Anastasia told us about the civil lawsuit last night, but this, the fact that there was possibly another inside force workingwith Celeste and Bakewell to cause all that destruction to our businesses, our livelihoods, for their own gain was a surprise.
That burned.
I didn’t gloat at the revelation; I didn’t cry or give in to the insurmountable relief inside me either. I simply exhaled, letting it all go with the wind.
The locals and the journalists froze, the same way I had. Silently, coyly, looking around, wondering who could be behind the crimes. While I didn’t love the idea of people pointing fingers at their neighbors in a sense of panic, if everyone was on alert, it would make flushing the snake out even easier.
Anastasia wrapped things up and then, with a single nod to me, as if I was the only one important enough for her time, she headed off to her chauffeured town car, idling at the curb for her. A small, excited round of applause came from off to the side, but I couldn’t see who it was through the crowd.
“Gosh, she’s so glamorous.” Goldie sighed, watching her drive away before turning to me with wide-eyed panic. “Not that I was looking or anything.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes at her. “You could be wearing a blindfold, and you would still get caught looking at other women. But it’s fine, I’m confident enough to know you’re still coming home to me every night.”
“Well, she would, in theory,” Jasper cut in as he, Thomas, Elliot, and Travis made their way to us. At some point, the Hayes’s kids joined, Emmie and Toby hanging out on the steps near their dads. “But she’s been so preoccupied that there are no less than three dozen different flavors of muffins and croissants to make up for the charity tournament in two days, so—” he trailed off.
Oh yeah, I’d almost forgotten about that whole thing.
“Ugh,” Goldie groaned with a good-hearted sigh, “I suppose I can come out of my lair now that I know everything is back to normal again.”
“Thank God, too,” Jasper fanned himself dramatically. “I’m tired of being a boss babe. I just want to go back to being a bossy babe.”
I cackled and Tanner scoffed at his ridiculousness, but we all sobered up as my Chief made his way down the steps to us.
I had never particularly loved the dynamic between Chief Tolbert and myself, but I respected it. Chain of command was king in our world, and regardless of what I thought of him personally, he was a good chief.
But still, since the whole thing happened, and he sat by, watching silently if not even helping the police chief to arrest me over crimes he should have known I’d never do, the connection was frayed.
Cold even.
“Dalton,” he said, making his own space in the group, acknowledging Elliot and Thomas before looking me straight in the eye. “I’m glad this whole criminal drama has been laid to rest.” There was something about the words he used to describe the single worst experience of my life that set me on edge. “But we have other business to go over.”
“Okay,” I said, fighting the urge to scowl at the man. I was supposed to be on duty in less than twelve hours, and I couldn’t start off on the wrong foot.
“Your reinstatement is still pending. Until further notice, you’re still on administrative leave, without pay.”
“What?” I asked, shaking my head in disbelief as my ears rang. “But I was cleared. Exonerated completely.”
“I understand.” He said, almost flippantly. “But the legal system has no bearings over our in-house procedures and protocols. And we’re still investigating.”
“Investigating what, exactly?” Tanner barked. “The judge said there was no evidence. The call logs prove she was nowhere near the locations of the crimes.”
“We’re working through that.” Tolbert said, eyeing Tanner up as if he didn’t like being questioned by a cop. God, that cross-departmental hate ran thick with him. “And we will come to our own conclusion.”
“Jesus Christ.” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll never actually be good enough for you, will I?”
Shocked silence fell around us. I shouldn’t have said it, but I couldn’t stay quiet any longer either.
Tolbert wasn’t done with me yet, and with a look of indignation, he put the final nail in my coffin. “Out of respect for public perception, you will not be allowed to participate in the upcoming charity hockey tournament either. People donated too much money to the event to worry about who is involved in their charity.”
The gut punch hit hard, and tears burned behind my eyes, which I refused to let fall.
I wasn’t a criminal. I wasn’t going to jail. But I was still excluded.
I was still not good enough to be an equal.
And that hurt even more.
A million quick jabs, and furious retorts flashed through my head at a thousand miles a second. I wanted to lash out and scream and cry about the injustice of it all, but I couldn’t.