Page 61 of Nora
Ben pulled out a notebook and flipped through a couple of pages. “Sixty-one,” he answered.
“And what is her tie to the Catholic Church?” Nora asked.
Ben drew back, then narrowed his eyes at her. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
“Can you answer?”
He looked about to argue, but after a beat, he answered. “Her family owned huge swaths of land around here. I don’t know if she was particularly religious, although I’d wager she was at least nominally so,” he added, gesturing to the cross. “Generations ago, her family donated the land the monastery was built on, as well as the land for the Catholic cemetery. Now, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
She wasn’t required to share anything with him, but she wanted to. His superiors might have ordered him to cooperate, but he seemed like a good guy and a decent detective. She felt she owed him the professional courtesy. Franklin and NATO might not be happy with her, but if they didn’t trust her, then they shouldn’t have asked her to step in.
“It’s a long story. Is there somewhere we can go?” she asked. It was now past two in the morning, and she doubted either she or Lucian were going to get any sleep. It wouldn’t be the first all-nighter she’d pulled, but hopefully, they could find some coffee to help her through.
Slowly, Ben nodded. “We can go to the station, or we can go to my place. I live about fifteen minutes away.”
“Your place, if you don’t mind?”
He shook his head. “My kids are with their grandparents tonight; the house is empty.”
She nodded and together, they exited the house and walked to the cars. Ben rattled off his address to Lucian, and a few minutes later they were on their way.
“Talk to me, Nora,” Lucian said.
“There’s not much to say, Lucian. One more person is dead. I didn’t stop it. And I sent you out to catch a killer on your own. All in all, I’ve made some pretty crappy decisions tonight.”
“You sent me because you trusted me to do the job. That wasn’t a crappy decision. That’s the most faith anyone has put in me in a long time.”
She looked at him, unsure what to say to that.
He gave a half shrug and a rueful smile. “I’ve pushed my family away more than I intended to in the last few years. It started with small things—missing an anniversary celebration, then a family dinner at my grandmother’s. It grew to bigger things over time—not answering calls or talking to them. It was never about them. It was me. I just didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to answer any questions or have to pretend I cared about things that I should care about but didn’t. I…” He paused, maybe looking for the right words or maybe deciding if he should be saying anything at all. Then on an exhale, he continued. “I think I was depressed,” he said. She held her silence, waiting for him to say more. After a minute, he did. “I don’t think it was—is—clinical depression, but I suppose there are probably gradients of it? I feel different now than I did three weeks ago, and I think that’s because of you.”
Her eyebrows went up at that.
“I don’t know what that means, it’s just that, for the first time in a long time, I want to talk to someone. I want to talk to you. Even spending time with the participants feels a lot easier now. I’m not magically going to turn back into that carefree kid you knew. But something in the last few weeks has broken loose and I’minterestedin life again. Knowing you trusted me to go after the man in the woods…it felt…good. Like I was a whole person again. Someone people could count on. You might see it as a bad decision, but I definitely do not,” he finished, his voice a low rumble over the hum of the engine.
“I didn’t know,” Nora replied. “Is that why you were so upset when I showed up? You thought your family didn’t trust you enough to…what? Get through the session? Be human enough to work in a group of people?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “The thought did cross my mind, yes. Although in hindsight, it was probably my own guilt, my own insecurities coming through. I don’t really believe my family thinks I’m a lost cause—”
“They wouldneverthink that!” she interrupted, making him smile.
“I know,” he said, softly. “But it’s easier to be mad at other people than to look at your own behavior. I was already feeling guilty because I knew, in the parts of my mind I didn’t want to acknowledge, that I had turned into a man I didn’t much like. Don’t get me wrong,” he said with a smile, “I’m still not a huge fan of most people. But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the good ones. Or the good things in life, like a beautiful sunset or a nice glass of wine. So, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole. It was all about me and nothing to do with you. And thank you. Like I said, you might believe it wasn’t a good decision, but I’m glad you made it. I’m glad you didn’t hesitate to trust me. Even though I didn’t end up catching him.”
She had questions about what, if anything, had happened in the woods, but she’d wait until they were with Ben. In the meantime, she reached over and took his hand. It was an intimate gesture. She wasn’t sure if she should cross that bridge, but a part of her wouldn’t let her do anything else. She wanted that connection to him. When his fingers curled over hers and his shoulders relaxed, she knew he wanted it, too. Any consequences that might follow, she would deal with later.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
It wasfour o’clock in the morning when she and Lucian stumbled back into the residence hall. The session wouldn’t start until nine; if she fell asleep right away, she might be able to eke out four hours of sleep. Which sounded heavenly. Especially after the grilling Ben Miller put her and Lucian through. She didn’t blame him. He was going to have one more murder on his hands if they didn’t stop the killer, and no one wanted that. She probably should have ignored Franklin’s edict earlier on and told him everything. After all, like Joe, he was trained in these kinds of investigations.
“Stop second-guessing yourself,” Lucian said, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Ingrid or James as they walked to their rooms. They were on the opposite end of the building, but they might be light sleepers.
“I’m not,” she said, pulling out her key.
“You are,” he said.
She huffed. “Fine, I am,” she conceded. “And I will likely continue doing so until this thing is over. If I’d talked to Ben earlier, could we have prevented tonight’s murder? Would he have had some idea or some lead that could have helped?”
“Stop,” Lucian said.
