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I put the thought out of my mind and hopped in the shower under the hot spray, hoping when I got out and stared at myself again I’d look a little more like a human instead of a day old corpse.
When I padded out of the bathroom wrapped in a thick white towel, the duffle bag I’d left in the back of the Suburban was sitting on the bed.
“Oh, shit.” I’d completely forgotten about the boxes I’d brought home with me. They weren’t safe for public consumption, much less Jack’s law-abiding eyes. I needed to get to them fast and get rid of them like I’d planned before I’d gotten distracted by murder and S’mores.
I dressed hurriedly in jeans and a soft, button-down grey shirt the same color as my eyes. Thick socks and my worn boots came next. I shoved all my belongings in the closet to tidy up, ran my fingers through my hair, and called myself presentable enough. The smell of coffee greeted me as I opened the bedroom door, and I headed to the kitchen to get that first rush of artificial energy.
“You’re up early,” Jack said, cracking eggs into a hot pan on the stove. He turned and gave me a once over from head to toe while I went to the cabinet to get the coffee mug I always used. It was an oversized black mug with a white chalk outline of a body and yellow crime scene tape.
“I don’t know ifupis the correct term,” I said. My voice was always at its worst first thing in the morning, and it was hard to live with such anin your facereminder of something I’d just as soon forget.
I shuffled to the coffee pot and poured the hot, black liquid all the way to the rim. I didn’t blow on it or let it cool. I just drank it down and waited for the life to come back into my body.
Jack brought plates to the table and we both sat cozily in the little nook, our knees touching companionably. My stomach growled loudly at the sight of eggs, sausage and toast. My arteries might hate me later, but the rest of me was grateful he’d decided to forgo his usual oatmeal. He never even put sugar on it. I shivered at the thought and took another drink.
“Have you thought about going to talk to someone?” Jack asked, blindsiding me while my mouth was full.
“About what?” I evaded.
The look he gave me was patient, but also a bit frustrated. I just kept shoving food into my mouth and hoping I could escape soon. I needed to get to those boxes. Then I remembered I didn’t have my car with me, and I was at Jack’s mercy for the time being.
“You’re not sleeping well at night,” he pushed on. “Don’t you think you need to see a doctor? Or talk to a counselor about what happened to you?”
“Sleeping pills won’t make the nightmares go away, Jack, and I don’t need some quack to tell me I need to open up about my feelings. I know perfectly well what my feelings are. I have more goddamned feelings than I know what to do with.”
Jack got up and brought the coffee pot over to refill my cup, and he just left it on the table between us as he sat back down. “Do you want to talk about Brody?”
“No.” My voice cracked as I spoke, and I had to stop and clear my throat. To remind myself to breathe and take it slowly. “I don’t need to talk about Brody. I just need time to settle back into the way things are around here, without everyone reminding me all the damned time that people are dead because of me.”
“Who’s told you that?”
“They don’t have to say it to my face, I see it in their eyes. It doesn’t matter,” I said, shaking my head.
“It does matter.” Jack reached out and grabbed my hand before I could get up from the table and escape back upstairs. “You won’t believe anyone until you’re ready, but I’ll say it anyway. What Jeremy Mooney did was no more your fault than it was anyone else’s. And you’re not the reason Brody is dead. Fate catches up with all of us sooner or later. He was here at this time and this place for a reason. None of that was in your control.” His grip loosened and his thumb rubbed gently across the inside of my wrist. “But you feel guilty because you lived. And you feel guilty because you didn’t love him as much as you felt you should have. And he died anyway.”
I pulled my hand away and stood up, my breath coming faster as I tried to get control of the emotions festering inside of me. There was guilt, yes. But there was a whole lot of anger. And it was best I kept it leashed for all our sakes.
“I need to grab my stuff,” I said, heading toward the stairs. “I need to go into the funeral home today. When you talk to Reverend Thomas again, let him know the body is ready for release.”
I didn’t have to turn around and look at Jack to feel his disappointment.
***
“I guess this is my welcome home gift,” I said, twenty minutes later as Jack and I stood next to my Suburban. “So much for no one blaming me.”
“Quite honestly, I don’t think this has anything to do with what happened before. This is because of what’s happening right now.”
All four tires were slashed and a few very creative slurs for the female anatomy were spray-painted in lime green along the sides and across the hood. Fortunately, they hadn’t bothered to break the windows or tried to steal the boxes that were becoming more and more burdensome with every passing second. There were five of them in all, no bigger than a foot deep and wide, and I’d sealed the contents with so much packing tape it would take a machete to hack through it all.
“I don’t suppose I could get you to help me take those boxes down to the lab?”
Jack raised his brow in curiosity because I was a fanatic about keeping it uncluttered down there. It was a sterile space with nothing but tools of the trade. It was also the safest place I knew to keep incriminating documents. No ordinary thief could break past those locks.
“You know,” Jack said. “Someday it might be nice if you told me what the hell was going on. How am I supposed to help you if you’re always keeping me in the dark?”
“The dark isn’t so bad,” I told him. “The dark can keep you safe.”
“Fine,” he nodded. “Let’s move boxes.”
