Fourteen
Elijah
“I’m sorry, Mr. Pena, but I’m not able to give you that information. It’s a violation of privacy to share employees’ work schedules with others.”
“So you can’t tell me who was working with my husband or who handled all his testing?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry. That was a very long time ago and could be difficult to track anyway.”
“And all his lab results?”
“Those should all have been shown to him when he was last here.”
“Yes, but I’d like them too. My name is on all his medical release forms.”
Looking at his computer, he types on the keyboard. “You’re right. You are. We can always email them to you? But can’t you just ask him yourself?”
“I probably could if he wasn’t dead.”
His expression changes. “I’m so sorry, sir. I had no idea.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sure someone here did. One of your employees violated my husband’s privacy after he put all his trust in this place. Someone knew his blood type and that he was a match for customers involved in organ trafficking. They’re the reason he was tracked down and killed like an animal. You don’t have to help me find out who was involved today, but mark my words, the truth always comes to the surface eventually.”
His brow furrows. “I really am sorry for your loss, Mr. Pena, but you can’t come here accusing my employees with no proof. Accusations like that can be dangerous. I’m not sure how those people got your husband’s information but I can promise you it wasn’t through here.”
“You can’t know that for sure. I doubt you keep track of everyone coming in and out of this hospital, let alone what they do when they think no one’s looking. For all I know, you could’ve been involved yourself.”
“That’s crazy, and I think you should leave now. Again, I’m sorry, I truly am, but this is a family clinic. I can’t have you in here raising your voice and scaring the other patients. We will email you all your husband’s results as promised but I think it’s best if you don’t return.”
Bunching my fists at my sides, I nod and rush toward the exit. He’s not going to help me. The cops won’t either. They haven’t come here yet after promising to look into it, so I checked it out myself without much luck. I arrived with no answers and I’m leaving without them too. As I’m exiting the elevator a woman in navy scrubs squeezes past me, but it isn’t until the doors are closing that I realize who she is. “Stacey,” I say out loud without realizing at first.
She looks up at me with piercing gray eyes. “Elijah?” She tilts her head and the doors shut. I didn’t know she worked here. Landon did mention she was a nurse but never said where. Had he run into her here before too?
Shaking my head, I rub my eyes and walk to my car. Screaming and pounding the steering wheel doesn’t make me feel any better about all the time I’ve wasted today. Picking up my phone, I call the police station, asking for the man in charge of our case.
“Mr. Pena. How are you today?”
“I’d be better if I had new answers.”
“I know, and unfortunately I can’t offer you that today. We’re still doing everything we can—”
“Are you? Why haven’t you looked into the doctor’s office he went to, then?”
“Mr. Pena, we can’t just enter the hospital and start asking questions until we know what needs to be asked first. We also need warrants before any information can be released, along with a reason to believe anyone there was involved in what happened to your husband. Anyone knowledgeable enough can hack into a private system and take information. Even from places sealed tight like medical facilities. All it takes is for them to know what they’re doing, and believe me, the people these trafficking rings hire do. I’m sorry, but all we can do for now is wait until more evidence shows up or we find another lead.”
“It’s hard for me to believe there hasn’t been anything yet. No one saw anything? Nothing was left on or with his body aside from his ring?”
“Everything was either burned or washed off in the water. We’re still looking into the disappearance of the man who rented Landon the boat. We did have a lady who runs a restaurant near the lake say she’s seen him before, based on the sketch made off the description you gave, but that’s all we have so far. I know it’s not much but these sorts of things . . .”
“Take time, I know.”
“Look, as soon as we know anything else, I will call you. I promise. But for now, try to shift your focus elsewhere. Be with your family. Bury your husband. Hopefully the rest will fall into place on its own. But you have to remember, these men are good at covering their tracks and are notorious for disappearing without a trace.”
“If you’re saying I may have to accept the fact that my husband’s murderer will be running free forever, then you’re more delusional than I thought. If you won’t do your job, then I’ll have to find someone who will.” I end the call before he can respond, tossing my phone into the passenger seat, screaming at the top of my lungs. Today was supposed to help me move forward but all I did was take two steps back.
Before reaching our favorite spot on the lake, I go past the docks where I held Landon’s hand for the first time, hoping to see Hank standing near the boats. He’s never there. I won’t stop looking, though. He has to appear again eventually. Maybe to fool some other people. Glancing out the window, I slow my car enough to see all the faces hanging out by the party and rental boats. No Hank. Sighing, I keep going until I’m pulling up in a familiar parking lot. I’m about to walk toward the water when I spot someone resting against a tree at the trail entrance. They appear to be out of breath.
