Chapter 17
The drive back to Blackridge felt different than any drive Nora had taken before.
This time, she wasn’t going back to her apartment. She was going to Carson’s place. Their place now. Home.
Carson drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding hers. They’d been mostly quiet since leaving the cabin, both processing the return to real life.
“You okay?” Carson asked as they hit the city limits.
“Yeah. Just...adjusting. Two weeks of peace and now back to everything.”
“We don’t have to jump right back in. Captain gave me the full two weeks. I don’t go back to work until Monday.” He squeezed her hand. “That gives us three more days to settle in. Get you moved in properly. Maybe meet with that business consultant you mentioned.”
Nora had spent some of their cabin time researching how to start her own accounting consulting firm. The idea had been percolating for months, but Eugene’s stalking had put everything on hold. Now, with that behind her, she was ready to take the leap.
“I’m scared,” she admitted. “About starting the business. About leaving the security of the firm.”
“You don’t have to leave right away. You could do consulting on the side first. Test the waters.”
“No, I need to make a clean break. Morrison & Associates has too many bad memories now. Dan working there, Eugene targeting me because of the firm.” She looked out the window as familiar streets passed by. “I need something that’s mine. Something those bastards didn’t touch.”
“Then that’s what you’ll do. And I’ll support you however I can.”
They pulled up to Carson’s apartment building. Their apartment building now. Nora felt a flutter of nervous excitement as they took the elevator up.
“It’s weird,” she said as Carson unlocked the door. “I stayed here before. But this feels different. More permanent.”
“That’s because it is permanent.” He pushed open the door and gestured her inside. “Welcome home.”
Home. The word settled over her like a warm blanket.
The apartment looked exactly as they’d left it—still sparse, still minimalist, still very much Carson’s space. But he’d obviously been thinking about that.
“I know it’s not much,” Carson said, reading her expression. “But we can change things. Add your stuff. Make it feel like ours instead of just mine. Paint the walls, get new furniture, whatever you want.”
“Really? Because this couch has seen better days.”
“Hey, that couch is a classic.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “It’s held together with duct tape.”
“Like I said. Classic.” But he was smiling. “We’ll get a new couch. And whatever else you need. This is your home too, Nora. I want you to feel that.”
Over the next three days, they settled into a routine. Nora’s belongings—the ones salvaged from her apartment—were integrated into Carson’s space. Her books filled the empty shelves. Her photos joined his on the bookcase. Her clothes hung in the closet next to his.
Slowly, the apartment transformed from Carson’s bachelor pad into their home.
“This is good,” Nora said one evening, surveying the living room. They’d rearranged furniture, added some color with throw pillows and a rug, hung artwork Nora had been storing. “It feels lived in now. Like people actually exist here.”
“As opposed to before, when it looked like a serial killer’s lair?”
She pursed her lips, holding back a laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far. Maybe just emotionally unavailable detective’s lair.”
Carson pulled her against him. “Good thing I’m not emotionally unavailable anymore.”
“Are you sure about that? Because you still get that look sometimes. Like you’re closing off.”
“What look?”
She demonstrated—furrowing her brow, setting her jaw, staring into the distance. “That look. The ‘I’m processing heavy emotions and will not discuss them’ look.”
“I do not look like that.”
“You really do. It’s very broody.” She kissed his jaw. “But I’m learning to read it. Learning when to push and when to give you space.”
“And which is this moment?”
“This is a pushing moment.” She pulled back to look at him. “You’ve been quiet since we got back. What’s on your mind?”
Carson sighed and led her to the couch—the new one they’d bought together, comfortable and modern and theirs. “I’m nervous about going back to work Monday. About leaving you alone while I’m on shift.”
“Carson, Eugene is in prison. Dan is in prison. I’m safe.”
“I know. Logically, I know that. But after everything that happened...” He ran a hand through his hair. “What if there’s something we missed? Someone else connected to Eugene? What if—”
“Stop.” She took his face in her hands. “We can’t live in what-ifs. Eugene is locked up. The people who helped him escape are all arrested. There’s no one else. We’re safe.”
“You can’t know that for certain.”
“No, I can’t. But I also can’t live in fear forever. And neither can you.” She held his gaze. “You taught me that. You showed me how to be brave. How to trust. How to live instead of just surviving.”
“When did you get so wise?”
“I’ve always been wise. You just weren’t paying attention.”
