Tellings of the Time: Complete series

5. 4

A sigh fills the silence of my room as I stare at my alarm clock. I haven’t slept for any mentionable period of time and I’ve been staring at the red digits on the clock to change them into the numbers that tell me it’s a reasonable time to get up. My mother always taught me that even if you’re not sleeping, staying in bed will still rest your body. But I feel fucking exhausted and restless. Keeping still is okay as long as I’m asleep. Being awake in bed? I’m a nightmare. I toss and turn, and I become one of those gnarly Gremlins instead of that sweet and cuddly Gizmo.

Once I finally see a time light up that I can get behind, I swing my legs out of bed. The floor is cold beneath my bare feet and it’s not the first time I curse the old little castle and its lack of decent heating. We never have any intentions of getting it installed anyway; we don’t spend a lot of time at home, and the rooms we do spend a lot of time in are reasonably hot.

I pick up some workout clothes and throw them on. I quickly brush my teeth in the bathroom and avoid looking at my image in the mirror. I don’t have to see my reflection to know how crappy I look. With a hairband that’s laying somewhere on my vanity, I make a quick messy ponytail before heading downstairs while I simultaneously shooting Alex a text to ask him if he wants to meet me in the park for a workout. He has young kids, the chance he is up already is big. And whether he joins or not, I’m going anyway.

Remembering the necklace we found yesterday, I wonder if it’s safe to leave Chester at home alone. The killer seems to know a lot about me, even knowing where my parents are buried. And while I can defend myself, Chester is another story. It’s not like he’d be totally helpless, but I don’t know how he’d hold himself up against a seasoned killer. I’m just pretty sure that this particular killer is only capable of killing women. He’s never once done anything to a man. The need to go out and kill myself with physical exercise is bigger than my need for safety though, so I write a quick sticky note for Chester, letting him know where I’m going and sticking it on the fridge for him.

Armed with a water bottle, I make my way to my car. During the whole ride over, I try to keep myself occupied with thoughts about anything and nothing. I try to listen to the radio, but when the news comes on and they mention the killer. I quickly shut it off and put on some music. I settle on some good old Tenacious D, because Jack Black can never depress me. I’m ashamed to say I don’t remember half of the drive over to the park.

Alex is already waiting for me, looking awake and chipper.

“Morning Wilder,” he says with a grin on his face.

“Why the hell are you so happy?”

“Been up half the night with the little one. Didn’t want to stop crying. Getting out of the house for an hour or two to work out is a very welcome change of pace. I’m on kid duty for the rest of the day, so you’re my happy place right now.”

“What’s wrong with Beau?”

“Teething,” he says, as his face darkens. “I swear this is the last kid. I’m not going through this teething thing again. Every fucking time it’s torture.”

Alex and his wife have three kids under the age of five. It’s a lot. I chuckle. “Does Georgina know it’s the last kid?”

He groans, and I take that as a no. “You look like crap by the way,” he says.

“Gee, thanks, that’s just what every girl wants to hear.”

He shrugs. “You always appreciate me telling you the truth.”

Which is true. Mostly. I don’t like to be told I look like crap. “I’m having a hard time sleeping,” I admit. “Ches and I went to my parents’ grave yesterday. Found one of those necklaces the serial killer leaves. It’s fucking freaky and we need to catch this asshole before he murders another girl.”

Alex starts jogging at a slow pace as he beckons me to come along. “That’s disturbing.”

I have to agree with that one.

“Want to go hard today?” Alex asks. He always understands my need to move to work through things.

I just nod.

“I won’t kill you though,” he adds without looking me in the eye. “You’ve been sleeping bad ever since we found those bodies.”

There’s nothing I can say to deny that. “How are you and the guys handling it?” I ask him while we start running at our usual pace.

Alex sighs. “Scott is doing okay. He’s a little preoccupied with Zoey and I think it’s helping him cope. Dylan is doing fine. He’s used to the hard stuff with the kids we save, and we’re not as involved in these murders as you are. I mean, we don’t get packages sent to our home and those victims look nothing like us. We can keep a distance, as opposed to you. You’re getting sucked in so far you’re practically crowning.”

That makes me snort.

“And you?” I ask, not getting into what he just said.

“I have a teething baby at home, I’ve got my own torture to handle,” he answers with a straight face. We run in silence for a while, with Alex continuously taking up the pace. The running helps me get some thoughts out of my head, but my conversation with Alex leaves me with some more questions.

“Does it make me a bad boss that I’m only now asking how you guys are dealing?” I blurt, a feeling of guilt churning in my guts.

“Because you’ve been busy being taunted by a serial killer and also doing your normal job and saving children?”

“Yes. And being a wreck myself.”

He gives me a look. There are few people who can intimidate me with just a single look, but Alex is one of them, and this is the look. “No, it makes you fucking human. And being human has never made anyone a bad boss.”