I approach them to see if they’re okay. It’s not until I’m close enough that I catch Flower Shop Guy’s eyes locking onto mine.
“You again,” he huffs out, gripping his chest.
“Yes, me. Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I think I overdid it. The doctor said it could take a full year until I’m able to run normally. I didn’t listen. It felt too good to get out of my head, you know?” His words waver.
“Let’s get you to the bench over there.” He lets me hook my arm around his shoulders and lead him to a bench facing the parking lot. Lowering his body onto the long seat, he grips my arm until he’s resting against the back of the bench.
“Do I need to get you some water?”
“I . . . have my . . . the . . .” He points to the tree he was hanging on a minute ago and I rush toward it, spotting a large blue bottle. Bending down, I grab the water and hurry it to him. He drinks too fast and water spills all over his clothes, blending in with the sweat covering the thin material. His muscular arms are on full display and I shouldn’t be so focused on the way they move as he lifts the bottle higher.
“You should probably see a doctor. I can take you to the nearest hospital.”
“No.” Shaking his head, he sets the bottle on the bench. “I’m better now, thanks. Looks like I just needed to rest a little bit.”
“You sure?” I arch a brow, plopping down next to him.
“Yeah. I am. I’m sure I’ll be good to drive myself home in ten minutes or so.”
“I can take you, in case you aren’t. Is Stacey home? I can call her and . . .”
“No.” His face tenses. “She’s working at the hospital today.”
“Oh, that’s right.” I’d already forgotten our short run-in on the elevator. “I saw her, actually. I was there to pick up some old medical records and she was getting on the elevator as I was heading out.”
“Oh. So she was there?”
“Yeah.” He’d said that’s where she was but his look of relief says he hadn’t believed his own words. Strange. “You said she was working there today, didn’t you?”
“Yeah . . . I . . . you’re right, I did. Sorry. I’m not exactly thinking clearly right now.”
“No. Of course not. You almost passed out only minutes ago so why would you be?”
Nodding, he places his other hand on the bench, his pinky rubbing over mine, but I don’t think he realizes it. It’s hard for me not to. The sparks flying between our skin is something I’m unable to ignore. Why does this keep happening? Why does my want for him only grow? My need to be near him does too. Something deep down inside wants to keep him here longer—to keep him with me.
My heart jumps in my throat at the thought of him driving home soon, and my next words are flying out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Want to grab a bite to eat at the nearby café? Food might help you recover quicker.”
His mouth opens and closes before his lips part again. “Yeah, okay. You still offering to drive?”
Smiling, I nod and rest my hand on his. “Of course. Come on, my car is right over there, unless you need me to carry you?” Why I said that last part, I have no fucking clue.
“I’m okay to walk.” He stands up and immediately loses his balance, falling back, and I catch him before he crashes to the bench again.
“I’m not so sure you are. I’ll hold on to you on the way. How about that?”
His gaze drops to where our bodies connect, his shoulder digging into my chest. “I guess it won’t hurt.” He licks his lips, and fuck, it’s hard to not kiss them again. I got a taste yesterday, and the day before, now I’m badly wanting to get a third. No. He said it himself, he isn’t thinking clearly, and I’m probably not either.
“Okay, throw your arm around my neck and I’ll lead the way.” He does as I suggest and I walk us the short distance to my silver Nissan. Opening the passenger door, I help him slide inside and then walk around to get in also. He has his seat belt on by the time I situate myself in front of the wheel. I start the car and pull out of the parking lot while he looks down at his phone.
“Doing okay still?”
“Yeah.” He gives me a half smile. Fuck, he’s cute. He really is. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice the first time. After all, I was in mourning, not blind.
“Good.” We’re both silent on the way to the café. He keeps fidgeting with his seat belt and I struggle to stop watching him. When we arrive, I help him out of the car, and we gain a few looks with him hanging on me until we reach a booth.
“Can I get you both something to drink?” a lady in a red apron asks, setting down a menu.
“Sure. Two waters please.”
Flower Shop Guy doesn’t protest. Or should I call him Sunshine, because that’s exactly what he is when everything starts to get too dark.
“You come here a lot?” He slowly flips through the menu, glancing down.
“Not anymore. I used to come with a few co-workers from my old job but haven’t since I was last here. That was days before the accident.” I shift in my seat uncomfortably. I hate calling it an accident when I know it wasn’t one, but I don’t think telling him my husband was murdered by traffickers is appropriate lunch conversation. The news didn’t report everything. I asked them not to. At least not until I buried Landon. I didn’t need his funeral being swamped with reporters or for everyone there to focus more on what happened than on mourning him.
