“I…” Morgan said, leaning back against the couch as she placed her hands over her face in exasperation. “I’m always careful. You can’t be in this line of work for years and not be careful. I wore gloves just like we did with Edward, and I only took them off afterwards,” she said, slowly lowering her hands as she pushed her body forwards once again to the edge of the couch, looking up at Lee, now. “But in relation to how likely it is that it will come back to bite us…? Truthfully? I don’t know.”
Retreating to the kitchen, Lee Holmes felt the tears prick at the back of her eyes once again, tilting her head back as she traveled through the hallway to her destination, attempting to force her emotions back inside herself.
The only bright side to becoming afraid of being arrested was getting her steps in. As Lee Holmes paced up and down the short space between her kitchen sink and her countertop, she felt the nerves travel up through her stomach and into her esophagus, as if the fear itself might choke her. Whilst Morgan was undeniably to blame for her anxiety, her tunnel-vision seemed equally as culpable at present time.
The cause of her anxiety stepped into the room with a tremendous huff, taking a seat upon one of the bar stools that Lee Holmes had deemed a part of her anxiety-driven obstacle course. “Pacing will only make it worse, baby. Please, just sit down.”
Lee Holmes would sooner run a marathon, or six, before she sat down. She did, however, halt her pacing for just a moment, exhaling a huff of her own, as she turned away from thekitchen sink to face Morgan. “Are you fucking serious? You’re tellingmewhat to do now? After you assaulted Dylan and had your fingerprints taken? The same fingerprints that could now be linked to a dead fucking body? Yousaidhe wouldn’t press charges.”
There it was, that animalistic stare again, as Morgan’s pupils expanded. “I can’t believe that you’re more upset about the fact that I got into a fight and had my fingerprints taken than I don’t know…the fact I actually fucking murdered somebody in our living room. A somebodyyouhelped dispose of,” she said, exhaling rapidly before inhaling once again, finding her bearings as she pinched the tip of her nose. “Look, baby, I’m sorry. I know that’s not fair. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m nervous too, okay? Believe me, I never would have touched that asshole if I knew this would happen.”
“Which one?” Lee choked out, sarcastically, resuming her pacing. She could hear herself getting agitated now, but her own stupidity combined with Morgan’s recklessness had come to the surface and began to bubble, and there was little she could do to stop it.
Attempting to reason with her inner self, she reminded herself that whilst Morgan had potentially implicated them both, she had also defended her friend, Sienna. In addition to that, Lee couldn’t deny that she had been happy about it upon finding out the truth. It was only now, when things hadn’t gone in their favor with the fear of Morgan’s fingerprints being compared to the recent crime scene that she had become irate.
Lee allowed herself to exhale, pausing her pacing once again, or terminating it entirely, she wasn’t sure. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning to face Morgan just as she had done before. “I made my choice when I helped you, just like you made a choice to help Sienna. I only wish you had told me first before you did it. Perhaps we could have figured something out together.”
“I know, baby,” Morgan replied, her voice softer than before. “I guess I was trying to respect your wishes about not getting involved. What I can say is that even if this body is tied to me, it won’t be tied to Edward Beckett.”
Lee raised an eyebrow inquisitively, despite no longer looking at Morgan directly. Her heart rate was still elevated, but it was going down gradually, and at present time, gradually felt like an achievement in itself. “How can you be so sure?”
“I just know," Morgan responded immediately, "Let’s just say the two murders have one key difference between one another, and leave it at that.”
Lee didn’t want to leave it at that, but she did, if only to decrease her stress levels and steady her heart rate. “You know, most people buy their girlfriends flowers as a gift as opposed to beating up their friends’ boyfriends,” Lee joked, allowing the atmosphere in the room to settle ever so slightly. The fact of the matter was that there was little either of them could do at present time to mitigate the situation. Perhaps all they could do was laugh, should Lee have any ounce of laughter left in her.
In the confines of their apartment, Morgan did exactly that. “Well maybe I’m not like other girlfriends. I’ll buy you flowersandbeat someone up for you. I'm the whole fuckin' package.”
