Page 202 of Into These Eyes
Now, after a second false media report—my death—those involved in the fire haven’t been quite so careful with their phone conversations.
“Jamie?” Pete tries again. Before he can continue, his phone rings. “Yeah … Yeah, send her in.” He looks at me, his face grim. “Your sister.”
I haven’t seen her yet, but I’d filled her in over the phone, making it clear that I was safe, that it was Gavin who she needed to be with. So she should be here.
A moment later, the door unlocks, and a heavily armed officer shows Anika in. As soon as she spots me, she bursts into tears and runs at me, grabbing me in a bear hug.
“I fucked up,” she cries. “I fucked up, Jamie. I’m sorry.”
I hug her tight, fear blooming in my chest. “Gavin?”
She nods, then quickly adds, “He’s okay. I just … I’m … I’m so fucking stupid.”
Ignoring Pete’s questioning gaze, I wrap an arm around my sister and lead her over to the uncomfortable couch. Holding her tight, I wait until she calms down. Finally, she looks at me with haunted eyes that do nothing to calmme.
“He … he hadn’t woken up yet, and I thought … I’d just go to the loo and get a coffee. A few minutes, that’s all.”
Her lip trembles as she swallows hard, trying to stay in control. I’ve never seen her this upset before, and it scares me to death. “Okay,” I encourage. “So, you went to get coffee …”
“And when I came back, he was on the floor … bleeding … he’d turned on the TV and seen the news … he thought—”
She bursts into tears again. I cradle her head to my chest. She doesn’t have to say more. If he saw the news, there was only one thing hecouldthink.
“I had one job,” she cries, “and I fucked it up so bad.”
I hold her closer, half to comfort her and half to comfort myself. I’d told her on the phone that I needed her to be withGavin so when he woke up, she could tell him what was going on before he saw or heard something he shouldn’t. “But you said he was okay.”
She pulls back, swiping at her face with her sleeve. “Yes and no.”
“Ank. What does that mean?” My heart doesn’t know whether to stop or burst through my chest.
“He ripped his stitches open. They’ve fixed that up. But … I’ve never seen someone look like … like all the life had drained from him. It fucking crushed me, Jamie. And it was all my fault.”
I place my hands firmly on her upper arms and squeeze. “Now, you listen to me. It’s not your fault. It’s Jarrod’s fault. Not—”
“It’s my fault,” Pete says from beside us.
We both look up at his desolate face. It’d be really fucking nice to blame someone. Someone who wasn’t dead. Someone I haven’t killed. Over the last gruelling hours, I’ve discovered blaming the dead isn’t as satisfying as I’d like.
Pete runs a hand over his face and takes a deep breath. “Because I should have trusted our friendship and … told you more.”
“Yes,” I say without blinking, “you should have. But rules are rules, right?” I ask bitterly.
He nods, his eyes downcast, remorse rolling off him in waves. When I’d tried to discuss it with him earlier, he was stoic on his reasoning and unapologetic. Seeing Anika’s distress—distress I’ve buried—has clearly affected him.
After a moment, he meets my eyes. “I am truly sorry, Jamie. My judgement was clouded. I wanted them all to go down so badly, I couldn’t risk screwing it up. It should’ve been me in that surveillance car watching your house Christmas night, not a couple of jerks who thought it’d be a smart idea to sneak home to their families instead of doing their job. I’m a shit friend.”
“Yeah, well. I’ll be the judge of that. Just not right now.” I know it’s harsh, I know it’s not what he wants to hear. I also know I’ll forgive him. But I’m so fucking furious, I feel no guilt in letting me suffer a little longer.
I don’t want my sister to suffer, though. Taking her hands in mine, I look into her eyes and tell her again. “See? It’s not your fault. You get that, right?”
She hesitates as a few more tears slip from her eyes. I squeeze her hands and nod. After a moment, she gives me the tiniest of nods in return. “I don’t think he’s really going to believe you’re okay until he sees you.” She glances up at Pete. “How much longer?”
“Everyone’s almost in position,” Pete says, running a weary hand over his face.
“Must be killing you, to be babysitting me instead of out there, making the arrests yourself.” I now know how much work has gone into this operation. It’s Pete’s baby, his last case before he retires.
“Here is exactly where I should be. My team’s more than capable.”
