“Thanks.” I take the one he offers me, then notice that he scans the house, likely looking for my house guest. “She’s out for a run.”
“Is that such a good idea?” he asks. “We haven’t exactly caught the guy who assaulted her.”
Which is exactly what I’d told her when we argued about it this morning. After Jemma left yesterday, she’d barely spoken. At least until this morning, when she insisted we take advantage of the covers Jemma created for us and head over to the aviation club.
I disagreed. At least until we have more to go on.
We’d argued, and she’d practically stormed out of here twenty minutes ago.
“She needed to get out,” I reply, my mood sour. “And short of handcuffing her to something, I wasn’t going to be able to stop her.”
I’d tried to go with her.
Insisted on it, actually. But Beckett told me she needed time alone to breathe. And when I saw the way her bottom lip quivered and the tears shimmering in her eyes, I stepped out of her way and said a prayer for her safety.
I know that feeling all too well. That moment where everything feels like it’s crushing down on top of you, and you desperately need the illusion of outrunning it. Even though youknowit’ll all still be there when you’re done.
“Did you come by to tell me you have something?” I ask him.
“Not concrete. The surveillance gave us nothing, and we’ve checked all the hotel employees as well as looking into their bank records and financials. Nothing popped.”
“So you have no idea who attacked her?” My frustration grows.
“Not a clue. But we’re still working on it. How are you doing?”
“Just enjoying my vacation,” I reply. “Thanks for coming by and for the coffee.”
Anderson arches a brow and continues staring at me. “We both know you’re not sitting here binge-watching TV. I know you tried to look into that case and the captain told you no. So, tell me, what have you found?”
“Nothing,” I reply. It’s not a lie—we don’t have anything concrete. “The accident was deemed just that—an accident. There was no proof that anything was out of the ordinary.”
His expression shows me how little he believes me. “Then why is she still here?”
“Because she was attacked and needs her own break.”
“I can’t help you unless you let me in,” he insists. “I’m your partner.”
“And I need you to find out who attacked her.”
“I wouldn’t mind the risk we both know you’re taking.” He’s frustrated at being kept out of the loop, but he’s right where I need him.
“Beckett’s—”
“Important,” he finishes.
I open my mouth to argue. To insist that I’m only doing this because she’s innocent and needs answers, but that’s not the truth. Not the entire truth, anyway.
Beckettisimportant. She has been since she walked into my precinct two years ago, briefcase in hand, with words that dripped sweet venom.
“Look, I get it. Just don’t keep me in the dark on things I can help with, okay? I’ll keep digging into the attack, but right now, it’s not looking like we’ll have answers to this one. You need to be careful. And maybe think about sending her home.”
“I’m not sending her home without answers.”
“To a decade-old plane crash?” he presses. “I won’t argue that things are fishy. Especially since—” The front door opens, and Beckett strolls in. Her cheeks are red, her breathing ragged. She shifts her attention from me to Anderson.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she says.
“It’s fine, I was on my way out. It’s good to see you, Ms. Wallace.” Anderson turns to me. “Think about it, Shawn.” With one final tight smile at Beckett, he leaves the house and closes the door behind him.
