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I don’t have cuffs, but Booker will.
For a second, I wonder what I’ll say to my old boss, the instigator of this mess. Look him in the eye and say enough? Because Jeff is weeping, and so resembles a man I saw in the mirror two days ago.
I can’t take any more loss.
Maybe justice isn’t enough.
But as Jeff looks up, and takes a breath, I realize…maybe it’s a start.
You spend all your time trying to figure out if you could have done something different, rewriting your responses, imagining a different outcome. At least now they know.
“You’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Gretta Holmes.”
“Wait—” Robert says.
“Shut your mouth and listen. You have the right to remain silent—”
But that’s all I get out because I hear the train. The rumble of the future reaching out to grab me.
No, oh no, I need to get back to Eve. To fireworks and everything we have before us.
This time, we’re going to make it.
I look over at Burke, then let go of Robert and head over to the chain link fence and hold on. The wind surges around me, the world is dropping away.
I close my eyes and fight a scream deep in my core.
Because I haven’t a clue what I might find waiting on the other side.
20
I hear screaming—and it could be me—as time blinks me back to reality. Or my new reality. Present day timeline. Whatever you want to call it.
Thankfully, I find myself in the conference room again, and on instinct, I catch myself with my hands to break my fall. I’m listening to my heartbeat, but shrieks erupt from the hallway.
And then I remember—
My Porsche. The explosion. Burke!
I scramble to my feet, then to the door.
The screaming has stopped, and out in the bullpen, guys sit at their desks, no one panicking at a man burning to death on the street. “Who’s screaming?” I say and someone I don’t recognize looks up and frowns at me.
Huh. But I know I heard it—I turn back to the conference room and head to the window, glancing at the board on the way.
Wait.
The board is crammed with photos of victims of the Jackson killer.
He’s been busy in my jump back to the present, and a hot ball of horror forms in my gut. Over a dozen more victims, from my quick count.
He’s been busy because I did something.
The scream rises again, sharp and fast and I run to the window.
No burning Porsche. But across the street where used to be an empty lot is a…park? Kids are playing on swings, climbing the jungle gym, running around the space.
Screaming.
