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Chapter Eight
The sounds wouldn’t relax me— not the way they had before. If Birdie’s laughter couldn’t be heard across the street, there was no peace here. For Omar’s sake, I tried. The cop and I had only ever met at a handful of locations: a diner in the south end, the park down by a housing complex on Water, and at the intersection of Charleston and King. They were safe locations, so when Omar suggested I wait for him at The Lavender Room, my hackles rose.
Though, if I couldn’t trust Omar, I wasn’t sure I could trust anyone.
Adjusting in my chair, I swallowed another mouthful of coffee. The only reason I agreed to the meet, to leaving Birdie alone in the house she hated, was because he said he had new information.Importantinformation. The fact that he had changed to a coffee shop only bolstered his credibility. If the cops were looking for me in connection to Birdie’s disappearance, they’d be checking our usual spots. Here, we were strangers. Here, the news of a missing deity hadn’t yet settled over their bones.
They hadn’t seen her mother sobbing on TV.
They hadn’t seen the search party her boss organized.
They hadn’t seen the crime scene photos.
I nestled my back against the chair, but nothing would take away that ache, that itch. In the three minutes I’d been waiting, I’d done it a half dozen times. The voices that were once difficult had become impossible to live alongside, and as the sounds of the world faded, the voice in the back of my head grew. That one that reminded me of the scars she wore, that this new set would be all my fault. That one that reminded me that when Birdie left me, and shewouldleave me, I’d never see her again. That one that reminded me that I was hopelessly hanging onto something I’d never be able to keep.
You shouldn’t have left her alone.
He’ll find her, he’ll touch her, he’ll take he—
The scraping of a chair jerked my body forward. Omar wouldn’t so much as glance over as he took a seat at the table beside me, back to the shop and attention to the street. The dark clothes made him difficult to recognize, but it was the things he didn’t wear that stood out the most. He’d left his gun and his badge at home. Chugging a mouthful of coffee, the man tugged a manilla envelope from his bag and dropped it on the table in front of me, settling back into his seat a moment later. The name on the front,Josh’s name, almost made me tear the god damn thing in half, but as I lifted the aged medical records from their package, even the voice in my head silenced.
It was all there, in black and white. The memories I’d spent so long trying to deny. Reports from the police and the hospital staff outlined the savage attack that had put him in the ICU. For two days they thought his parents would pull him off life support, but I had never been that lucky. Josh awoke three days later, but he’d never be the same.
He’d never touch her again.
You made sure of that.
“The kid’s clean.”
“What?” I didn’t notice how stiff I’d grown until I lost the ability to turn my head. “What the fuck do you mean he’s clean?”
“I mean he’s clean.” Omar shifted again, taking a sip of his coffee as he glanced out to the road. “He had shoulder surgery that morning. Didn’t get released until Tuesday afternoon.”
My mouth dried as I looked down at the files again, as I skipped to the reports at the back of the stack. Not that it would matter. My hands were shaking too hard to read much of anything. A frustrated snarl tore through my throat, and I stuffed the papers back in their case.
“Then he had someone else do it.”
“Kid’s got about as many friends as you do.” When that rot came back, when my soul decayed, Omar pulled back. His voice softened, and as I threw the papers back at him, he folded them neatly into his bag. “Mick, the only calls he made from the hospital phone or his cell phone were to his mother and to Bridget. We’re gonna need to open up to some new possibilities here.”
He doesn’t believe you. No one does.
They’ll take her away. They’ll putyouaway.
“The kid did it, Omar.”
I wouldn’t need him to look over to me to know the disgusting shit swimming in his head. I didn’t need him to spit out that venom for it to run through my bloodstream— we’d been working together too long to need that. Whatever doubt he wore back at the house had taken over completely.
“If we move now, we can fix this thing before it goes too far.” The suggestion tensed every one of my muscles, but Omar pushed again. “If you drop her off at the hospital now—”
“She doesn’t need a hospital.”
“You use the time to arrange another alibi, the doctors will say she made the whole thing up because she injured her head, and they’ll clear you of the charges in a few days.”
“And the psycho in the woods?” Finally, he shifted. A prickle ran over Omar’s skin as he glanced to the side. It was a look I’d seen too many times before, a look that stopped my heart. “The fucker who did this is out there and you want to just let her—”
“We don’t even know that there’s anyone out in the woods.”
He’ll put you in a cage. Where you belong.