I chew on my bottom lip and choose not to answer him. Instead, I pick up the pace and run even harder. When we reach the part of the park where we can do some exercises, I stop running and start stretching. It doesn’t take long for Alex to join me. He startles me when he puts a hand on my back and stares at me with his brown eyes.

“It might not be my place, because you’re my boss and all, but I’m also a dad and once you level up to dad mode, there’s no going back. I know you don’t have a dad yourself to tell you this, but you’re doing fucking amazing. And if your dad would still be here he’d be so tremendously proud of you that it’d make him burst.”

My throat thickens, but I don’t cry. I’m too tired to cry. And I am his boss after all. Sometimes I forget I’m going through life without a father figure where most people have some form of guidance. Then again, plenty of people in this world have to do with just one parent or none at all. It’s not like I’m an exception. It’s just in times like these that I could really use them.

“Thanks,” I answer, because that’s really all there is to say.

“How about we skip the exercises today?” Alex asks me with a soft look. I give him a questioning look. We came here to exercise, right? He was going to go hard on me?

“Sometimes it’s okay to be kind to yourself, Abby. Go home. Try to relax. Get your mind off of things. It’s the weekend. You deserve some rest.” He even sounds like a dad.

“You and my shrink would love each other,” I murmur, but he hears me anyway and laughs. “I thought you didn’t want to go home to the teething Beau from hell?”

He shrugs. “I still love the little demon spawn, even when she keeps me up all night. Besides, walking around with a baby on my arm for hours is giving these guns the workout they need as well.” He flexes his biceps and I laugh.

We say goodbye and I walk back to my car, where I pick up my phone. There’s a text from Beckett there. I feel reluctant to open it up, but do so anyway.

Beckett: Results from the necklace came in. Definitely our guy. No further evidence to be found.

Even though I already knew, it’s still hard to see it confirmed. That fucker really has it out for me. Anxiety turns into determination. I’m going to get that bastard, and I’m going to make sure he never hurts another woman again.

“What are we doing?” I ask as I stick my head into Chester’s office at home later that afternoon. He looks up from his screen which has a faint blue glow. Madball is blasting through his speakers and he seems to be focused on whatever the hell he’s doing.

“Well, I was gonna see if I could maybe find some leads to new cases.”

I grunt. I’m bored, I’m slightly depressed, and I don’t want to be alone. I tried to take a nap, but that resulted in me getting even more grumpy and my sheets ending up somewhere on the other side of the room.

“Can I help?”

“With hacking?”

“Yeah?”

“No.” He shuts off his music and locks the screen of his laptop.

“Why not?”

“Because you have other qualities.”

“Is that a fancy way of saying I just suck?”

“Yeah, you’re the worst nerd I’ve ever met.”

I should feel offended, but I can’t exactly blame him. I’m not gifted in the tech department, I’ve got other qualities. I shoot like a goddamn pro and swear like a sailor.

“Do you have to find new leads now?” I say as I think about what time it is and the long day at work we’ve already had. “Can we go do anything fun?”

“Define fun?”

“Not sitting inside, getting soaked in the last sunbeams of the day, getting drunk together?”

He snorts. “Fine.”

Shutting his laptop, he follows me to the hallway. I make my way to the kitchen and grab a bottle of something strong, not even bothering to look at the label. To be honest, I only keep the good shit in here anyway. We don’t skimp on booze. New clothes I can do without. I’d rather spend a little more money on a good barrel-aged whiskey.

“Where are we going?” he asks me.

“We get the most sun if we climb on the roof of the shed or if we go sit in the parking lot. Considering that I’m planning on drinking, the roof doesn’t seem like a very safe option.”

“Parking lot it is then.” He stalks away, walking to a side entry of the little castle that leads directly to where we park the cars. There are whole parts of the house we don’t use regularly, but still every part of it feels like home. Living so near to such a large body of water with the castle situated on the cliff was a little scary at first. But the longer I’ve lived here, the more the sound of the water became a soothing sound. And the irrational fear of falling into it has evaporated over time. We’ll just forget the fact I made sure that my bedroom window looked out over the side that’s not by the water.

Chester climbs on the hood of my car and sits, and I follow his lead. I unscrew the bottle and take a sip as I look out over the forested area that surrounds the house. The sun is setting and it makes the leaves of the trees look gorgeous. It should be a soothing thought that there’s still beauty in the world, but I’m not in the right state of mind to be having thoughts like that.

I reach the bottle to Chester, who takes it over, and our fingers touch. It’s over before I can look at it, but it sends sparks through my body. Things are changing between Chester and me, and my head is catching up to what I know deep down in my heart already.

