Page 20 of What Hurts Us

Angrily,I dumped the contents of my dresser drawers into a suitcase. With a swipe of my arm, I unloaded my bathroom counter-full of skincare products into a duffel bag. I stripped my bed and squashed the linens back into the clear plastic comforter bag.

After changing into real clothes and opening every single window and door in my unit, I’d spent the last hour on the phone, calling around to everyone I knew in town, asking if they had a couch I could crash on.

But I was out of options. My aunt’s bed and breakfast was booked to capacity. When I told Khale joon what had happened, she insisted that she’d kick everyone out as soon as we hung up. I couldn’t let her do that. She’d lose so much money and would get railed on Yelp.

My next call was to AB to see if I could crash with her. But she had a houseful of extended family staying with her for the week. Lauren had popped in and apologized, saying she would have offered her place, but she and her boyfriend had just moved in together and were still unpacking and settling in. My attempt to get a hold of Shane went to voicemail. He was probably on a call and wasn’t able to get to his phone.

It was move-in weekend for the plethora of colleges and universities in the Piedmont region of North Carolina, which meant every hotel from Roxboro to Fuquay-Varina was booked solid.

My last resort was calling my parents and running home with my tail between my legs.

But even I wasn’t that desperate. I’d rather sleep at the AirCare base for a week with tones dropping at all hours of the night than be smothered by my family with reasons as to why I should just move home.

It was a sobering thought that all my belongings could be packed in under ninety minutes and stuffed into my car. I liked it, but was it really alifeif I could disappear without a trace?

Lauren helped me carry the last of my bags out of the tiny apartment. I shifted the tacklebox of crafting supplies in my arms. My neck prickled with the feeling of being watched. I looked out of the corner of my eye and caught Callum staring at me as he typed calmly on the laptop that was wedged into the front of his police car. In the back, the woman in handcuffs was squalling like a feral cat.

“I thought he would be on medical leave,” I said to Lauren. “I’ve seen compound fractures like his more than a few times. They don’t heal that fast.”

“Technically, he’s supposed to be riding a desk for a few months,” Lauren said as we filled my trunk. “But the department is short-staffed. Chief has him going out on non-emergency calls.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A meth lab bust is a non-emergency call?”

She shrugged. “Who knows? It’s Falls Creek.”

As if ‘it’s Falls Creek’ was the explanation for everything.

“I’m just a rookie. I’m more surprised that they letmetag along than him. I guess it wasthe more, the merrier.” Resting her hands on her hips, she asked, “Have you found a place to go?”

“I think so. I was going to crash at the base until I figured something out, but my aunt just texted me and said a friend of a friend of hers runs a motel on the other side of town. They had a cancellation a little bit ago and said they’d hold the room for me.” I rolled my head to the side, cracking my neck. “I’m going to sleep this bullshit off and look for a new apartment tomorrow.”

8

CALLUM

Leverage.

It wasn’t blackmail. It wasn’t manipulation. Nothing nefarious. That drug bust at the string of side-by-side apartments where Layla Mousavi lived had simply given meleverage. What would’ve been an insane ask over a drink would now bequid pro quo.

I was solving a problem, not taking advantage of her.

I reminded myself of that as I pulled into the parking lot of the Fountain Motel.

The stench of cigarette smoke and industrial cleaner wafted out from an open motel room door as housekeeping changed the bedding. Classy.

I shut the door to my car and wiggled my leg, a strange habit I’d picked up after getting the cast off. It was like I had to remind my body that it was mobile after being sedentary for weeks. My physical therapist was a sadist, but I appreciated her aggressive approach to getting me back on my feet.Literally.

The dull throb radiated from my shin, settling in my knee and ankle as I crossed the gravel lot speckled with empty airplane bottles and condom wrappers. The neon sign in the office window was probably supposed to say ‘no vacancy’, but it was nearing the end of its earthly service and was down to simply, “No.”

I guess that kept it simple.

I tapped the rolling plexiglass window with my knuckle.

“Yeah,” Janet clipped as she shoved the window back, never taking her eyes off the soap opera playing out on the analog television. The antennas took up most of the closet they referred to as an office. “Whaddaya want?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me which room Layla Mousavi was staying in.” I wasn’t in uniform, but the duty voice came naturally when I was making a request that could easily be turned down.

Janet peered up at me. “Cal Fletcher,” she drew out, testing each syllable. She reached over and smacked the TV. It turned off without her even having to touch the remote or the dial knobs.

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