Chapter 17 #2
He shakes his head quickly. “No. I’ll be a good boy.”
“Leaf!”
He grins. Fuck. He knows what he’s doing to me. I can’t really get it up all the way, but I am definitely half-hard. “Sorry. I can do this. I’ll behave.”
I clear my throat, then start the recording again and wait for him to give his details before stating my name and badge number, then asking my next question. “When did you inherit this property?”
“Officially, three years ago,” he says, “but I didn’t move in until last spring.
One of the neighbors had been taking care of it for me.
He’s another former interpreter in the area, which is why I felt okay about moving in.
His name is Salem. He inherited his place like I did, but he’s better at farming than me. ”
I smile in spite of the situation. “I don’t think you’re a terrible farmer.”
“I was so bad he came and took all my chickens,” he says. “Not that I fought him on it. They were running free, and it was a whole mess.”
“Did Salem know your aunt?”
“No. He moved in about a year before me—his granddad left him his place, but he spent some summers there. He told me he’d only seen my aunt a few times.
I think she was pretty reclusive at the end.
I’ve met a bunch of people around town, and no one really knew her.
Just one guy who delivered her groceries and the guy who takes care of the orchard. You met him.”
I make a mental note to follow up on the grocery man. The other guy, well, I’ll make sure to research him very thoroughly.
“And you weren’t close with her?”
Leaf shakes his head. “Not at all. I was close with her son. Rain is Deaf—”
“Your cousin’s name is Rain?”
Leaf rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Don’t ask. Anyway, he coaches softball at a Deaf school in Maryland. He’s been living there since he graduated from Gallaudet. We were close growing up.”
“Is he why you got into ASL?”
“I got into ASL because I thought the class was going to be an easy A and keep me at a 4.0. Which it did. But then I got sucked into Deaf studies, and the next thing I knew, I was interpreting.”
I make another mental note to ask him about that, but for me. Not the case. “So why did you inherit the farm instead of Rain?”
Leaf makes a face and signs, ‘I don’t know,’ before remembering he has to speak aloud for the recording.
“Not a clue. I asked Rain if he cared that it went to me, and he just laughed and told me he wanted nothing to do with his mom or her bullshit. I didn’t really know what that meant.
I mean, he didn’t live with her all the time. He mostly stayed with his dad.”
I hum. That’s…interesting. “And did you ever visit?”
“A few times when I was a kid, and once when I was a teenager for Rain’s eighteenth birthday.”
That would have been well after the victims had gone missing. “Did you notice anything weird?”
“I mean, my aunt was always weird? But nothing out of the ordinary. She didn’t walk around cackling like a maniac, holding bloody knives or anything.”
I smile at him. “That’s not typically how serial killers work. Were there rooms that were off-limits?”
He bites his lip. “Well, yeah. The whole-ass house. The party was in a tent near the apple orchard, and she had a porta-potty put up instead of letting people use the bathroom inside. When I first got here, I thought maybe it was going to be one of those horrific hoarder situations where there was like mounds of urine-filled bottles covering the hallways or something. But it was mostly normal.” He waves his hand.
“Apart from all the bins and shit she left behind.”
That’s answering some questions, and I don’t think Leaf has any other leads himself. The rest will be me digging. I end the recording and look at him.
“So. Was it Aunt Lynda in the conservatory with the lead pipe?”
I burst into laughter. “It might be Aunt Lynda in the cellar with…I’m not sure what.”
“Something in that bin you keep looking at?” Leaf says.
I hold my breath, then let it out. “Shoes. And one of them might have blood on it.”
He pales. “Oh god. Dead people things? Murdered people things?” He sounds genuinely upset.
I stand and draw him up and hold him against me. “If that’s the case, I will figure it out. And if you want to stay somewhere else…”
He shakes his head, pressing his forehead against my sternum before turning his face up to look at me. “This is my home. I mean, I want it to be my home. I want it to be mine.”
“It can be yours. Even if something did happen here, you can reclaim it. I can help you.”
He links his fingers with mine and presses them to his chest. I can feel the rapid pace of his heart. He’s on the verge of panic. “Will you stay here with me?”
“Does it look like I’m going anywhere?” I ask.
He shakes his head, rolls his lips through his teeth, then says, “You have a place to stay. I know that. But…can this be your place to stay while you’re figuring it all out?”
I’ve never been invited to live on a possible crime scene before, but it solves a lot of my problems. Investigating, for one, and having Leaf close—which is where I want to keep him.
I cup his cheek, then lean in for a chaste, lingering kiss. “I’ll stay.”
“And you won’t judge my murder house?”
I laugh against his mouth, then pull back. “I’ve seen worse. And as long as I can have free rein to look around—”
“Anything you want,” he says quickly. Fiercely.
I swear to god it feels like my heart has a damn boner. I cup his cheek again. “I will figure it out. I’m not going anywhere.”
Although I don’t say it, I hope he realizes I mean for good. I have a few things to tidy up in Portland, but if he wants to keep me, I have no ties there, especially when my retirement becomes official.
I’m happy to stay forever, if only he says the word.