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“Funny way of showing it,” Griffin mutters.
But Jess doesn’t mention how she felt at that time. That she wasn’t fit to be a mother. That she knew if she left Patrick, there would be no way she’d get custody of Alice.
The crushing knowledge that she was no better than a piece of shit on her husband’s shoe. Something to clean off and discard. She remembers Patrick’s threats that if she didn’t get better, he’d call the police again, and this time she wouldn’t be leaving, no matter what Nav said. He talked of electroconvulsive therapy, of lobotomies. Drugs to dull her thoughts. She had no knowledge of what those things were, or even if they applied to her, but the fear? It was the fear that kept her in check. And that fear that now keeps her away from the police, knowing they have the power to put her there again.
“I’m sorry, Jess,” Griffin says quietly, and she looks at him. He’s staring down at the tabletop. “I get why you don’t trust the police. I said I’d help you find who murdered Patrick, and I’m letting you down. I don’t want to be another one of those people.”
Jess looks at him. She shakes her head. “That’s not it at all,” she says. “I …” She pauses. “I needed to know what happened to Patrick, yes. But that feels like a long time ago now. That’s not why I’ve stayed.”
She reaches over and takes his hand. He looks at it for a few beats, then lifts his head and meets her eyes. She’s never seen him look so miserable.
“You’re not letting me down, Griffin,” she says. “And you’re not letting Mia down either.”
He looks down again quickly, pulling his hand away from hers. Jess curses inside her head. She shouldn’t have said that, about Mia.
She gets up from the table and goes across to the kitchen. She’s not hungry, but she wants to give him some space, or as much as she can in this tiny basement. But then she hears him push his chair out and feels him standing behind her.
She turns, and he takes her face in his hands, kissing her gently.
It’s not like the other times they’ve kissed. It’s slow, soft. He moves his hands into her hair, and she does the same, then down his back, under the hem of his shirt. They move toward the bed, taking clothes off as they go, smiling when a sock refuses to come off, when her T-shirt gets stuck on her head. They fall together, him on top of her, and she enjoys the feeling of the weight of him, the warmth of skin against skin.
They’re taking their time. Both of them are exploring, making the most of being with each other, in contrast to the frantic nature before. But it’s not just the speed that’s changed.
They’re actually looking at each other. At first, the eye contact seems strange, too intimate, but then Jess realizes she can’t look away. She’s lost, his light brown eyes on her, his long lashes, the smile lines at the corner of his eyes. She likes it. Likes him.
The lines on his face relax. He’s watching her, smiling as her expression changes, depending on what he’s doing, where he’s putting his hands, his fingers, his mouth.
This is different, she thinks. And then he’s inside her, and she doesn’t think much at all.
* * *
They fall asleep, their bodies entwined, but when Jess wakes, Griffin has gone. She looks at the clock, confused. It’s just past midnight.
She sits up in bed, then sees his car keys lying on the table. He can’t go far without the Land Rover. Something feels wrong.
She gets up, puts a light on and gets dressed. She looks around. Everything else is here—his rucksack, his laptop. But his coat has gone, his boots.
Jess hesitates. But she can’t bear sitting around doing nothing. She picks up the keys and climbs the stairs, leaving the apartment.
Outside the air is cold but still. The same cars sit for sale on the lot; a taxi goes past on the road. She can’t see Griffin.
She takes a few steps out of the shadow of the main building, then something catches her eye. It’s a shape on the ground, clothing, what seems to be a body.
A bad feeling grips her and she runs over. But relief when she sees it’s not Griffin is replaced by horror.
The woman’s eyes are open, looking to the sky. Her mouth, lips raw, teeth damaged, is open in a silent scream. She’s never seen a dead body like this before, not up close.
The smell snags in her nose. Decay, feces, an indescribable stench that makes her gag. Wet wounds cover the woman’s body, she can see white bone poking through ripped skin.
She takes a step back, then breath catches in her throat as hands grip her arms tightly. She goes to scream, but stops as she hears his voice.
“Jess, what are you doing here? You have to go.”
Griffin is behind her, guiding her back toward the apartment, but she resists. The shock of seeing the woman is making her angry, hot tears running down her face.
“Where did you go, Griffin?” she cries at him. “Who is this? Where did you go?”
He left her, to find this woman alone. He tries to quiet her, but she’s still furious.
