Chapter 52 Sydney
Sydney
Sitting in her car at three o’clock in the morning in the middle of a quiet tree-lined neighborhood was a bad idea. Sydney was new at this, but she’d figured that out. If anyone was awake, they’d notice her.
Someone would call the cops about a suspicious sedan parked on the street any minute.
She should’ve planned better. Fink was right.
Being impulsive was bad. It’d lead to a thousand mistakes.
The biggest one being the fact that she hadn’t researched which homes had doorbell cameras and showed up in her personal vehicle.
There had to be twenty trained on her right now.
Her car would totally be linked to the scene.
How could she be so stupid?
Those were problems for another day. She was in this position because eliminating the threat to her future had to be done.
She had to take care of her problem before it became Fink’s. She had to eliminate the liability. Closing her eyes, curling her fingers around the steering wheel, she had to come up with a strategy—a better one.
Originally, she thought she could go with a home invasion gone awry. Break-ins were common during the holiday season. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.
However, she hadn’t gotten an unmarked van or dressed the part of a burglar. She’d just shown up, gun in hand, ready to pull the trigger and maybe steal a few family heirlooms out of the china cabinet.
Did he have one of those?
She hadn’t a clue. She hadn’t researched a damn thing about the guy.
What if he had a dog? Cops loved dogs. It was probably a retired drug-sniffing dog.
Jesus Christ, she’d be caught, and they’d put the damn dog on the stand to identify her.
Sydney hung her head and gently banged it against the steering wheel. What the fuck was wrong with her?
She had to go back. Without a clear strategy, she’d screw this entire thing up worse than it already was. She should’ve organized this better.
But she didn’t have time. If Detective Morris was sniffing around now, giving him days would only make matters worse. He’d find something. She wasn’t sure how, but it was likely she’d fucked up somewhere.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Sydney’s life flashed before her eyes, and she recoiled in the driver’s seat.
This was it. This was how she ruined her happiness with Fink. It wouldn’t be the detective’s fault. It was all hers. Getting caught stalking him was the nail in her coffin.
Turning toward her window, expecting to see an officer, she was perplexed to find blackness.
A T-shirt. Not a uniform. No silver buttons. There wasn’t a badge. Nothing. Only plain clothes with plaid pants. Pajama pants.
“Fink?” she said as she tapped the button to roll down the window. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to figure out the same fucking thing,” he hissed as he glanced around.
She swallowed hard. Of all the people to discover her outside the detective’s house, he was the best one.
Trotting around, he got to the other side of the car and opened it. Dropping into the seat beside her, he glared as the door shut behind him. “What is going on?”
She had to come clean. No one could devise a better plan to remedy this than Fink. She should’ve told him right away, but with AJ showing up, it’d slipped her mind.
“Detective Morris was waiting for me outside the consignment shop.”
Fink didn’t move. In the moon’s glow, his features remained stoic. He wasn’t alarmed. Or concerned. He merely sat there.
Okay, she had to say more. “He asked about Chloe Grant.”
His jaw shifted, and he lowered his gaze. “That’s on me.”
“I thought if you could get rid of a potential threat, then I could too.”
He scoffed and shook his head. “I did something wrong. It was reckless. Why do you think AJ showed up?”
She shrugged. “Because you aren’t where you’re supposed to be.”
“Neither are you.”
She nodded. He got her there.
“You can’t do whatever this is,” Fink warned. “We have to let it play out. With each interference we engage in, the more likely attention will be drawn to us. That’s what brought AJ to your door.”
She bit her lip and hung her head in shame.
“It’s my fault.” Fink rested his hand on her shoulder.
She closed her eyes and tried to welcome the comfort emanating from his touch.
“I’m a bad example.”
She snorted. “You’re the only one I’ve got.”
He chortled and shook his head. “Do as I say, not as I do.”
She leaned over and rested her head on him. Closing her eyes, she reveled in his touch as he wrapped his arms around her. The hug, though awkwardly positioned, was filled with comfort and reassurance. She hadn’t fucked up that badly.
“I don’t know how long you’ve been here, but we should go home before the cops roll up,” he said and kissed her forehead before releasing her.
“What about Morris?” she asked.
Their problem remained.
He glanced toward the dark house she’d been watching and shrugged. “There is nothing connecting you to anything. He’ll move on, eventually.”
“What if he doesn’t?” She couldn’t count on “eventually.” Sydney needed something more solid than that.
Fink sighed and shifted his focus to her. His fingers grazed her chin. “Then you move on. Live your life. With me. These people are behind us. We did everything in our power to come out of this unscathed. If we’re meant to get caught, then that’s Marco’s problem.”
How could he be so nonchalant about it? They’d murdered someone. Two someones to be exact. The consequences of that were pretty un-fucking-pleasant.
“To be clear,” he said before kissing her forehead. “I have no intention of calling Marco. We’ll be fine.”
“You promise?”
He nodded. “If it becomes a thing, I’ll take the heat.”
“What?”
“I’ve done far worse than you can ever imagine. If the cops come knocking, and our contingency plan falls apart, it’s my time.”
“But…”
He pressed his finger to her lips, silencing her. “These murders are on me.”