He kissed her then, soft and slow, pouring his worry and love and hope into the contact. When they broke apart, some of the tension had left his shoulders.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’m catastrophizing. The captain would say I’m projecting past trauma onto present situations.”
“The captain sounds like he’s been reading psychology textbooks.”
“His wife’s a therapist. He picks up things.” Carson pulled her closer. “But he’s right. I need to trust that it’s really over. That you’re really safe. That we get to just...live now.”
“We do get to live. Together. In this apartment with the new couch and your terrible coffeemaker.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my coffeemaker.”
“It’s held together with duct tape. Like your old couch,” she pointed out.
“That’s how you know it’s reliable.”
She laughed and settled against him, and they stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, both adjusting to this new normal.
***
Monday morning came too quickly.
Carson was up at five-thirty, moving quietly so he wouldn’t wake Nora. But she woke anyway, conditioned by weeks of hypervigilance to register any movement.
“Sorry,” Carson said when he saw her eyes open. “Go back to sleep. You don’t have to be up.”
“I want to be. First day back at work for both of us. Well, your work. My job applications and business planning.”
She’d submitted her resignation to Morrison & Associates on Friday. Two weeks’ notice, professional and brief. She’d start her consulting business while job hunting, giving herself options and flexibility.
They had breakfast together—Carson’s terrible coffee and toast Nora made because Carson would burn it, one basic skill that had apparently missed him.
“Nervous?” Nora asked as Carson put on his shoulder holster.
“A little. Haven’t been away from the job for two weeks since the academy.” He checked his weapon with practiced efficiency. “Feels weird going back.”
“You’ll be fine. You’re Carson Black, super detective. You’ve got this.”
One eyebrow lifted. “Super detective?”
“Very impressive title. I just made it up.”
He stepped closer and snagged her by the waist, pulling her against his chest, and kissed her, quick and firm. “I’ll call on my lunch break. Check in. Make sure you’re okay.”
“Carson—”
“I know, I know. You’re safe. But humor me.”
“Okay. But only because I love you.”
“Love you too.” He kissed her again. “There’s money in the drawer for lunch if you want to order in. And remember—”
“Doors locked. Security system armed. Don’t open for strangers. I know the drill.” She walked him to the door. “Go solve crimes. I’ll be here when you get back.”
After he left, Nora stood in the quiet apartment, soaking in the space around her. This was her life now. This apartment. This city. This man who loved her and worried about her and trusted her enough to let her help with cases.
It felt surreal. And perfect. And terrifying in the best way.
She poured another cup of terrible coffee and settled at the dining table with her laptop. Time to build something new.
***
Carson walked into the station and was immediately swarmed.
“Black! You’re back!”
“How was the vacation?”
“Is it true you’re living with the Bell woman?”
“Her name is Nora,” Carson said to the last question. “And yes, we’re living together.”
Finn appeared through the crowd, grinning. “Look who decided to rejoin civilization. How was the cabin?”
“Good. Really good.” Carson followed Finn to his desk. “Anything happen while I was gone?”
“Usual chaos. Two domestic disturbances, one burglary, and Harvey accidentally tased himself during training.”
“How does someone accidentally tase themselves?”
“It’s Harvey. He’s special.” Finn leaned against Carson’s desk. “But seriously, you look good, man. Rested. Happy. Vacation did you good.”
“It did.” Carson logged into his computer, scanning emails. “How’s the Eugene case? Any developments?”
“Arraignment went as expected. Pled not guilty, but with all the evidence and witnesses, his lawyer’s already talking plea deals. DA’s not budging though. Wants him to go away for life.”
“Good.”
“Dan’s lawyer is still trying to cut a deal. Says Dan has information about other crimes, other victims. DA’s considering it, but nothing’s decided yet.”
Carson’s jaw clenched. Other victims. Of course there were other victims. Men like Eugene and Dan didn’t just wake up one day and start stalking. They escalated. Practiced. Refined their methods.
“Keep me updated on that,” Carson said. “If there are other victims, they deserve justice too.”
“Will do.” Finn pushed off the desk. “Oh, and Captain wants to see you when you get in.”
Of course he did. With a grunt, he forced himself out of his chair.
Carson found Captain Holloway in his office, reviewing reports. The older man looked up when Carson knocked.
“Welcome back. Come in. Close the door.”
Never a good sign.
Carson sat, waiting.
“How are you?” Holloway asked. “Really?”