Temptation Trails (The Haven Brothers #3)

“I’m not implying someone tampered on purpose, I—”

“Look, mistakes happen,” he said, cutting me off. “But don’t get too deep into that cold case. I know you want to be the guy who catches a killer, but that doesn’t mean you can get sloppy on smaller cases.”

I wanted to argue that I hadn’t gotten sloppy, but I knew it was better to keep my mouth shut. Especially if he was just going to blow off steam at me, not write me up. So I nodded once.

He nodded in return and walked away.

I let out a frustrated breath. It certainly wasn’t the first time one of my superiors had given me a hard time about something. Sergeant Denny could be a hardass. It was just part of the job.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, like I was being watched. I glanced up and saw Kade standing on the other side of the room, leaning against a pillar with a cup of coffee in his hand. His expression might have seemed neutral—just a guy taking a quick break before going out on assignment again. But even at a distance, I could see the tightening at the corners of his eyes, the slight hitch in his jaw.

He wouldn’t have tampered with something to make me look bad, would he?

That seemed like a stretch. Just because he’d been in a bad mood a lot, didn’t mean he had it in for me.

Pushing Kade out of my mind—he wasn’t my problem—I got up and went outside. I wanted to clear my head, but I also had a call to make, and I didn’t want an audience. Sarge had said the prosecutor’s office had dropped the case. I had a pretty good relationship with Phillip Lancaster, one of the prosecuting attorneys. Maybe he could shed some light on what was going on.

“Lancaster,” he answered.

“Hey, Phillip. Garrett Haven. Got a minute?”

“Sure thing.”

“I just got word about the Trent Jones case being dropped. Seemed pretty open-and-shut. Any idea what happened?”

“Yeah, this is a tough one.” He paused, and his voice was hesitant when he continued. “There were too many things in your report that weren’t accounted for in the evidence room. Started to make it look like you were exaggerating or you’d mishandled things. And forensics found your prints on the car.”

“Mine? I wore gloves the whole time. That’s not possible.”

“I don’t know, that’s above my pay grade. All I know is, a jury would rip the case to shreds. We both know Jones is a problem, and believe me, I want him off the streets as much as you do. But the missing evidence alone is a bad look. Sorry, man. I hate to be the bearer of bad news.”

Fuck. Missing evidence? My prints on the car?

“Look, I have no idea how that happened.”

“Don’t sweat it too much. But if the guys on your end aren’t keeping things buttoned up, there’s only so much I can do.”

“Right. Got it.”

“Just… be careful. You have a good reputation. Don’t want to lose that.”

“No, I don’t.”

“While I have you, how are things going on the Joyner case? Making any progress?”

“Nothing substantial yet. I talked to the victim’s sister. There’s an angle they didn’t pursue. I think the victim might have been targeted before she was taken. Someone might have even broken into her house.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. But don’t worry, I’ll be meticulous with everything. If I have any shot of finding this guy, I’m not going to let any stupid mistakes get in the way.”

“Good. And thanks for following up. I’m always available if you have questions.”

“Thanks, Phillip. Appreciate it.”

I ended the call.

Part of me wanted to throw my phone. Anger simmered in my gut. Mistakes? I didn’t make mistakes. Not like that. It wasn’t just that this made me look bad—which it did—it also kept a criminal on the streets. And a frequent flier like Jones would most likely offend again.