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“I’d rather keep looking at yours.”
***
I finish reading the draft of his report on the Mikael Larey case. I put his papers on the table and notice that he is watching me carefully.
“So you stand by our first idea? You think Mikael Larey killed his wife and daughter and raped her with the statue?” I ask.
Tucker puts my own papers down, shaking his head. I can’t help but notice the way his powerful arm muscles move.
“It’s not your case anymore,” he says, bringing me back to reality.
I notice the small smile on his lips, he knows I was openly checking him out. I clear my throat and rest my elbows on the table.
“I’ve been thinking about this. I think Mikael came home, and his wife had killed and raped their little girl. In a fit of anger, he did kill his wife.”
The words are hard for me to say. They stick in my throat because this case reminds me of my past and I am repulsed. Tucker is about to say something else, his mouth opens, but my cell phone starts ringing. I pick it up, a smile instantly spreading across my face when I see my little sister’s name on the screen. I silently excuse myself and half turn away so I can’t see Tucker anymore.
“Sweetie, tell me you haven’t tried to mess with Aunt Emma yet.”
Agnes laughs through the phone, with her childish laugh, and I fear the worst.
“No! I’ve been good! In fact, she bought me new clothes for when I come to your house for the vacations.”
You bet, my aunt can’t wait to have her here for a few days. But I keep these words to myself.
“Did you thank her?” I ask.
“Yep,” my little sister mumbles.
Tucker keeps looking at his phone screen, his mood darkening once again. He seems preoccupied with something, but asking him about it would definitely be indelicate of me. “Was it the ‘adorable’ little girl who threatened to kill me the other day?” he resumes when I hang up.
I stop myself from laughing, nodding my head. My cell phone rings again, and it’s my sister again, who seems determined to buttonhole me. Tucker lets out a theatrical sigh and whispers, “Can’t she annoy your parents for a second?”
I stop breathing for a moment but try not to let it show. “No… she can’t.” My voice is drier than I intended.
Tucker crosses his arms over his chest, confused. “Why? Because she can’t live without you for two minutes?” he then asks with a small smile.
I am determined not to answer, but my body disobeys me.
“Because they’re dead.”
I close my eyes, realizing that I said those stupid words out loud. Oh my God, when will I learn to shut up?!
I shouldn’t have said that. Tucker already knows too much about me.
I look at him, unsure, but he doesn’t show anything, he just keeps staring at me without a word. I don’t want any. I’m sorry, that must be awful, poor thing, blah blah blah. I hate people who pity me, as if I were a fragile little thing.
But his reaction is quite different, simply “I didn’t know.”
I shrug, not knowing what to say. At least he didn’t apologize, that’s something. I pick up my paper again, determined to change the subject, but I stop when he opens his mouth again.
“My father is also dead.”
My gaze locks on his. Neither he nor I speak. We communicate through our thoughts. I understand his loss, and he understands my pain. No fuss, no words we don’t mean. Just a look.
A real connection.
His father is dead. His sister is dead. Did they have an accident?
