Page 38 of Dead Man's Wish
“I’ll pick a date. I love you, B.” She blew a kiss into the receiver.
“I love you, too, M.” I laughed, hanging up the phone and looking at the box of mess. This one was far less organized than the others.
“Baby,” Jaiden sang, knocking on my door. He stood in the doorway with his full riding gear on and helmet in his hand. Despite his chipper greeting, worry knitted his brows.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to leave you alone.” He looked down at the shiny visor and peeked under his lashes at me. I laughed at the shyness of his admission.
“I’m hardly alone, sweet boy.” I stood up, closing the distance and welcoming his embrace—even if it was leather-clad and a bit stiff. “Officers are here around the clock at every entrance and the windows are bolted,” I reminded him. His hand skimmed my back and down my shorts.
“I know.”
“Besides, I’ll text our group chat all night and keep everyone updated.” His hand slipped under the terrycloth material. “Nope, you’re going out with Kel tonight.” The grown man pouted.
“You sure?”
“I don’t think this guy gets provoked like Brent did. Different psychology, different motivations. His reactionary behavior is drastically different. He didn’t care about the cemetery or that I degraded his idol. In fact, it’s been quiet as far as I’m aware.” I ran my hands up his chest. He bent down so that I could scratch through his hair, and I got a whiff of his cologne. Earthy, warm, cozy—he embodied comfort in every way possible.
“Check in with me regularly?” He traced my cheek with his nose.
“Only if you promise that you aren’t texting and riding if you respond.” He held out his pinky, and I wrapped mine around his.
“I love you,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to my lips.
“I love you more.”
“Not possible, Little Swallow.” His hand slid to the nape of my neck and he deepened the kiss. His tongue swept over mine, and if he kept it up, there’d be no riding, no case, and no one else but us.
“Be safe.”
“Only for you.” He kissed my cheek and disappeared down the hall. A pang started in my chest. I didn’t like being without him under normal circumstances. We had a calming effect on each other. Even if we weren’t doing anything together, his nearness soothed my longing.
“Oh, call Kel!” I shouted after him before the front door closed.Oops.
* * *
The clock relayed my frustration.Thirty minutes had passed before I finished laying out the evidence by category and recording their contents. The feeling of defeat was heavy as it sank in that we were so focused on a single person named Nicky that we could’ve been overlooking so much more. As private as Brent had been about his true self, there was going to be something in here to break the case wide open. I’d kick myself harder if Nicky wasn’t a factor.
“I feel you, Bishop,” I vocalized to the empty room, dreading the end of this case. Whatever end it’d come to wouldn’t be satisfactory. It’d played out far too long to feel a sense of peace. The questions ofwhat ifwould remain long after this perpetrator was locked behind bars.
My stomach growled despite me having dinner a few hours earlier. I stood, grabbing a photo album and heading to the kitchen. Setting it on the counter, I popped a frozen dinner in the microwave. As I flipped the pages, waiting for the beep, a wave of depression washed over me.
There was nothing vibrant about his childhood. He hardly smiled in the photos, and the environment was wilted no matter the season. Through the ages, his appearance grew more depressing. Decades-old film couldn’t hide the absence of light in the child’s eyes. All smiles were forced, and not even in the way kids show while they’re still learning how to move their facial muscles on command. Equating a child and something sinister felt wrong, but I couldn’t see anything else.
I thought back to Ms. Hale and how she wished she’d noticed something sooner. I thought she was in denial or disbelief, fully entrusting that he’d grow into decency. A particularly disturbing photo was Brent surround by children at a picnic. On the table in front of him was a spread of watermelons cut into various shapes. Around Brent, kids were gap-toothed and smiling with sticky faces and messy bathing suits. He was just sitting there, staring off at the large butcher knife on the red-and-white checkered tablecloth. He was clean, unsettling tidy in his T-shirt. His hair was smoothed and in place, unlike the others.
It wasn’t a moment I’d have chosen to have immortalized.
The microwave beeped and I jumped at the sound. I looked around, embarrassed to be this scared in my own kitchen.Again.I pulled the cardboard tray off the plate, trying not to burn myself in the process. The serving size was small, and I didn’t bother to take it back to the office. Finishing it off in a few bites, I cleaned the mess and resumed flipping through the pages.
When I made it back, my phone was lighting up—updates from our group chat. Jaiden was on his way, made it there, and then the boys were gone. Mari even offered to come over again, but I eased her anxiety with a selfie of me in front of the mess. After, I shot off a message to Bishop.
Bex: Almost done with the last box. Can I come by tomorrow and get a few more? I noticed there were unread journals. Can you toss those in?
Noah: Consider it done, kiddo.
I yawned, exhaustion settling in after a full stomach. Time had escaped me and the clock flashed nearly midnight. Jaiden would be gone for a couple more hours, riding through the winding roads of the mountains. Lying out on the ground, I pulled the notebook closer and jotted down the oddities I found in the photos. Nothing much, but it was something.Maybe.
