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I struggle, knowing more about Officer Walsh and Marcus than he realizes. I feel like a crook and a liar.
“I have questions for Miss Melody.” Walsh plasters a thin, short-lived smile on his face.
“Officer,” I say and stop him, feeling compelled to say something, “if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
A genuine smile replaces the forced one. “I appreciate that.”
Seth
Watching a clock is a shit way to eat up time. But then again, so is staring at a phone screen, wishing you were reading a different message.
I called Derrick about Fletcher a few days ago and asked if there was any talk of him or his crew recently. I killed Fletcher before he could kill me. It’s that simple. Along with him, I took out all of his men who had any authority. I let them scatter. His name shouldn’t be breathed by anyone of relevance.
Derrick said he’d look into it.
Today he sent me a response. It was detailed and thorough, with the names and addresses of five men who still hang together and were a part of Fletcher’s crew.
That’s all I’ve got. That was the last message he sent.
It was an hour ago that the text came through. And fifty minutes since I responded thanks.
It’s the first time I’ve talked to him in years. This is all that’s between us now. Business. The small clock on the mantel ticks and I pick up my beer, setting down one of the folders on the coffee table, taking a large swig before sending Derrick another message.
How are things?
My eyes burn from reading the handwritten print for hours. It’s all I’ve been doing: putting together the puzzle pieces written in the journals. The problem is Delilah contradicts herself. The locations are something we can work with, but the other things she’s written… I don’t know that I trust them. She’s not a reliable source and it’s frustrating and time consuming. If it leads to Marcus though, it’ll all be worth it.
I try to remember the last real conversation I had with Derrick. It was about Laura, I know that. He wanted me to come back, he said he wanted me whole. All he ever talked about was Laura. He hung Cami’s death over my head, reminding me that he’d never be all right again, but I could still chase after what I lost. Laura was still out there.
Damn, that has to be three years ago.
Are you with her? Derrick asks me in the text and my eyes narrow, my head tilts. There’s no reason he should know that I am. I looked through her messages, searching for someone who could have sent her flowers; they haven’t spoken in years. She told the truth when she said she hadn’t spoken to him a long damn time.
Why do you ask? I write him back.
Fuck off with that. I’m still your right-hand man.
I huff a humorless laugh and it comes with a slight smirk. Leaning back on the sofa, I read the message, settling the beer bottle to rest on my thigh. Those were good times. When he was my right hand and Laura was my girl.
She’ll be here in an hour when she gets off work, I text and then add, She’s a nurse now. It’s not until I send it that I realize he already knows. She’d already finished school four years ago so when they were talking, I’m sure she told him.
I know, he confirms. She still loves you too.
It’s not like that, I text him and feel a deep ache settle in my chest. It’ll never be what it was.
I down the beer and get up to retrieve another, leaving the phone where it is. It pings the moment I get to the fridge.
Opening the beer, taking a sip, I make my way back and read the message only to feel that anxiousness I was drinking down, creeping back up.
There’s something you should know. They found a body at the warehouse. Does Laura know about her dad?
No. Setting the beer down, I feel the cold prick along my skin. No one needs to look into that. Years have gone by without her father being a blip on my radar. I don’t like him being brought up.
They don’t need to, but the evidence is there. She may find out either way.
I mutter fuck and close my eyes. Dread is a bitter taste in my mouth. She can’t know, I text him back.
You’ve got her now. Just don’t let her go. No matter what comes out.
Derrick’s texts come hurriedly, one after the other.
I remind him, I asked how you were, wanting to get off this subject. I can’t handle this right now. Not when I don’t know if there’s even a reason to be concerned. My stomach churns, knowing Laura’s father is on Marcus’s radar though. Maybe the evidence is already out and he found it before putting the pieces together.
