiden didn’t bother saying put her down or get away from her. He ripped at the man’s arms and kicked his legs out from underneath him. Daisy hit the ground and clutched her neck where fingers had been wrapped. She gasped and choked and crawled out of the way.

  “The fuck, man—”

  Aiden’s fist knocked the rest of whatever the man was going to say out of his mouth.

  The man reeked of booze and smoke. He lumbered forward; one of his knees smashed into Aiden’s stomach. He was lazy in his intentions, swinging an arm haphazardly at Aiden’s head and missing completely. He swung again and knocked Aiden’s forehead against the wall. Fighting someone who was drunk wasn’t fighting at all, and Aiden was aware of that. Adrenaline kept everything numb. Another weak strike busted Aiden’s eyebrow. Aiden slammed the bottom of his boot into the man’s kneecap, once, twice, until it snapped.

  He heard Daisy call his name. He punched the man in the mouth again. And again. And again.

  The man hit the ground. He moaned, clutching his knee. Could he feel anything at all? Was he in pain? Did he regret it yet?

  Aiden swept his foot back, aimed, landed his laces on the side of the man’s face. He kicked him again. And again. And again.

  Time passed. He wasn’t sure how much. It couldn’t have been long.

  “Stop! You’ll kill him!” Daisy gripped Aiden’s arms. He brushed her away.

  Another kick. Blood splattered his jeans and he thought, good thing I wear black.

  Daisy shouted, “You’re better than this!” But it sounded as if it was being called across a football field. Aiden at one end, her at the other, the man at his feet, and his intentions solidly mounted in every strike he landed.

  The man was almost unconscious. Aiden kicked him in the chest.

  The back door opened. Daisy fumbled over an explanation.

  “Aiden!” Carver’s voice.

  Warmth filled his nostrils, dripped over his lip. Aiden wondered if his piercing was still in, or if the man had knocked it out. He slouched against the wall. The sound of tires against asphalt mingled with Daisy’s hiccups, and Aiden’s heavy breathing, and the man’s labored moans.

  “Aiden!” Karman’s voice.

  Daisy sobbed beside him. She tugged at her skirt. Carver opened one arm, a shield, and she crawled under it.

 
; The man stirred, tried to get on his feet. Aiden surged forward. Two hands latched around his forearms.

  “Aiden!” Shannon’s voice.

  00:00

  Karman and Shannon hadn’t spoken, not since they finished giving their descriptions to the deputies. Social services took the child. The Anaheim station would send them any information they found on David Mortez and his wife. Shannon texted Piper once they were off the freeway.

  Shannon Wurther 3/20 7:43 p.m.

  We’re fucking up this case

  Piper Kapoor 3/20 7:34 p.m.

  it’s the beginning don’t get discouraged

  “We’ll get him,” Karman said, breaking the silence. “He can only get away so many times.”

  Shannon didn’t say anything.

  They got the call while they were on their way home, sitting in silence and defeat, wondering if they’d taken on a case that was too big for them, a case that came with sacrifices Shannon didn’t know how to make. The call came in as any other call would. Dispatch read the description of those involved, and then gave the address.

  Sexual assault. Female victim. Two men involved. It didn’t register at first: not until Shannon repeated it in his head, the description, the address; not until he heard. Black and white hair.

  “Daisy…” Shannon didn’t know he’d said her name.

  Karman asked, “Is Aiden working tonight?”

  They looked at each other.

  Karman grabbed the radio. “Cruz and Wurther in pursuit.”

  Shannon flipped Aiden around. Karman stood beside them.

  Aiden’s face was covered in blood, most of it his own, but some of it not. His nose poured dark red, and his eyebrow was split. Shannon’s chest tightened. His stomach lurched. He stared, unable to tear his gaze away from the marks on Aiden’s face, from the dark of his pupils eating away the brown in his eyes.

  “Go.” Karman pushed Shannon’s shoulder. “You can’t do this part; go get the assailant.”

  Shannon stumbled. Aiden swatted Karman’s hand away from his face. Karman ushered him inside, and Shannon heard her say, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  The man on the floor stood up. Shannon gave him a once-over: his face, mangled by Aiden’s fists; his eyes, swollen slits; and his hands, red from where they’d landed on Aiden’s eyebrow, his nose, and his mouth. Shannon looked at the man, he grabbed his gun, and before he could think or say anything, he shoved it against the man’s temple. The man made a dismissive noise and went limp, probably unaware that the cold, smooth circle on his head was the barrel of a gun. “I should fucking kill you—”