Chapter Fifteen
Two weeks later
"I don't have anything against Captain Lavelle; I'm just glad that Captain Renard's back. That means things can start going back to normal around here."
Hank smirked at Nick from his desk, eyes taking in the dwindling pile of folders on Nick's desk. "You're just saying that because Lavelle's idea of punishing you for going off on your own to confront Matthew actually worked."
Nick scowled. "I was already on suspension. Why did I have to spend it filling out every requisition form, interview transcript, and backlogged report in the entire precinct?"
"Because Lavelle believes that punishments should be more productive?" Hank suggested. "I mean, he could have just left you to your own devices, but that's how we ended up with you going off after Matthew on your own. At least this way he could keep an eye on you."
"I still say it's overkill," Nick griped. "At least I'll be done with the last of them today."
"Until you pull another stupid stunt," Hank said. "I'm pretty sure the captain liked Lavelle's idea."
Nick glared at Hank, who merely laughed.
The door to the captain's office opened, and Renard stepped into view. His eyes locked with Nick's.
"Detective Burkhardt, a word please?" he asked before stepping back into his office.
"What could you have possibly done now?" Hank asked. "You've been sitting at your desk all morning."
"Only one way to find out." Standing, Nick obediently headed into Renard's office. He closed the door softly behind him.
Renard nodded in greeting as he moved around his desk. He gestured to the chairs opposite him. "Please have a seat, Nick."
Nick registered the informal address and immediately tensed up.
Renard, of course, picked up on his reaction instantly. "You're not in trouble, but I have some bad news to impart."
Nick moved to sit down. "This bond thing is still taking some getting used to."
Over the past two weeks, Nick hadn't noticed any changes in himself other than an occasional extra rush of strength and energy when training with Monroe or wounds healing more quickly than normal. The last few days, however, had brought with them a strange awareness of emotions that didn't entirely belong to Nick. It had taken Nick a full day and a check-in from Frank Rabe to realize that the emotions, muted as they were, belonged to Renard.
"It's the proximity," Renard told him, also sitting down. "It's easier to connect at closer distances. You'll get used to it."
Nick tried to relax in his chair but found that he couldn't.
Renard met his eyes placidly, but Nick had the oddest sense of compassion and regret wrapping around him.
"Matthew Becker was found dead in his cell this morning from an apparent suicide," Renard stated.
A rushing sound filled his ears as Nick's brain came to a screeching halt. Sorrow, regret, anger, and more cascaded through him.
"Wh-What?" he stammered.
"The guards were collecting the prisoners for breakfast," Renard told him. "They found him hanging by his bedsheets in his cell."
Nick leaned forward, his hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that they creaked in protest. "I . . . he wouldn't . . ."
Renard nodded. "I'm . . . sorry that it ended this way."
Anger blazed in Nick's eyes. "Someone killed him."
"Yes," Renard agreed.
That doused some of Nick's anger. "Who?"
Renard held his gaze for a long moment. "He failed to meet the terms of his contract. There was only one outcome for him."
Nick fell back against his chair with the weight of Renard's words. "Could it have been avoided?" he asked.
"Could we have kept it from happening?" Renard clarified. "Delayed it, perhaps. But he was also being held on multiple counts of murder. Death was always going to come for him, either by the courts or by the Families."
Silence fell between them as Nick absorbed his new reality. Renard waited patiently, in no rush to force Nick to speak before he was ready.
After several long moments, Nick heaved a large sigh and dragged a hand through his hair. "I guess . . . I guess that's it, then."
Sympathy edged into Renard's face. "If you need to take a few days . . ."
Nick shook his head. "No, sir. I'm . . . I'll be fine."
Renard nodded. "If you change your mind, let me know."
Nick nodded back and stood. He headed for the door but paused, one hand on the knob. He glanced back at Renard who was watching him.
"Sir . . . I probably don't need . . ." Nick took another breath. "About my resignation . . ."
Renard's lips quirked up ever-so-slightly. "What resignation?"
Nick couldn't help but smile. "Right."
Exiting Renard's office, he returned to his desk just as Hank hung up his phone and rose to his feet.
"Got a new case," he stated, taking his gun out of his desk drawer and sliding it into his holster. "Double homicide near the marina. Unis at the scene report some weird punctures all over the bodies. Feel like taking a look?"
Nick retrieved his weapon and his coat, then joined his partner as they strode for the exit. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Hank gave him a side-eyed look. "Think you can stay close, or do I need to bring a leash?"
Nick swatted Hank in response.
THE END
