Chapter 12 #2
Eventually, I realized he was watching me again. As my mouth was full of fried deliciousness—God, when was the last time I’d had onion rings?—I simply arched a brow.
“Why did you ask for my help with this?”
It was a fair question considering what he believed I thought of him. I washed down the food with more tea.
“Astrid mentioned you used to be military police.”
The way his face instantly shut down told me more than denial would have. A shutter dropped behind his eyes, cutting off access to something I hadn’t realized I’d even seen. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be aware of that.
“So that’s it? I happened to have police training?”
I didn’t blow off the question. Because that wasn’t the answer. When I’d blurted out my request, his police training hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“Because when I look at you, I see someone with the same drive to find the truth that I feel. Someone who isn’t going to give up because it gets hard or complicated.
” I studied him back, noting the tension in his shoulders, around his mouth.
“I see somebody who also understands how ‘used to be’ feels when it wasn’t fully your choice. ”
His gaze snapped back to mine, sharper now. “How do you know it wasn’t my choice?”
I could have backed off. Accepted the rebuke and changed the subject. That would’ve been the polite thing, the safe thing.
But if we were going to do this—really work together—there wasn’t much point in polite lies. And maybe this would mean more than my fumbled apology at his boat.
“Because you were a man accused of something heinous, and you chose to go into a field where you protect people from that exact kind of harm. Because when Astrid mentioned a missing woman, your first instinct was to start looking before anyone asked you to. Because you walked into an ugly situation the other night and shut it down without hesitation or expectation of thanks. Sure, there’s a healthy dose of ‘good guy’ in there.
You’re constantly proving you’re not the monster people believed you were.
But there’s also an element of unfinished business.
Transference, if we’re going to be clinical about it. I know something about that.”
His fingers tightened around his glass. For a heartbeat, I thought he might get up and walk away.
Instead, he leaned back, studying me like I was a puzzle he hadn’t realized he’d sat down to solve. “You get all that from one line on a résumé?”
“I get all that from watching you. And from spending half my career reading people who were lying to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
“No,” I agreed. “You’re just… editing.”
His mouth flattened. He stared over my shoulder for a long beat, as if he were watching some internal film. “You’re not wrong about some of it,” he said eventually.
I stayed quiet, letting him pick what he wanted to put on the table.
Eventually, his mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. “Transference, huh?”
“My old therapist would be thrilled I acknowledged it,” I muttered.
“Ex-therapist?” he asked.
I gave him a look. “I didn’t pack her in my carry-on.”
Something like amusement flickered across his face. It faded quickly, but it was there. “So, what are you transferring? Gwen?”
Weren’t we both?
But I’d give him this honesty.
“I became a prosecutor because I wanted to put monsters away. I watched what Gwen’s disappearance did to my family, to this island, to you. How the lack of answers hollowed people out. I thought if I could be the person who got answers—who put bad guys in prison—it would help balance the scales.”
“Did it?” The question held no judgment.
“Sometimes.” My throat felt raw. “I did good work. I know I did. But the system isn’t as black and white as I wanted it to be.
It took me longer than it should have to accept that.
Longer still to see the ways I’d helped preserve a system that failed people like Gwen.
People like Priya. Even people like you. ”
I met his gaze squarely. “I don’t want Priya to become another name on a list of victims the system failed. I don’t want her to suffer the same fate as my cousin. Not if there’s anything I can do to stop it.”
He held my eyes for a long moment. “That why you left LA?” he asked softly. “Because you stopped believing in the system?”
“Partly.” I took a sip of tea to buy myself a second. “Also, because I screwed up. Professionally. Publicly.”
He didn’t flinch. “Heard something about that.”
I grimaced. “I’m sure you did. The Sutter’s Ferry gossip mill is still primed and pumping. But I’m not ready to unpack all of that yet.”
“Fair,” he said again. “For the record, you’re not the only one who stopped believing in systems.”
“I figured,” I said. “You’re living on a boat, Carrera. That doesn’t exactly scream faith in institutions.”
