Chapter 6
Chapter Six
JACK
Two weeks flew by while the icy temperature settled in Lakeside.
Two weeks spent nose deep in cases Jared and I reopened at the station.
An endless pile of missing persons in the county from thirty years ago, Captain Fletcher wants us to tackle.
Despite the amount of info-dumping, leads, and locations, I kept her in the corner of my mind.
Unable to erase from my memory. Those deep cherry lips, her pale translucent skin, the round shape of her face, and the silk of her brown hair.
Alaska has been claiming my mind for weeks, and still, I haven't talked to her since that day in the woods.
But I have seen her.
Almost every day since the dinner at Jared's parents’.
I’m not stalking her. Not really. Not technically.
Let's say I’m just getting my daily fix of her big blue irises and small silhouette, reading her books in her shop as I’m driving down Main Street in the morning to check on my fellow citizens.
I mean, it's part of the job, patrolling around town, making sure everyone is safe, and reminding people to behave.
I'll admit, I drive slowly each time I pass by her shop, so that I can get a few more seconds of her angelic face. Her graceful way of moving. Her shy nature as she talks to customers. That girl is warming my chest like a fireplace on a cold winter night and it’s simply too good to stay away from.
“Hey, you there?” Jared’s voice bounces off the walls of our office.
“What?” I blink, shaking my head back to reality.
We’re both in our shared office, our desks facing each other, one window centered on the far wall, and the rest packed with shelves and boxes no one knows where else to put.
It’s airy enough, so I don’t mind. Plus, it’s far from the entrance, which makes it better for working in peace.
His desk is a chaotic mountain of pencils, papers, and scattered notebooks forming some kind of paper tower, while mine is tidy and organized.
Just my computer, a pencil case, and a notebook. That’s it.
“I was thinking we sort cases by date and work our way up. From the labels, there should be seven.”
“Only seven? I thought we’d have way more, with the amount of p-paperwork we’ve got,” I say, waving at the mountain of files crammed into boxes.
We’ll have to dig through them page by page.
Not that I mind. I like being out in the field, but putting my detective skills to use is just as satisfying.
Maybe one day I’ll actually become one, and if that’s the case, I’d better start somewhere.
We pull out all the sheets and spread them across the floor, sorting them by case name on the headers.
“Wait…this is weird.” I run a hand through my hair. “Five…six… That can’t be right.”
“What?” Jared glances up at me, one knee on the floor, papers in hand.
“I can’t find the s-seventh,” I say, frowning. “We’ve got the cases from 1990 to 2015, b-but one’s missing, the most recent one.”
“Did you check the archives? You’re sure you grabbed all the boxes?”
“Yeah, even double-checked. I don’t get it. Captain said there were s-seven cases, but there’s only six.” I know I heard him right. And this isn’t like forgetting a candy wrapper; these are files on missing persons in the area. You don’t just misplace something like that.
“We’ll check again. Maybe a file slipped through or got stored somewhere else,” Jared offers, one palm up. Something in my guts says otherwise.
Instinct, son, my dad used to say. It never lies.
“Maybe...I’ll go check again.” Somehow, I already know.
As I walk the concrete hallway toward the archives, I can feel it in my bones that the file isn’t there.
If this case is missing, it’s not by accident.
You don’t become a cop believing the world’s all sunshine and kind-hearted folks.
You join the force because deep down, you know there’s darkness, and someone has to drag it into the light.
And right now, I know this is the case I’ll need to figure out.
Alaska
“He what?” Matthew gasps, sitting on my bed with his fingers dancing in the air like he’s playing on an invisible piano.
He’s been doing that for as long as I can remember, letting his hands wander through silent melodies only he can hear.
My little Mozart, Mom used to call him back then.
As usual, he’s wearing that same Christmas sweater I bought him years ago on a grocery run.
Red wool, reindeer, and snowflakes cover it, the kind of over-the-top festive look I thought would be funny.
Somehow, he’s made it a staple. The temperature drops, and out it comes.
“He drove by the store a few times…” I repeat, knowing all too well that he heard me right, but he wanted me to say it again. Matthew and his love of drama.
“You’re sure bout’ that?” Tilting his head, his brown disheveled hair still wet from his shower before coming here.
I look away, sitting on the cushy fabric of my book nook near my bay window.
Red and orange tones color the leaves, turning the forest into a little fire.
I wrap my arms around my knees. I wonder what Jack’s short blond hair would feel against my fingers.
How he’d react if I were to run my hand in his hair and pull them a bit.
Would his pupils dilate? Would he hold me even tighter against his chest like last time?
“I saw his car. Three times, maybe four. I’m not making it up, I swear.”
Matthew’s hands stop mid-air, his fake piano recital forgotten. “That’s...weird,” he remarks, though he sounds more intrigued than worried. Keeping my gaze on the leaves outside, my attention stays fixed beyond the window. “Maybe he was just… I don’t know. Patrolling or whatever cops do?”
“Patrolling,” Matthew repeats, his tone flat. “You want me to say it or…” He smirks, watching me like I’ve got an exotic bird on my shoulder.
“What?” I whip around to look at him, my stomach flipping in a way that’s hard to ignore. “No, we don’t know each other, it’s just-”
“Hey, Laska, chill. Nobody’s trying to hurt you.
He’s new in town and he likes you, that’s all, won’t be the first, and certainly won’t be the last. You know there’s no point in trying to punish yourself for what happened, right?
” he states, checks his watch, and then throws a pillow at me.
“Not that talking about your love life grosses me out but gotta go, I’ve got to send a demo to this producer.
” He gets on his feet, humming a melody.
Outside, the wind stirs the flaming leaves, making them shimmer in this late-afternoon light.
Could Matt be right? Am I wrong to punish myself when unknown possibilities are knocking at my door? I never thought I could let someone touch me again, but he opened a world of possibilities for me.
“Bye, Matt,” I say, watching him put his shoes on. Still curled up on my cushy seat, lost in the beauty of the outside world, I wave at my brother, watching him close the door after blowing me a kiss.