Chapter Twelve #2
Elliot looks at me, his eyes blank. I hate it when he becomes like this, completely unreachable.
“Why are we even discussing this? You’re not killing anymore. You know I don’t blame you for what you did,” I try.
“Right,” Elliot says after a while. I stare at him, trying to understand what’s going on in his head. He’s sitting straight. The distance between us suddenly seems wider than the barely there space on the couch.
“Okay, so let’s talk about these cases. What else do we have?” Sam interrupts our intense eye contact.
Elliot and I are clearly overdue for a talk. I’ve delayed bringing up his past for as long as I could, afraid he’ll shut me out again. I clearly wasn’t wrong.
I focus on Sam instead. “We think the killer could be someone from the Bureau or someone is leaking confidential information to the killer.”
“Who found the body?” Elliot asks.
“Bureau agents who were going to arrest the victim, same as the last time.”
Sam types something on his laptop. “The morning after he died? Is it the norm for agents to make arrests early in the morning?”
I nod. “Fewer people on the street means fewer chances of a scene. Why?”
“I was thinking maybe it was the arresting agents wanting to finish their jobs more smoothly and permanently,” Sam says.
I slide closer to Elliot, closing the gap. “No, I checked that already. Different agents found the two bodies.”
Elliot relaxes against me, and I sag in relief. “Can you send us the victim’s files? Maybe there’s a pattern there?”
“We’re on that already.” Elliot stiffens again. I sigh. “I’ll send it.”
“Good. Now, let’s eat. I’m so done with murders. I feel like that’s all we’ve talked about since I came here,” Sam whines.
Elliot turns to him. “You must've brought your bad luck with you. Things were nice and cozy here until you showed up.”
Sam laughs. “I’ll have you know I’m very lucky. I was a Saudi oil prince’s lucky charm for an entire weekend in Las Vegas. And let me tell you, he got very lucky.” Sam winks.
Elliot blanches. “Don’t you know what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? No one wants to hear how you spread your luck.”
As Sam and Elliot head to the kitchen, something about what they said makes me halt. Maybe Elliot was just kidding, but he’s not wrong. The murders started the day Sam showed up with his tall tale about the kidnappings and arrests.
No. I can’t do this. Not to Elliot. He trusts Sam completely. I should too.
I follow them into the kitchen, where Sam is feeding Mickey treats. I knew my baby wouldn’t just forget his poor father for another man. Now for treats? I’ll even forgive him for packing up one of his giant dog beds and following Sam across the world.
“Sam made tacos,” Elliot tells me.
I help him grab plates, and we sit back down on the couch. The table is brimming with taco shells, beans, and condiments. Sam picks up a shell, loads it up with everything, and offers it to me. I accept it, unsure.
I take a tentative bite, not expecting the burst of flavors in my mouth. I groan.
“I stayed with a chef who cooked for a minister in Mexico for a while. She taught me everything,” Sam says proudly.
C’mon, that has to be bullshit. But I don’t question it as the next bite sends me to heaven. “She must be really good.”
We eat silently, focused on enjoying our food.
But the lull in conversation allows my brain to take over.
The side of it that’s not attached to my dick and still wants to protect Elliot at all costs.
I try to focus harder on the food, knowing that if I let my mind go there, I’m not ready for the consequences if it turns out I’m right.
“But what about the people dying? They’re bad people, yes. But we can’t have a serial killer loose in the city,” I imagine a tiny Nick in angel costume whispering in my ear.
“Think about Elliot. He’ll be apoplectic if you accuse his best friend of not just murder but also betraying him,” the devil Nick says.
“But this is about Elliot. If the murders continue, someone is bound to bring up Dominic’s list that helped him find Elliot. How long can you divert your entire team?”
Ugh, I hate that Angel Nick is right. “So, Sam, where did you go off to after the fair on Saturday?” Please tell me you have a solid alibi. Please tell me—
“Top secret stuff, Nick. Wish I could tell you.” He takes some beans in his spoon and eats them.
Of course it is. “Why is it a secret?” I push.
“I told you guys about the Coast Guard incident, right? Well, that has escalated. The less you know about it, the better.”
Elliot puts down his taco. “What did you get yourself into?”
“Nothing I can’t get out of. Don’t worry, El. I’m being safe, I promise.”
Elliot narrows his eyes. “You’ll tell me if you’re in trouble.”
“Who else will I tell?”
That mollifies Elliot, and he goes back to eating.
Yeah, no. Something doesn’t add up. I’ve been going around looking for suspects all over town. Doubting my own team. Finding traces of rats. When there’s a hacker of unknown caliber right in front of me with an extremely vague alibi.
What do I really know about Sam other than he’s Elliot’s friend?
Hell, I didn’t know his last name was Parker until I saw it on his bag that’s still in the living room.
When Dominic abducted Elliot, Sam located him within minutes.
If he can do that, what’s stopping him from hacking into the Bureau’s server?
He did everything behind the scenes and has the money to hire anyone to do his bidding. Elliot told me they only stopped their operation because Elliot couldn't do it anymore without burning himself out. Then he promised me he wouldn’t ever do it again. Sam never had any reason to stop.
What if the Vigilante Wolf Hunter didn’t leave in the first place? What if he never stopped? Just found another puppet to control after the first one refused?