That pulled the ghost of a real smile out of him, and I could tell the full wattage version would be lethal. “Yeah, well. At least the ocean doesn’t lie to your face.”
We ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t comfortable, exactly, but it wasn’t hostile either. Just… thick with unsaid things and the clink of cutlery against plates.
My mind drifted back to Gwen. To the posters, the press conferences, the search parties. To Carson standing in my aunt’s living room, voice grave, saying they were following every lead.
I set my fork down a little harder than necessary. “I can’t stop wondering,” I said.
“About?” Rios asked.
“How many leads went cold because he was so fucking focused on you,” I said bluntly. “If Carson hadn’t latched onto you as his prime suspect, if he’d been a better cop, if he’d been more open-minded, more aware of the evidence instead of his own prejudices—would we have found her?”
The question hung between us like a live wire. I didn’t take it back. Couldn’t. It had been eating at me since yesterday, gnawing at the roots of everything I’d believed about that investigation.
Rios set his sandwich down carefully, fingers flattening against the edge of his plate. His eyes were very dark, very calm. “You want the polite answer or the honest one?”
“Honest,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure I did.
“The honest answer is we’ll never know,” he said.
“There probably were leads he ignored because he’d decided I was his guy.
Or there was nothing to find. Even if he’d been perfect, we might still be sitting here with nothing but questions.
That’s the thing about missing persons. You don’t always get to know how badly you fucked it up. ”
Guilt flickered across his face, quick and sharp.
“But I’ll tell you this much,” he added. “If Carson had been a better cop, he wouldn’t have written you the story you needed to hear.”
My stomach lurched. “What story?”
“That the system works,” he said. “That the grown-ups had it handled. That somebody was going to pay. That you could believe in all that and build your life around it. That’s what you did, isn’t it? You built a career on the idea that he’d done his job right.”
The words hit with surgical precision. It was infuriating how accurate he could be when he chose.
“You’re not wrong,” I said quietly.
“Trust me,” he said, voice low. “Realizing the person you hung your faith on didn’t deserve it? That’ll screw you up just as much as being the one they tried to hang for it.”
A shadow fell across the table, interrupting whatever response I might’ve made. “Excuse me. You’re the ones asking about the missing girl, right?”
I looked up. A woman stood there in a polo shirt with the marina logo, her blond hair pulled back in a low knot. She held a half-finished basket of fries in one hand, the other worrying at a napkin.
“Yes.” Hearing my prosecutor voice snapping into place, I worked to soften it. “We are.”
She flicked her gaze to Rios, then back to me, as if measuring which of us was safer. “I’m Lacey. I work at the marina office. I couldn’t help overhearing.”
Rios’s posture shifted almost imperceptibly—alert, open, not threatening. “What’d you hear?”
“Some of the guys at the docks were talking last week,” she said.
“Said one of the deckhands—Willie Sanders, works night shifts mostly—claimed he saw some girl get jumped behind this place. Back alley by the dumpsters. Said she fought the guy off and took off. I didn’t think much about it at the time—drunk stories, you know?
But then someone said the police were looking into a missing student, and…
” She shrugged, uncomfortable. “I figured maybe it mattered.”
My heart gave a little kick. “Do you know Willie personally?” I asked. “Could you point him out to us?”
“Sure.” She nodded quickly. “He runs with the crew down at Slip B, works on the Sea Breeze when she’s in. Tall guy, sunburned, dark hair. Usually high as a kite, if we’re being honest.” Her mouth twisted. “But I don’t think he was lying about seeing something. He looked… rattled.”
I exchanged a look with Rios. There it was. A new thread.
“Thank you,” I said to Lacey. “You did the right thing coming over.”
“If it were me, or my sister…” She trailed off, then shook her head. “Anyway. Good luck.”
She moved away, back to her table, shoulders tight.
Rios leaned in, eyes on mine, sandwich forgotten. “Looks like we’ve got a dock to visit,” he said.
I felt the familiar burn of purpose flare in my chest, sharp enough to cut through the doubt and fear for a moment. “Let’s go see what Willie Sanders really saw.”