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“Much more relaxed.” She found her brush and went to work detangling her hair. It would have been faster to simply fall into bed but she knew she’d regret that in the morning when she woke up looking like birds had made a nest in her long tresses.
He reached for the brush, one brow lifted in question, and took over when she handed it over in relief. “You looked like you were thinking hard.”
“I suppose.” She fiddled with the ends of a stray strand and tried to ignore how domestic the scene was. It was intimate, almost painfully so, but he stepped into it without a thought, like caring for her was instinctive. “I’m always thinking hard.”
“That seemed harder than usual.”
It was almost a question, but she pretended not to notice. She was tired of talking about it for today. They’d done enough for now and all she wanted was some peace and quiet.
He let it go, allowing them to slip into a comfortable silence as he finished brushing her hair. They both knew he was staying and when she left the bathroom to crawl into her bed with its pink sheets and floral bedspread, he followed without prompting. He had his own side, his own pillow, his own dent that was beginning to form in the mattress.
They turned to each other in the dark, familiar now with how they fit together for sex or for sleep. She was too tired to want anything besides his warmth, but once he was settled against her with his chest pressed to her back and his arms around her, the ability to sleep became elusive.
He murmured something unintelligible and pulled her closer when she began to trace the lines of his tattoos with her fingers. It was a habit she’d gotten into on the nights when grief or anxiety made it difficult to sleep. After a moment he stilled again. It never seemed to bother him for long and she had memorized the images that covered his arms.
Sometimes, when her mind started to drift on the familiar patterns, she’d been able to figure out a problem at work or plan the next day’s activities, but her mind remained stubbornly blank. There was a feeling in her chest, something restless and impatient, but the source of it remained just beyond her reach and sleep overtook her before she could decipher what it was trying to tell her.
Twenty-Five
Admitting they weren’t going to find answers in the stuff she’d stolen from Kim’s office meant officially going back to square one. It was disappointing, even more so when Detective Chen finally called her back and confirmed that she had no new leads, either. She finally agreed that the series of break-ins were probably connected to the murder and that it was highly likely that the murderer was trying to cover up some secret, but neither of them had a solid idea of who that could be.
Eloise promised to contact her if anything else happened, but she turned down the offer to have uniformed officers keep an eye on her house. There hadn’t been any disturbances at her house since the night of the murder and it made her nervous to think about people staying outside all day and night. Detective Chen had agreed not to do that but insisted on having a few extra passes each shift if Eloise still insisted on staying in her own house instead of going to a hotel.
“So, they’re just going to drive by and make sure there’s no one peeking in your windows?” Chloe looked skeptical as she sipped her lemonade over lunch. Eloise had waited to bring it up until after they had placed their orders, unwilling to ruin the first lunch they’d all had together after Kim’s death until she had no choice.
“I think it’s to make me feel safe more than anything else.” Eloise stirred her tea and tried to focus on the ice as it swirled in the glass and not the way Sarah and Chloe were looking at her.
“I doubt it would keep someone from breaking in, but I guess the illusion of safety is better than nothing.” Sarah had hardly spoken at all before now and she barely glanced up from the tabletop as they waited for their food. There was a new bruise forming on her cheek and she had dark circles under her eyes that matched the ones Eloise and Chloe both had.
It seemed none of them were sleeping well and the stress of everything that had happened was getting to each of them in different ways. Sarah was clumsy, Chloe was paranoid, and Eloise had become withdrawn.
“I suppose it is,” Eloise agreed. This was the closest they’d come to bridging the gap that had formed between them and she felt the necessity of coming up with something to say to fill the awkward silence that followed. Nothing that came to mind seemed appropriate and then the waiter arrived, and the moment had passed.
They ate quickly, passing stilted small talk between them to lessen the tension. Eloise was dreading the walk back to the office and was relieved to hear her phone ring from inside her purse as they were paying the check.
“You two go ahead without me.” She was already reaching for her bag with an apologetic smile. “I’ll be right behind you.”
The sense of respite was replaced with dread as she answered without looking and was met with the sound of her mother’s voice.
“It always takes you so long to answer the phone, Eloise.”
“It’s lovely to speak with you, too, Mother.”
“Oh, hush. You know I’m pleased to talk with you.” Eloise did not know any such thing, but she was not in the mood for another argument. Her silence was her answer and stretched long enough for her mother to cough gently and press on with the conversation herself. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I called.”
“In the middle of a workday,” Eloise rebuked. It didn’t matter to her one way or the other, but she knew her mother’s strict work ethic would let the barb land as she intended. “How can I help you?”
“I was merely going to inform you that I intend to be out of town for a few days. Your father will still be home, of course, but I’ve been invited on a very exclusive trip at work and?—”
“Why did you need to tell me this?” Eloise could feel the headache coming, the tension forming in her muscles with every word. Deborah had complained for years about how much her career had suffered because of her parental obligations and it wasn’t that Eloise didn’t believe her, it was just that she was tired of being blamed for it.
“It’s rude to interrupt, Eloise. You know I raised you with better manners than that. I simply thought it best if you knew I was going to be unavailable.”
“You’ve never been available.” It slipped out before she could stop it, a product of a lifetime of strain on their relationship and her own recent stress. Eloise had given all she had to give lately of her patience and understanding. There was none left for the woman who had never given her any.
“Excuse me?” Deborah sputtered, shocked, for several seconds before Eloise realized she wasn’t going to say anything else. Waiting for an apology, as she had always had whenever Eloise or her father said something she didn’t approve of.
“I’m sorry, Mother, I have to go.” Eloise hung up before her mother could say anything else. Her stomach was rolling, and her palms were sweaty, but she felt like she could run ten miles without being out of breath. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d dared to speak to her mother that way and there was as much exhilaration pumping through her veins as there was guilt.
