All Fall Down by Erica Spindler Page B

he really hurts you.”

12
    M elanie stayed with her sister until dawn. After straightening up the house, they curled up together on the king-size bed, sipping Irish creams and remembering the good times from their childhood, recalling friends they had known and fun places they had lived. Before long, Mia had nodded off.
    Even after her sister had been soundly asleep, Melanie had agonized over leaving her. But she’d been forced to. It had been obvious Boyd wasn’t going to return and she had hoped to get in an hour of shut-eye before having to get ready for work. Instead, she had lain awake, staring at the ceiling and worrying about her sister.
    Though reassured by Mia’s promise to leave her husband, Melanie wasn’t optimistic she would keep her word. It wasn’t uncommon for women caught in abusive relationships to marshal their personal reserves during a crisis, only to crumble as soon as the crisis passed. Or the man apologized and promised to do better.
    Boyd had to be held accountable, Melanie had decided as she stood under the shower’s stinging spray. He had to know his behavior was being monitored andthat it wouldn’t be tolerated. She wanted him to know that she wouldn’t tolerate it.
    She had a plan.
    â€œMorning, Bobby,” she called to her partner as she arrived at headquarters later that morning.
    â€œMorning, Mel.” Her eternally youthful partner looked up from the sports section of the Charlotte Observer, and his eyebrows shot up. “Looking good today, Mel-babe. Up all night with a sick kid?”
    â€œIn a way.” She dropped her purse beside her desk and headed for the coffeepot.
    He unfolded his lanky frame, grabbed his empty cup and followed her. He held out the cup, then frowned. “Wait a minute, I thought Casey was in Orlando with his dad.”
    â€œHe is. Different kid.” She filled him in on how she had spent the previous evening, though she didn’t elaborate on her sister’s troubles. “I thought we might pay the good doctor an unofficial official call.”
    Bobby grinned. “And shake him up a bit.”
    â€œYou got it.”
    â€œI’m in.”
    Melanie added powdered creamer to her coffee and sipped. “Anything big happen overnight?”
    â€œNot unless you call the high school being rolled big.” He grinned. “Oh, and old Mrs. Grady reported a masked bandit in her trash again.”
    Melanie rolled her eyes. Her brush with real detective work had made WPD business-as-usual seem more pointless than it had before. “Raccoon?”
    â€œIrritating little bastards, aren’t they? She demanded immediate action.”
    â€œPoor Will.” Melanie imagined pudgy, baby-faced Will Pepperman, the officer in charge of the night shift, dispatching a cruiser to the scene of the crime. No doubt he had gotten an earful from the lucky patrolman who had answered that call. Better him, though, than Mrs. Grady. Shrill would be a kind way to describe her voice.
    They crossed to Bobby’s desk and she perched on the corner. “How about the phone banks? Anything come in?”
    â€œAnything promising? No. Anything at all? Yes.” He handed her a printout. Melanie skimmed her gaze down the pages, a ball of frustration forming in the pit of her gut. “There must be a hundred calls here.”
    â€œA hundred and twelve. But who’s counting?”
    She made a sound of resignation. “Top or bottom?” she asked, referring to which half of the list he wanted.
    â€œSorry to ruin your day, but what you’re holding is the top half of the list.” She groaned and he made a sound of sympathy. “It does suck, doesn’t it?”
    â€œRoyally.” She met his eyes, wondering not for the first time how her partner remained so upbeat about the job. She decided to ask him. “You’ve been with the WPD ten years, how do you not let all this inconsequential…