Now that I’m over the initial shock of him not being gay, I can admit I’m attracted to him. Usually I fall for someone physically and then see if I like their personalities. With Chester, I know I love every part of him and being physically attracted to him is just a bonus.

We keep changing who takes a chug as we sit in silence and I ponder. It’s weird to realize I have lost my heart to two men. One, whose heart I’ve broken and has broken my heart in return, the other who owns my heart and always has, but I’m too afraid to give in. I just have a hard time remembering why it’s so hard to give into it.

What would happen if I just stopped thinking and just took the plunge? What could be the worst? That we don’t like it? Our friendship is deep enough to survive anything we throw at it. Even this. Is this really a good plan, or am I drunker than I think? Perhaps it’s best to verify with a neutral party.

“So, exactly how drunk are we?” I ask him. The sunset gives his blond hair this golden glow and I don’t think he has ever looked more gorgeous than in that moment. Might be the booze.

“Not drunk at all. We’ve hardly had any.”

“I feel like I’m buzzed though,” I answer as I feel my heart beating like a maniac and something resembling the feeling of riding a rollercoaster in my belly while I’m breathing rapidly.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks me as he turns his head to me. He uses his arm to pull me closer to him, and for some reason the ease he does it with surprises me. I know he’s fit, just not in the gym kind of way. But he’s surprisingly strong.

“No,” I say as I’m suddenly breathless while I study his face. Our mouths are just an inch away from each other, and the rollercoaster feeling only gets worse instead of better. This has nothing to do with intoxication. This is me, giving in to whatever it is that’s been forming between Chester and me. Maybe I’m drunk on him.

“I think we both need to be sober for this.”

“What’s this?” he says as his eyes dart to my lips. I think he knows what I’m about to do, but I can’t read his mind. Damn, I would give a lot to see what’s going on inside his head right now. He has been very clear on his intentions, and I told him I needed time. And I think I’m there. Maybe I’ve been there for longer than I care to admit. A chuckle leaves my mouth. I guess he’d love to see what’s going on in my head as well.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” I whisper.

“Why are you telling me?” he whispers back.

“Because I don’t want to freak you out.”

He laughs. “I’m not some delicate little flower, you know.” Before I can process what’s going on or respond to that, he brings his mouth to mine. Our lips meet and I close my eyes. I feel like a fucking cliché, but it feels like coming home. He pulls his lips away from mine again, and I open my eyes in confusion.

“Watch it,” he says with eyes that show the smile that’s surrounding his lips, “I might be a delicate flower after all.”

I smack his arm. “Last time you kissed a girl, you had a major freak out. Wanna call Ryan to discuss if this is worth the hassle first before we kiss again?”

“Nah, we’re good,” he says as he grabs my head with his free hand. His thumb ring is pressing in my cheek while his fingers get stuck in my hair. A lot less gentle than before, he brings his mouth back to mine. He opens his mouth just slightly, and I greedily follow his example. Part of me knows this is Chester, and part of me still has an error because he doesn’t like girls, but another part of me is more than ready for this.

Unlike every other encounter I’ve ever had, I let him take control, let him set the pace, because if there’s someone I can trust to give my head and my heart to, it’s him. He doesn’t seem to have any trouble diving off the deep end. His tongue enters my mouth and that’s it. We’ve reached the top of the rollercoaster and we’re free falling.

He uses his hand to pull me closer to him while our tongues explore each other. We deepen the kiss, and before long I’m left breathless. I fist his shirt with one hand, as my other hand reaches and tangles in his hair. It’s weird to have so much hair to hold onto, but I tangle my fingers in it and somehow it reassures me. He nips my bottom lip, and a soft moan leaves my lips.

“Worth the hassle?” I whisper.

“Definitely,” he whispers back. I find his big baby blues staring into mine, but I can’t read him. He’s so unlike himself that I don’t know what’s going on inside of him.

“What are you thinking?” I ask him when I can no longer take it.

“That I’m definitely not just gay.”

Crashing my mouth onto his again, he immediately opens his mouth for me and now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop. All the awkwardness and weirdness has disappeared and I’m left with a feeling of belonging. I’ve always felt like I belonged with him, he’s always been a missing piece of myself. And goddammit, all the sappy clichés are so fucking true. I pour myself into the kiss and he gives everything I give him right back. There’s nothing sweet about the kiss, he’s rough with me, just the way I like it. It feels like he can’t stand to be apart from me for a moment longer and I fully share that sentiment.

I need to be closer, so I shift to a different position and I manage to drop the bottle of booze that was standing on the hood of the car in the process. I don’t give a flying fuck about it and let it fall. I climb over him, straddling him, sitting myself down in his lap. He uses both his hands to pull me flush against him, and my body feels like it’s on fire. His hard-on presses between my legs, my front grinding over it automatically. Definitely not gay. Fucking hell, I wish we’d both figured that out sooner.

