The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3)(6)

*



I drove by my place and winced as I took in the five police vans and swarms of cops in white coveralls standing on my front driveway. Those guys didn’t fuck around.

I drove to Dewey’s and, unsure what to do next, I called Ryan.

“Ryan here.”

“Ryan, it’s Mica.”

“What’s up, man?”

“Could we talk?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“No, in person.”

“When?”

“Right now.”

His voice changed. “You okay?”

“I fucked up.” I looked around the bar.

“How bad?”

“Real bad.”

Concern clouded his voice. “Where are you?”

“At Dewey’s Pub.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Thanks.”

I ordered a water and debated my options. This is exactly what Andrusha had been trying to prevent. He knew that if anyone got wind that I associated with him, it could damage my career. Standing with Mark Ashford before being led away by three detectives was more than damaging. I didn’t even want to think about how Ashford would react.

I wondered what happened to Andrusha, but I knew better than to call him. When he had a chance, he’d contact me.

My phone rang.

“Krista.”

“Where the fuck are you?” Her shrill voice punctured my eardrum.

“Why?”

“I’m at the central police station with Mark Ashford’s lawyers, and they said you left.”

“They let me walk.”

“Where are you?”

“Meeting Ryan at Dewey’s.”

“Why are you drinking at a bar? Mica, this is serious. We have to get in front of this.”

“The police had a search warrant for my home. They won’t let me in.”

“Fucking hell.” Moments ticked by while Krista thought her way through this. “I’m putting the lawyers on this. Meet me at your place.”

She hung up on me before I could respond.

I dialed Ryan’s phone.

“Ryan here.”

“Buddy, I’m sorry to do this to you, but I will need to catch up with you later.”

He sounded concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I need to meet up with Krista.”

One reason I loved Ryan was he took everything at face value. “That’s cool. Call me if you need me.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

I felt like hell. I was still wearing my tuxedo, and all I wanted to do was have a shower and crawl into bed.





*



When I pulled up to my place, there was only one van left. I parked on the street and strolled up the driveway.

“Can I get in?” I spoke to a guy wearing a white paper jumpsuit.

“We’re just finishing up now.” He pulled his white hoodie off his head. “Give us a few.”

I watched as two more guys carried out brown paper bags of evidence and loaded them into the back of the van.

“You can enter your premises now,” the man said, as he marked something off on a clipboard.

I stepped inside the front door.

“Holy shit,” I breathed as I looked around the place. It looked like a tornado had hit. They had pulled every item of food out of my cupboards. Dried pasta, flour, sugar, coffee, rice bags had been sliced open and dumped without ceremony onto the counters. It looked like they had cleared out the fridge, dumping most of the food in the sink.

Behind me, in the living room, they had slit every pillow and every couch cushion open with a knife and pulled out the stuffing. A foot of white fluff now covered the floor of the room. They had taken every painting off the wall, flipped them around and sliced the backs open. Black powder smudges showed how they had tried to lift fingerprints.

I walked down the hallway towards my bedroom. They had pulled every single item of clothing out of my closet and dumped it in piles on the floor. In my bathroom, they had squeezed my toothpaste into the sink, and a pile of shaving cream billowed like a soft cloud on the top of my counter.

I swallowed the bile that rose in the back of my throat. Anger flowed through my veins. I felt violated, and that made me want to rage. I wanted to hit. I wanted to maim and destroy.

“Mica?” Krista called.

It took me a moment, but I swallowed all those emotions down until nothing remained on the surface. Off the ice, emotion control was something I specialized in. The only place where I let myself act on my emotions was the rink.

I walked back out to the kitchen. The second time I saw my kitchen was no less shocking than the first time.

“Holy fucking hell.” Krista’s eyes were wide as she looked around. Charlie stood behind her, holding a pile of files. Her face was white and her expression filled with sadness as she looked around.

“Welcome, ladies.” I smiled, acting like I didn’t give a shit. “Anyone need a drink?”

Two sets of shocked eyes turned towards me. I stepped over a barstool that lay on its side and pulled open my freezer drawer. To my surprise, the cops had left the unopened vodka bottle alone.

I lifted it up. “Surprised they didn’t dump this out of spite.”