Page 61 of Logan
“Oh my god,” she says. “In my apartment?”
He nods sagely and the cop turns to look at her, pen and pad in hand. “I’m gonna have to ask you a few questions and with your permission, allow us to collect any evidence like fingerprints, footprints, or other trace evidence that might help us investigate further.”
Payden’s hands fly up to cup her face. This isn’t what she needs right now, but I’m on high alert.
I send a text to Cash, Harlem and Tag, letting them know Payden’s apartment was broken into. This is no coincidence.
I glance around, suddenly hyper aware of everything around me.
“Okay, how long will that take?” she asks with a shaky voice.
“It shouldn’t take too long, but if you give us some time, it’ll help with forensics if we can do a clean sweep.”
She hugs herself and I want nothing more than to fold her into my arms and hold her tight.
Payden doesn’t need this today of all days, she’s been through enough.
I touch her elbow gently and she jumps. I frown. “Why don’t we go see Willow, then come back and sort things out?”
“I-I want to know how they got in,” she stammers. “And, oh shit, my roommate!”
Fuck. Nova.
“Nobody was in the apartment at the time of the break in, but from the surveillance footage, it looks like they had a fob and a key,” the cop says.
Payden’s eyes bulge. “Holy shit. I lost one of my door keys a few weeks ago?—”
“Lost?” I say, my tone darkening. “When and where?”
“At the gym. I assumed it must’ve fallen off.” I can see the cogs turning.
“And the fob?”
“I don’t know. I still have mine on my keys. We need to check Nova is okay.”
“She’s on the way to the clubhouse, she was with Sawyer,” I say, having heard from him just as we were leaving.
“This is fucked,” she says, folding her arms over her chest. “Can I have any more hits today? Why is the fucking universe crapping all over me?”
I see the torment in her eyes and I turn to the two men next to us. “There was an incident downtown at Payden’s office,” I tell them. “You may have heard.”
“Oh, yeah, the shooting at the lawyer firm?” the concierge says, his tone lowering. “I didn’t even connect it, Miss Benedict, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thank you, Danny, but some of my colleagues…” she trails off as she wipes angry tears.
“Give us a moment,” I say, pulling her away.
We move so they’re out of earshot and I say, “This is too much.”
“Really? Because I don’t think it is,” she says, snatching her arm from my hold. “I think the universe is punishing me, that’s what I think, because I survived that shooting and other people died. They died, Logan!”
Angry tears stream down her face and I pull her into my chest. She tries to fight, but after a few moments she starts to sob. Not just silent, whimpering cries, but heartfelt, racking sobs that tear at my insides.
I want to make it better. I want to take her pain away. I don’t want her to suffer like this.
I kiss her hair, soothing her. “I know, honey. Let it out, let it all out.”
“It’s not f-fair! D-Deidre had a family!” she barely gets the words out between choking whimpers.
