Page 13 of XO Karma

“There’s a serial killer on the loose.” Hearing the words out loud causes a paralyzing chill to crawl up my spine, raising the hair on the nape of my neck. “I can’t be focused on finding him if I’m worried about you. Not to mention the department’s increased patrol. Do you want to get caught?”

“This is bullshit!”

“Please, Lil?”

A huff of frustration tumbles out of me. “So what, I’m supposed to just go home and Netflix-and-chill as if a murderer, Violet’s murderer, isn’t roaming the streets, looking for their next victim?”

“Yes.” His tone is firm. “That’s exactly what you need to do.”

“I’m not agreeing to that.”

“Maybe you should go visit Mom and Dad for a few weeks,” he suggests.

“Now you want to ship me off to Florida?!” I love our parents, but I just don’t want to be around them right now. It’s hard enough to stay strong, and I know the second I fell in their arms, I’d collapse.

“I’m just trying to protect you.” His expression softens. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

My brows draw together. “Why would you lose me?”

“Well, possibility one, the fucking Kodak Killer gets you, and possibility two…” He trails off, eyes dropping to the floor.

“Possibility two, what?”

“Forget it.” He waves me off.

“Just tell me, Liam. Be real with me,” I beg. “I’m sick of this bullshit keeping secrets from each other. We never used to do that.”

“We both know you were… struggling. After Violet.”

Now it’s my turn to look away. Because he’s right. I wasn’t just struggling, I was drowning. The world was dark, and without Violet, I didn’t want to be in it anymore. It took me months to find the will to live again. And starting XO Karma gave me that purpose. Any time I’ve had those dark thoughts about how fucked the world is, I convince myself it’s better for me to be here, delivering retribution and righting wrongs, rather than just giving up. “Well, I’m not struggling anymore.”

Another lie. I’m mostly okay, but grief doesn’t just dissipate one day, never to return. It comes in waves. I’ll have weeks where I don’t grieve her, and then a memory, a photo, a laugh that sounds a little too close to hers hits me out of nowhere, and I’m right back to the first day, the photo of her corpse in the newspaper in my hands. The day everything went to shit.

“And that’s why I don’t want you anywhere near this,” Liam says, pulling me out of the dark abyss.

“What do you mean?”

“You get that far-off look in your eyes. I don’t want you being weighed down by everything that’s happening.”

“Liam.” I take a deep breath. “My literal job is trying to balance for the horrible shit that happens daily. And this, him, he’s the worst of the worst.”

“Yes, and you have to allow us”—he waves his hand around at the precinct—“to do our jobs too. You’re not going to make that easier by adding another body to the victim list.”

“Well, every victim provides additional evidence, doesn’t it?” I deadpan, and his brows furrow as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Relax, L. I’m kidding. I’m not interested in getting murdered for the sake of the investigation.”

“Exactly. So stay out of this.”

He’s clearly made up his mind, but so have I. Guess it’s time to put on my poker face. “Fine. I’ll lie low.”

His shoulders deflate, and he dons a sympathetic smile. “Thank you.”

He’s either super gullible or wants to believe I’ll do as he wishes. Regardless, I have no interest in prolonging this conversation. He must not either, as he opens the door of the interrogation room, gesturing me out.

“See you at home?” he asks.

I wave my arms around, the newspaper still clutched in my palm. “Where the hell else would I be?”

Back in the comfort of my bedroom, I kneel on the soft pink rug and reach under the bed. I tug out a floral rectangular storage box, set it on the mattress, and knock off the lid. A stack of newspapers stares at me, the one in my hand begging to be thrown inside.