The words that sat between them allowed Lee Holmes to reclaim a fragment of her mental strength, enough to cease her pacing and take a seat beside Morgan. The truth of the matter was that should Lee Holmes find herself in front of a mirror, she wouldn’t see horns, no, but she wouldn’t see a victim, either. She threw that opportunity away the moment she decided to help Morgan.
Morgan Finch was not a victim either, despite her troubled past, of which Lee still knew little about. Perhaps the both of them were always predators. Perhaps Lee Holmes was never the prey. She couldn’t be angry at Morgan for having always beena lion, especially if she had become a wolf in sheep's clothing herself.
All that she could do was play the game.
Chapter Twenty-Five
After an entire week had come and gone since the broadcast, Lee began to settle back into her routine a little more each day. She still jumped every time her phone rang; still tensed every time there was a knock at the door, and yet, she managed to piece parts of her life together around the apprehension, like building a home inside an abandoned city.
Diana had called Morgan multiple times since Oscar Tippits had been found, and they had even had lunch together, twice. Both times had ended with a pleasant goodbye and that was that.
Neither she, nor Morgan, had pressed Diana for answers in relation to the Tippits case, but at times, they didn’t have to. Diana had been forthcoming enough with information here and there as to where they were currently at in terms of identifying a suspect. Most importantly, she had yet to mention that any fingerprints on the body belonged to her daughter. With each passing day, the case was getting colder, and Lee was becoming more at ease.
A media warpath had begun to surge against Arthur Strickland, conclusions drawn here and there about hisinvolvement with Edward Beckett’s disappearance, and whilst it was the closest thing she’d had to a win all week, she couldn’t quite savor it as much as she would have liked. Getting comfortable meant getting sloppy, Morgan had told her, and so, she remained practically the farthest thing from it. Had remained the farthest thing from comfortable for the last two weeks.
She had continued her life as best she could, apologizing in her group chat for missing their reality show on Monday last week, claiming that she fell asleep “because she was tired," whilst opting to omit the part in which she essentially passed out from deliriousness after watching the news.
She continued on as normal, but she would not get comfortable. Wouldn’t allow herself to. Because getting comfortable meant getting sloppy.
Lee Holmes vacuumed the small space in their bedroom, grateful for once that their living situation took very little time to clean. She laughed over the loud, humming noise of the machine as she pictured other criminals such as herself undertaking the mundane. She wondered if Ted Bundy had ever donned an apron, for instance, or if Jeffrey Dahmer ever dusted off his shelves.
Further gratitude settled deep inside her when she acknowledged that unlike Ted Bundy, or Jeffrey Dahmer, she had never murdered someone, and would never murder someone, even if her own life depended on it. Alas, she had helped her girlfriend of five years dismember and dispose of one of her own murders, and as such, thoughts such as this onebrought itself into the fold as she finished vacuuming the final corner of the room.
“One thing done, ninety thousand more to go,” she exaggerated to herself, wrapping the vacuum cord around the handle as she traipsed her way over to the kitchen with the item in question firmly in her hand.
She had never considered herself a person to be house proud, after all, there was very little to be proud of in a space like this one. She was proud of her paintings on the wall, a hobby that she used to love but had recently not found the time for. She was proud of Morgan’s green thumb making its presence known in the hallway, but she was never house proud. Despite this, with every sweep, and every vacuum, it felt as if she was setting the apartment anew, ridding it of events that were burned into her mind forever.
It also reminded her that there were beautiful things in this world, too. Beyond the deepest darkest thoughts in her mind, there were also blossoming flowers, and paintings that allowed her to see the spectrum of humankind.
Upon putting the vacuum cleaner away, Lee leaned against the tiny cupboard door in which it was originally housed, and prepared herself for cleaning the living room next. She exhaled heavily, placing a hand against the door now as if to steady herself. “It’s just a room,” she said aloud, convincing herself to get on with the task at hand. Except, it wasn’t just a room, not anymore, at least, not to Lee. Saying it out loud wouldn’t convince her of anything. Sitting in it was one thing, cleaning it felt like another thing entirely. “The sooner you get it done, the sooner you can lay in bed and watch a movie.”
