“Why didn’t you just fucking come with me, then?” I don’t know why I was getting so defensive. I knew I wasn’t a cop and I was only trying to help, but it had reached beyond that now. The attacks against me were personal. The people in my immediate circle were being affected because of this psycho.
“Why are you getting so pissed?” Calvin asked in a harsh whisper.
“I’m not helpless,” I said firmly. I had been standing at the south exit of the library beside one of the two great lion sculptures. Ironic that I was giving Calvin so much unnecessary shit while standing beside the lion known as Patience.
“I don’t know why you keep insisting I think these things,” Calvin said.
I raised my head to look up at Patience. The lions were over a century old and had a few names throughout the years, but in the thirties, the mayor of New York City had renamed them Patience and Fortitude, qualities he said that all citizens needed to survive the Great Depression. Patience had weathered far more in life than I had or ever would. Over a hundred years of joy and celebration, sorrow and loss, destruction and construction, the lions had endured with unwavering dignity. Perhaps I was giving a slab of marble too much credit, but I put my hand against the cold pedestal Patience sat upon and took a breath.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Calvin.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated.
He was quiet for a beat. “It’s okay. I know this is stressing you out.”
And the fight was over.
Had this been with Neil, we’d still be going at it.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Kate Bell was the woman I spoke to,” I said.
“Thank you.” Calvin said good-bye and hung up.
ADMITTEDLY, BYthe time I got to the diner Duncan had texted me to meet him at, I was feeling a little guilty about having a date with him. It’s not like I had expected to end up at Calvin’s the night before. I certainly hadn’t thought I’d be getting more phenomenal sex or skirting around a potential relationship.
Were we dating? No.
Would we? Hard to tell. I was not oblivious to how he evaded a direct answer that morning when I brought it up.
And I certainly hadn’t expected to learn about Calvin’s PTSD. That worried me. I had never seen a man break down so suddenly the way he had last night, and this morning it was like it hadn’t happened. It was like watching a knight put his armor on. Nothing could reach Calvin when he was at work; he was focused solely on his job as a detective. But how long can a knight endure the weight before it becomes too heavy and he has to remove pieces of his chainmail? Before he must make himself vulnerable in order to breathe?
I had learned through my initial research on Calvin that he had left the military just a few years ago, but how many times in those years had he awakened like he had last night? It had to be exhausting. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I literally could not imagine what he was going through, but it hurt to see him suffer alone. I decided while sitting at a booth in the back that once this shitstorm of a case was over, I’d approach Calvin about seeking help.
A soldier shouldn’t fight a war alone. There were people who could help him.
I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and tugged it free. Text from Calvin Winter. I smiled and unlocked the phone with a swipe, not sure what to expect after our last conversation.
Forensics at apartment now.
What a romantic.
Another text popped up on my phone while I had been trying to peck my way through a response. Beth Harrison. Wow, wasn’t I the popular sort today?
Celebrate the Master of Horror and Macabre with a surprise unveiling! Sure to capture the hearts of the literary world! Tonight at Good Books, 7:00!
What?
I didn’t bother with texts and immediately called Beth. “What the hell is that text about?” I asked when she picked up.
“Good morning to you too, Sebby.”
“Good morning. What surprise unveiling?”
“Did your father never teach you whatsurprisemeant?”
