Chapter Fourteen
Cards on the Table, Crushed Hopes, and Cold Goodbyes
Nick
I pace in my living room while waiting for Elliot to show up.
I don’t know how to face him. While he was out cake tasting with Oliver, I was stabbing him in the back by investigating his best friend, the person he trusts with his life.
Probably more than me. We’ll get to test that theory today.
Because as it turns out, my hunch was right.
Once the idea that Sam was the copycat killer crossed my mind, everything clicked into place. So, I checked on Sam’s story about the day he came to the city. I called a friend in the Coast Guard, convinced him to let me access the arrest records for the day Sam arrived, the day of the first murder.
There was no record of his arrest. I can’t see the point of making up such an elaborate lie unless he’s hiding something. Then he doubled down on the lie when he conveniently disappeared again around the time of the next murder.
And now I have to tell Elliot what his best friend has been up to. I don’t know who he’s going to hate more. Me for going behind his back. Or Sam for lying to him and threatening his safety and sanity.
I’d vote for Sam, but I’m biased.
When my doorbell rings, I’m surprised I didn’t hear Elliot arrive. I stare at the door, taking a deep breath to luxuriate in the spicy sweet smell that’s sweeter to me now than when we started. Blowing out a breath, I drag my feet towards the door. Can’t postpone this anymore.
Elliot is typing on his phone when I open the door.
He continues to type aggressively as he walks inside without even looking up.
“Oliver is furious at me for ditching the cake tasting,” he explains as he walks past me.
Dodging the shelves filled with the oddest knick-knacks and the coffee table, he flops down on my couch without looking up once.
Is it cheesy to feel happy that he knows my floor plan that well? It’s cheesy. I file it under the things I should never utter in front of Elliot if I want to preserve the little dignity I have.
“Wait, did you say you ditched cake tasting? You sent me that picture.” I sit on the armchair to avoid jumping on him. I need to talk to him before I convince myself to ditch the whole plan.
“I left early,” he murmurs, his focus still on his phone.
Okay, that’s annoying. No wonder the older generation hates us. “Why?”
He holds up a finger, and I get the urge to take that phone and throw it across the room, so he’ll finally look at me. Typing something, he hums, then places the phone on the table.
His breath hitches when he finally looks up at me.
It’s not apparent, barely there change in breathing.
But I notice. I notice everything about him.
Always have. That’s why I knew he was hiding something long before I figured out he was a killer.
And probably why now I know his friend is betraying him.
Standing up, he leans down and presses his lips against mine in a chaste kiss. When he tries to pull back, I snake my arms around him, seeking his lips. My tongue sneaks into his mouth, craving his taste. Craving him.
His warmth washes over me, his taste grounding. When I’m on the verge of postponing our discussion and throwing Elliot on the couch to take him right there, I let him move away.
He’s flushed, still breathing loudly when he sits back down. “I need to tell you something,” he says.
That brings me back to the world of living. “Me too.” I meet his concerned gaze. “You go first,” I offer.
He shakes his head, sliding to the corner of the couch, so our knees touch. “What did you want to talk about? Mine will take longer to explain.”
I blow out a breath and let the warmth of his body provide me some strength. “Sam lied about his arrest,” I blurt.
He frowns in confusion. “What?”
I take a deep breath. Be clear, Nick. “Sam never got arrested by the Coast Guard. I checked the records.”
He straightens his back, and the warmth from his touch disappears. “Why were you checking random arrest records?”
“It wasn’t random. I… I got this feeling that Sam was hiding something when he told us about the whole Coast Guard business, so I checked on his story. He lied.”
Elliot stares at me for a second, his mouth slack. “Why?”
“You’ll have to ask him. But I think—”
He closes his eyes. “No. Why were you looking into Sam?”
“He couldn’t explain where he was during the murders—”
His eyes flap open, and all I see in them is anger. The warmth vanishes from his eyes so abruptly it sends a chill through me.
“Elliot, baby—”
He opens his palm to me. “Don’t… just don’t, okay? You think Sam murdered those werewolves?”
I don’t let the rejection deter me. “I don’t know if he did it himself or got someone to do it for him. But he is involved. Why else would he lie?”
He stands up, looking down at me. “I don’t know, Nicholas. Maybe because it’s none of anyone’s fucking business where he was. He is a free man. Or is he?”
“What does that mean?”
“Oh fuck. This can’t be happening. I’m so stupid. It all makes so much sense.”
I tilt my head, genuinely confused. “What?”
“He’s not a free man, like I’m not a free man. Not anymore. Because Detective Nicholas Harper is on the case, he’s always on the case.”
I stand up, towering over him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He takes an instinctive step back. “How did I not see it? You didn’t even have to stalk me anymore to keep an eye on me. Not when you can come into my house whenever you please. Hell, I open the door wide for you every time.”
My jaw hangs open. “What the fuck, Elliot? What are you even saying right now?”
He laughs maniacally. “Are you seriously telling me you didn’t check my alibi as soon as you heard of the first murder?”
“I didn’t because you were with me,” I burst, immediately regretting it.
Elliot laughs again, the sound more cruel than his harshest barb. “Right. That’s all this ever was to you, an easy way to keep your thumb on the case. Bonus, you get to take care of a broken man. A—”
“What the fuck— Of course not. Do you really think I’m with you so, what? I could stop you from killing?” I take a step forward, reaching out for him.
He backs off again, batting my hands away.
“I don’t know, Nicholas. Because it sure as fuck feels like everything you said about letting me run was a big fucking lie.
You knew I was going to come running back to you and then you can have your nice little project while you run around saving the world. ”
“A project?” I whisper.
“Fuck, and now I have brought Sam into all of this mess.”
“Mess? Is that all this is?”
Elliot smiles, his eyes looking watery. “You know what the worst part about all of this is? I knew. I always knew I was just another Mickey for you, a sad little puppy who needs you. And I took it. I fucking embraced it. All for a scrap of your attention, so I can feel safe. Feel like I deserve any of it—” He swallows.
I want to wrap my arms around him, but I don’t move. I can’t. “I was so fucking selfish.”
I let his words scrape against me, leaving me raw. Bleeding. “So you were lying every time you said you trusted me? That you loved me?”
“Fuck, Nicholas. Don’t you fucking dare put this on me.
It’s you who doesn’t trust me. And why would you?
I’m just a killer. Hell, you don’t even think I’m that, do you?
Just a henchman for Sam, now that you think he has found someone else to do his bidding.
Better yet, maybe he never even needed me because apparently he can do the job himself.
” Elliot laughs at my face, but it sounds hollow, just like my heart.
I stop fighting the sting in my eyes. I need to say something. He’s wrong. “That’s not—”
“Fucking save it. You know what, you gave it a solid try. I’d give you that.
You tried so hard with all your affection, your food, your care.
You even said you loved me every fucking time to make yourself believe it.
” He shakes his head. “It didn’t work, did it?
At least, you can live knowing you gave it your best, just like Detective Nicholas Harper does with everything in his life. ” He turns and stalks towards the door.
I follow him mindlessly. “No, no. Elliot, I love you. Please. I really don’t under—”
He turns before opening the door. “Leave Sam alone. I’ll get you his alibi and find you the killer within two weeks.” My feet halt a few steps away, everything in me wanting to pull him closer, remove all the space between us. But I’m too frayed to take another rejection.
Then he pulls the door open and disappears, while I stand there staring as it slams shut, wondering why I didn't deny any of his accusations.