As he takes the packet back from me, I watch him open and flip through the pages until he pauses, gaze scanning the page. He pauses on one name, his gaze hardening. “Lucian Creed?”
“That’s the one I thought you would find particularly interesting,” Jemma comments.
“Wait—” I pause as the name rings about a dozen bells. “As in the Lucian Creed the Justice Department tried to build a case against four years ago? But their witnesses started mysteriously dying in protective custody?”
“One and the same,” Shawn growls.
Jemma looks between me and Shawn. “Maybe you guys shouldn’t go in.”
“I don’t know that we will. But if we do, we’ll be careful.”
Even as badly as I want answers, my stomach churns. Lucian Creed? What was Paul doing in a place where monsters like him frequent?
What did you get into, Paul?
What was he hiding from me? Why?
“Great. Well, don’t die.” Jemma packs up her laptop then stands. “I might need your help with a parking ticket or two.” She grins and holds out her fist. Shawn bumps his to it; then she heads for the door. “See you soon?”
“Yeah. See you then.”
“It was great to meet you, Beckett.”
“You, too,” I reply.
With a smile, Jemma pulls open his front door and leaves, closing it behind her.
“He was a good man,” I say suddenly. I don’t know why the words leave my lips, but Ineededto say them.
“What?”
I turn to Shawn, my throat constricting as I fight back a tidal wave of emotions I’m not quite ready to face. “Paul. He wasn’t a criminal. I know what this looks like, but there has to be more to the story.” Will he stop helping me now that we know Paul had ties to criminals? Will he decide that a criminal doesn’t need justice as badly as an innocent man?
“Beckett, I’m not going to stop,” Shawn replies, clearly seeing the panic I know must be on my face. He sets the packet on the table.
“There has to be more to the story. He couldn’t have hidden that side from me. He was a good man. I mean, we fought, but—” Tears fill my eyes, and I realize that I’m shaking.
What else did he lie to me about?
Did I even know the man I was sharing my life with?
“Beckett, stop. We don’t have all the pieces yet, so stop trying to shove them together. They won’t fit yet.”
“I just—what was he doing, Shawn?” I struggle to breathe as I imagine Paul shaking hands with a man as evil as Lucian Creed. Is that who is in the picture? We can’t see his face, so it could be.
Did he know what he was doing?
Or did he see something he shouldn’t have, and it landed him six feet beneath the cold, hard ground?
“How could he have kept this from me?”
Shawn doesn’t respond right away. But he opens his arms. “Can I?”
Desperate to feel grounded, I move into his arms and rest my head against his chest. The steady beating of his heart slows mine. And as I stand here, held by a man who is willing to risk everything to bring me closure, I have to ask myself: What if this mystery gets him killed, too?
12.Shawn
“Morning, Partner,” Anderson greets as he steps into my house with a tray boasting three coffees. It’s the only thing that makes me slightly less frustrated at his random drop-in. Anderson and I aren’t close enough for house visits. Or, at least, I didn’t think we were.
