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Leroy nods his head at her, silently encouraging her to continue.
“Felicity came to me last week, asking for help. She said there was something bad happening in her foster home. I told her I’d help, that I’d get in touch with their social worker.”
“And did you?” I ask, widening my stance and crossing my arms over my chest.
“I called her and left her a message, asking for her to meet with me but she never got back to me, and neither Felicity nor Brandon came back into school after that.”
“You got a name for this social worker?”
“Yes.” She nods her head emphatically. “I have all of the details in my office.”
She points to the doors behind her and steps toward them. “Go with her, Sanchez.”
I wait for them to step through the doors before I turn to Leroy. “There a reason you’re out here talking to her and not in her office?”
“Yeah, she said she thinks her office is bugged.”
“What—”
“There’s more going on here, Sarge.”
“Get her down to the precinct to make a statement. I’ll have Jane and Derrick check out the social worker.”
I walk away after he’s acknowledged me with a nod of his head, jumping into my car and starting the engine before driving away. My head is full to capacity and I need to unload. There’s so much going on between this case and the one I’m trying to put together against Jonny that I can’t think straight.
Having Kitty at my place is also weighing on me. I know that I told her to stay with me, but it’s still taking a lot of time to adjust to her being there. I haven’t had to share a space with anyone since Emmy.
I drive on automatic as my mind swirls with thoughts, not realizing where I’m going until I pull up to the cemetery, and when I look up at the sign, my eyes flitting over the metal fence, a lump forms in my throat and my muscles lock. I haven’t been here since that day. No matter how much I try, how many times I tell myself that I need to get out of the car and go to the grave, I never can.
It’s been years and I still can’t face it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.
My head feels fuzzy as I roll over, almost as if I have a hangover, but I know it’s not that because I haven’t drank alcohol since way before I was shot. When I stretch my arms, I find that I’m alone and my eyes pop open. I’ve never been alone in Charlie’s place before and it feels weird, almost like I’m intruding.
I sit up slowly, placing my feet on the cold wooden floor and resting my head in my hands. My skin feels like I have ants crawling all over it and is slick with sweat so I stand up slowly, heading straight for the bathroom and into the shower.
I let the water run over me, watching as it circles down the drain as I wash my body with Charlie’s body wash. The smell relaxes me, it always has, there’s something about it that puts my nerves at ease.
Once I’m done, I step out of the tub and wrap a towel around me, padding into the bedroom and opening up some drawers as I look for a t-shirt and some boxers to wear.
I really should have thought this through and packed a bag.
I get out a white t-shirt and pull it over my head then grab a pair of boxer shorts and pull them up my legs.
Walking back to the bathroom, I hang the towel over the heater to dry and walk back through to the bedroom. I go to close the drawer I pulled the boxer shorts from but something catches my attention.
Reaching under all of the clothes, I pull it out and grip the silver frame, staring at the photograph of Charlie with his arms wrapped around the beautiful woman that I know haunts his every move. The woman who now hangs over the both of our heads.
My finger runs along the outline of her blond hair that frames her face. Her eyes connected with Charlie’s and telling a thousand words. They were in love. I know that now and I knew it then, only it hurts so much more now than when I accidently first found out about her.
Evan had mentioned her in passing and I’d tried to get as much information out of him as I could. Becoming close to Charlie and still not feeling like I knew him made me all the more eager to find out more. Only I didn’t find out everything, Evan skimmed over most of it, telling me that it wasn’t his story to tell.
So that day that I mentioned about meeting his mom, I knew that was my chance to let Charlie know that I knew by pulling out the photograph he keeps in his bedside table and slamming it onto the counter before I stormed out of there. Telling him that she’s gone.
And now it’s been two weeks and I haven’t heard a word from him since.
I can’t live up to her. I’ll never live up to her. I know that now.
“What’s with the face, Kit?” Luke asks as he jumps back into the van we’re using for surveillance.