“I’ve never been here before but I have passed by a few times. I haven’t been to many restaurants in a while, never felt well enough, and I’m still getting used to going places on my own.”
“Looks like you’re getting by okay. You went to my bookstore and the lake.”
“Yeah. I guess I did.”
“Not to mention you were parked across the road watching me yesterday.”
“I’m sorry about that. I wanted to go in, and was going to, but—”
“Didn’t know how to get out of the car?”
Nodding, he fumbles with a napkin on the table. “Something like that. I shouldn’t have gone.”
“You’ve already said that.”
“Yeah.” His bottom lip slips between his teeth and his cheeks hold a slight pink tint. “I shouldn’t be here either.”
“Why are you then?”
“Are you going to keep asking me that?”
“I will as long as you keep saying you shouldn’t be here.”
The waitress interrupts us, setting down our drinks. “You two ready to order?”
“I am. What about you?” I point the menu at Sunshine.
“Yeah, I’ll uh, take the chicken-strip basket with fries and gravy.”
“And I’ll have the street tacos.”
“Great.” She collects the menus from our hands. “I’ll go get those orders put in for you.”
As soon as she walks away, his eyes are back on me. “I like hanging out with you.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I say back.
Sighing, he scratches the side of his head. “We can always try being friends. I really am in short supply of those these days.”
“Thought we were already friends. At least, you had established as much at the lake.”
He laughs and it’s music to my ears. It’s good to see him looking like himself again. “I did, didn’t I? We can continue being friends then.”
“Does being friends include more experiments in the future?”
Shaking his head, he lifts his cup and sips his water before setting it down. “No. At least I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, I figured as much. Not sure they work so well anyway.” I grin and his shoulders drop, the tension lessening from his face.
Our food arrives and we eat in mostly silence, occasionally commenting on how good everything tastes. He reaches for his wallet and then remembers he left it in his car.
“I’ll get it, friend. You get the next one.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t argue and I set my card on top of the bill. After we pay, we head back to the car and he walks there fine on his own. Too bad. He was warm and smelled better in my arms. When he smiles at me before exiting the car at the lake, the guilt I’ve been carrying on the drive dissipates and my heart races. “See you later, friend.”
“You sure you’re okay to drive?”
Gripping the door, he shoves it open. “I am. You were right about the food. It did help.”
“Let’s see if you can make it to your car on your own first before making any rash assumptions.”
“Yeah, yeah, fine. You sound like everyone else now.”
“So, suddenly caring about your well-being after you nearly collapsed two hours ago on the trail makes me everyone else?”
“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” He moves to exit the car and I grab his arm.
“One more thing. Friends usually know each other’s names. You know mine. What’s yours?”
“Oh. Right. Silas.”
I smile. “Get home safely, Silas.”
A slight blush creeps onto his cheeks. “I will, Elijah.” He exits the car and gives me one more smile before closing the door. When he’s in his car I start mine, but don’t head home until after he disappears down the road.
The guilt is back by the time I reach my house. When I see his water bottle on the floor as I’m exiting the car I reach for it, and for the first time I notice his name written across the center. I rub over the letters with my thumb and the pain in my heart increases when I realize I’m smiling again. The small amount of peace he offers is nice while it lasts, and then when he leaves I fall back into the hell I was in before he showed up.
I’m about to walk into an empty house, shower without any unexpected surprises, cook only for myself, and go to bed next to an empty space never to be filled again. Silas might offer me a break from the truth but at the end of the day, when he’s gone and I have to face my reality, I’m back in a place and life I was supposed to spend with someone else. I’m back to wishing they took and killed me instead.
Landon’s apron sits on the hook in the kitchen and I yank it off to pull it to my nose. I can’t smell him on it anymore. The pictures I packed away are the only ones we’ll ever take together. He won’t ever wear any of his clothes again or put his wedding ring back around his neck. The sneakers he used at the gym every morning will never move from next to the front door or be worn again. No more floral or cinnamon tea aroma filling the kitchen. He was the only one of the two of us who liked the stuff. I clutch his apron tighter, holding it to my chest as I think about how its only purpose is to be the proof he was ever here to begin with while collecting dust on the wall.
He really is gone, and my only choice is to move on. There’s no turning around or changing fate. Hanging out with Silas won’t bring him back. Neither will staying away.
He did say he wanted to continue being friends. I had those during my marriage and have them now.
What’s one more?