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"Please," she said in a small voice.
He smiled sadly, then started singing all of her favorite songs in a low voice one by one, refraining from the sad ones. His voice was hoarse and he didn't try too hard to hit all the notes right. He closed his own eyes, threw his head back, and sang, sometimes only mumbling the lyrics.
Eventually, her breathing slowed down, her body relaxed, and soon she fell asleep. Chris sighed, his own eyes burning with fatigue. He got up, talking himself out of the urge to spend the night there on the sofa. Walking out of her room, he closed the door behind him, careful not to disturb her, and went home.
He didn't want to admit why he'd refrained from telling Giselle that her boyfriend's number was saved in his Call Log from the day he'd called him to break the news of Abbott's demise.
Chapter 20
Chris slept till four in the afternoon, woken only by the ringing of his phone. He opened one eye to look at the caller's ID, groaned, and sat up straight on his bed. His body ached in protest.
He answered, "Where are you?"
Alex was on the other side of the call. "Outside your shit abode."
Chris got up without saying anything in reply, not that he could, even if he wanted to. When Alex talked, he didn't let anyone else interrupt.
He continued, "Is this how you treat all of your friends? I thought becoming a successful detective would've earned me some respect, but no. I thought working with you for free would've earned me at least a warm welcome, but no. I thought flying from the UK to this hell-hole of a country would've granted me access to some much-deserved sleep, but—"
Chris opened his main door and dared to complete his sentence. "...but no?" He cut the call.
Alex narrowed his eyes, removing his phone from his ear. "You look like yourself." It wasn't a compliment considering how he hadn't even washed his face, let alone changed into something decent or fixed his hair.
Chris eyed him. "Wish I could say the same for you. Why are you dressed like a duke?"
His mouth parted. "I am not! It is fashion."
Alex shoved his way into his house and shrugged off his blue velvet coat.
"Not where I live."
He looked at Chris sideways and said, "I know, man. It's unfortunate."
Chris couldn't help but chuckle as they made their way toward the living room. They hadn't talked in years but easily fell back into their old friendly patterns.
Alex sat on the opposite sofa. He waited a moment before saying, "How long has it been?"
Chris shrugged. "Seven years?"
"You remember it so clearly. Have you been counting every minute you've spent apart from me?" He smiled mockingly.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm twenty-eight now. How can I forget what age we were when..."
Alex's smile faded. "Twenty-one. Young. Reckless."
"That was the last time I saw you. You flew soon after that incident."
Alex chuckled without humor. "You would think I ran away, when in fact I couldn't take it anymore."
"I know what you mean. I had to live with it, too, you know?"
He leaned in. "They were our friends, Chris. How could we ever let it happen? They were brutally killed. Their families had to go there to bury their bodies. We should've been there. We should've saved them."
Chris looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Saved them? If back then, I was the person that I am today, I would've killed them myself, Alex. I regret not informing the police when I knew what they intended to do. I was a coward.Wewere cowards."
He looked taken aback. "You don't mean that. They were our friends."
"After what they did to that girl... They deserved it."