My phone rings in my pocket, and I want to say to hell with it and not answer it, but too much is going on to ignore it. With a grunt, I crawl out of my new position on Chester’s lap and wriggle my phone out of my pants pocket. Beckett’s name lights up. Now there really isn’t a way to ignore it, so I answer the call.

“What’s up, Beckett?” I say with a certain tone to my voice I’m sure he notices.

“We’ve had some results come in on the bodies,” he starts.

“Victims,” I correct him. “They’re not bodies, they’re victims.”

That shuts him up for a moment. “Well, we’ve had some results come in on the victims. Can you come over and talk it through?”

I almost agree to it, but then my common sense kicks back in. “I can’t, I’m a little drunk.”

“Day drinking?” Beckett scoffs.

“It’s the weekend,” I defend myself.

“Oh, I’m fine with the drinking. I’d just like an invitation next time.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. So I scratch my throat. “Well, I’ll think about it next time.”

“Tomorrow morning?” he asks. “I’ll come over to your office.”

“Sure,” I agree.

“And I’ll email you the results beforehand, so Hackerboy won’t have to hack me.”

Chester, who’s obviously listening in, laughs. “Thanks, Becky,” he yells.

When I end the call, Chester’s eyes meet mine. The sunbeams still shine on his gorgeous face, but the moment is gone. It’s something we can both feel. So I climb down from the car and hold out my hand for Chester to jump off as well.

“Let me cook us something to eat, and then we can go over these files.”

The best thing about falling in love with your best friend, is that there’s always that basic friendship to fall back on. So that’s what we do when we walk back into the house.

It’s not even nine o’clock when Miranda calls in to let me know Beckett has arrived. I’d love to say that I was still busy trying to wake up, but I’ve been up since 4 am. Chester and I spent the evening sobering up and reading the files on the victims and the results that came back in. We shouldn’t have bothered to wait until the alcohol was out of our system, because what was in those files was sick enough.

Chester comes in before Beckett does so. He walks over to where I’m sitting behind my desk, pressing a kiss to my forehead before he makes his way over to the windowsill and sits down in his regular spot with his knees pulled in. Beckett follows about half a minute later, a cup of coffee already in his hands. He nods his head to Chester without making any kind of snide remark and then sits in the chair opposite my desk.

“Good morning,” he says with a side smirk, creating a little dimple on his cheek. I don’t know if it’s because of my current lack of sleep, but he seems way too cheerful for this time of day.

“Yeah, morning,” I answer. “Thanks for sending those files over.”

“No problem. If you’re going to help us, you should have all the information you need.”

He’s being reasonable. It’s weird. When his eyes meet mine, there seems to be a certain static in the air between us again. Lowering my eyes to take a sip of my coffee, I break the connection between us.

“So,” Chester starts, “it’s been the same pattern all along?”

When we went over the files on the victims, we saw there was a consistent pattern to when someone was taken and the position they were buried in.

“For the most part. Some things stand out. The newer the burial sites are, the more the victims start looking like his mother, like Abby,” he adds as he looks at me again. “But the earlier victims look less like her. There are some blondes there. Some with different colored eyes. It’s like he got better over time in finding victims who fit his profile better. Maybe he found some way to educate himself better.”

I let that sink in for a moment. “How would he be able to find all these women who look so alike? That’s freaky, right? He must have some methods. Just randomly running into them seems out of the question.”

“I’d have at least five methods to filter them out,” Chester says from the windowsill.

“Like?”

“I’d run facial recognition over the photos in the DMV,” he answers as he starts spinning his thumb ring. I wonder what’s making him nervous right now. “Or any other kind of database hack to find what I’m searching for.”

Beckett looks uncomfortable, shifting in his chair and turning his body so that he’s facing Chester. “Are there very many people who would be able to do that?”

“Much more than you’d be comfortable with,” he says.

“So that’s not a possible lead,” the green-eyed agent concludes.

“Not a lead, but it’s something to take into consideration when you have certain leads.”

“Which we don’t have right now,” Beckett says in defeat.

I empty my mug and let my head fall into my hands. “Is there anything to learn from these victims?”

“He’s set on his method. The earliest victims show different causes of death. There are some that have a few with signs of stab wounds and a few with signs of damage caused by a bullet. All the later ones had no physical signs of cause of death, but since they’re nothing but bones by now, we assume he strangled them. There’s slight damage to the larynx, which would support that theory. This leads to the conclusion that there are probably more victims out there. He’ll have experimented more before settling on this method. And it proves once again he’s smart. He’s learning.”

I lean back in my chair, looking up at the ceiling as if it holds all the answers.

“I thought we could go over what we know about the victims we’ve identified so far. There might be something we’re not seeing, but you can,” Beckett suggests.

But before he can answer, the door opens.