Page 27 of Hack
CHAPTER TWELVE
Carter flipped through the channels on his TV, wondering why he bothered paying for all of them when he was never home to watch them. Even now, as he tried to find something that caught his interest, he found nothing. It was a bunch of daytime shows or Hallmark shit that he couldn't stand. Even the channels that were usually geared to carry more action and adventure seemed to be on the warm and fuzzy side today. He sighed, turning off the TV and just laid on the couch, staring up at the ceiling of his seldom-used den.
When he'd bought the house, he thought the room would be the one place he'd use the most, but then he'd gotten so caught up in working with STK that the team was all he focused on. He came home to sleep, and if he did spend more than a few hours in the house, he always ended up in his office, working on cases from home instead of enjoying his den like he thought he would.
He thought back to a simpler time, back right after he'd gotten married and they'd had Angel. Back then, time at home was all he wanted, spending the evenings with his wife and daughter. They'd enjoyed TV back then, each of them having shows they liked to watch, a weekly schedule that they'd follow, with them all sitting together in the living room, passing the time together without saying much to one another. They didn't need the words, just being together was enough. God, how he'd taken all that for granted. What he wouldn't give for just one more night with them.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. This is why he worked so much. When he wasn't working and focusing on someone else's problem, he got caught up in memories of his own, and that wasn't good. It was painful, and without meaning to, he'd get lost in his past, which always started a downhill spiral of what ifs. What if Angel had never been taken, what if his wife hadn't taken her life, what if he still had them both in his life, what if he'd protected them better.
"Fuck." He sat up and pushed off the couch, trying not to go down the path his brain was taking him. It was better to focus on the present, focus on those who he could still help. There were thousands of people out there he could still save. There was no point in concentrating on those he'd already let down.
He headed to the kitchen, pausing in the doorway of the living room, and looking over the stacks of files that Archer had brought with him. He'd read through most of them now, finding only a little he hadn't already known, but anything new was a good thing.
Archer had seriously worked to gather everything he could, covering every angle and lead. It was impressive, and he liked that there was someone else out there who was obsessing over the case as much as he was. It probably wasn't a healthy obsession, especially for him, but it wasn't like he could just let it go.
He often wondered what it would be like if Lyle was brought to justice. What would it be like not to go to sleep and wake up each day with vengeance being the first and last thing on your mind? Would killing Lyle bring him any closure, make the pain of losing his wife and daughter any easier to deal with? Probably not.
He wasn't foolish enough to think that the pain would ever ease. It was something he was going to have to live with, no matter what justice was found or vengeance he got to serve.
Needing to keep his mind off the case so he didn't walk in and pick up any more files to read through, he turned to the kitchen, then took out his phone and called Trenton to check in. They had the big sting tomorrow night, and he should be there at the STK house helping them plan, but he just couldn't bring himself to go in.
Once he'd caught up on all the new information, and let Trenton know that he wasn't going to be in at all today, he set his phone on the kitchen counter and wondered what to do. He could go for another nap, but he was afraid if he did, he wouldn't sleep at all tonight. His headache was nearly gone, just a residual ache up the side of his neck as if his body and brain were bruised. The time off the computer was helping, his shoulder easing up, though he still felt the weight of the muscles tension when he moved. Nothing he wasn't used to, but something he didn't need to get worse.
The sound of the front door opening had him glancing toward it, and he smiled, seeing Archer walk in, several grocery bags in his hands.
"Do you need help?" Carter asked.
"Nope, this is it. I just grabbed some stuff for dinner tonight. Figured it was easier to pick it up while I was out instead of us both having to go out again later." Archer set the bags on the kitchen counter. "You get any rest?"
"Yeah, I went back to bed for a bit, then vegged on the couch for a few hours trying to find something that was worthwhile on TV." Carter watched as Archer started emptying the bags, excited to see what looked like the supplies to make some kind of Mexican food.
"How'd that go for you?" Archer smirked.
"Like shit. There's nothing but junk on TV anymore. I couldn't even find a good rerun."
"Yeah, I gave up TV a long time ago. If I turn it on now, it's just for the background noise."
Carter nodded to the tortillas on the counter. "What are you making us tonight?"
"I was craving enchiladas. You like Mexican, don't you?"
"I love it, but suck at making it."
"I can teach you, it's easy. My mother made sure she taught me how to make all the authentic foods when I was little. She said she had to pass the recipes down, and since she didn't have a daughter to share them with, I was the lucky one to have to learn them all. I didn't mind. I enjoy cooking when I manage to take the time to do it."
"I'm not a great cook, but I can feed myself. Working the odd hours I do, I live on a lot of take-out. There just isn't time to cook. I couldn't tell you the last time my kitchen has been used like it has this week. Like I said, the neighbors have to be wondering what is going on with the sudden surge of activity here. There are weeks where I don't bother coming home at all."
"How long have you been doing whatever you do?" Archer pulled a pitcher of iced tea out of the fridge and poured a glass. "Want one?"
"Nah, thanks. I've been doing my job since I left the CIA years ago. It wasn't always such an all-encompassing part of my life, but it's always demanded a lot of time. We work out of an old house, so there are bedrooms on site. I usually just sleep there. No reason to drive home when I'm just going to get up and start working again."
"You know that saying about all work and no play." Archer raised a brow.
"I could probably say the same thing to you. You said you didn't get home much."
"I don't, but at least my work changes. One minute I'm hunting for a missing person, the next I'm spying on a cheating spouse. It's never the same, and I never know what's going to happen next."
"The people my team helps need us, and it's worth the hours we put in to get it done, besides, it keeps me from focusing on what I can't change and those I failed to save." Carter stared down at the counter.
