Chapter Eight #2
Atticus walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Sure. What’s up?”
“I heard you’re in Dallas. Not even a goodbye, huh?”
Staring at the carpet, he said, “You’ve been MIA.”
“You could’ve texted me.”
Yeah, he could have. But he didn’t.
“How’d you find out I’m in Dallas?”
“I got a call from Slade. He mentioned it. Right after he told me you spent the night with your partner.”
Atticus could hear the curiosity in Carson’s tone, but it lacked the accusation he’d gotten from Slade. It didn’t escape him that there wasn’t an ounce of jealousy in his words. Carson didn’t get jealous. Probably not easy to do when you prefer to watch your significant other fuck someone else.
Shaking off the thought, Atticus sighed. “I didn’t spend the night with him. We camped out at HQ last night. We’re workin’ on a case. It got late. I slept for two hours on the couch. By myself.”
“So you’re not movin’ out so you can move in with him?”
Atticus rolled his eyes. “Of course not. Slade’s just bein’ Slade.”
“He can get like this.”
“Get like this? You mean he is like this. I haven’t given him a single reason to doubt me, but that’s all he does.”
“He’s been hurt before,” Carson said, defending him.
“I know that. But I’m not the one who hurt him.”
“But I am.”
“He doesn’t get to extend his insecurities about you onto me.”
Carson didn’t respond.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. “I’m workin’ an important case right now and I don’t have time to hold Slade’s hand and walk him through the forest of doubt. Hell, he tried to tell me I couldn’t go to Dallas. That I needed to change partners.”
“Give him some time.”
“I don’t have it to give,” Atticus told him. “Between him watchin’ every move I make, waitin’ for me to screw up, and you bein’ off doin’ whatever it is you’re doin’, this thing we’ve got isn’t fun anymore.”
“You weren’t complainin’ the other night.”
Atticus knew exactly which night he was referring to. And no, he hadn’t complained because fucking was fucking, and done right, it was a damn good time all around. He would not deny that the best sex he’d had up to this point in his life had been with Slade and Carson.
“Doesn’t mean I’m willin’ to sacrifice everything else for an orgasm.”
“Ah. I get it now.”
“No, you don’t. Where have you been, Carson? You come around when the lights are off. The rest of the time, you’re comin’ up with excuses why you can’t hang out.”
“I didn’t realize I was doin’ that.”
Atticus wasn’t going to argue. Carson sounded distracted and more than a little disinterested.
Oddly enough, he’d noticed that had been the case ever since Carson and Slade had made up—or at least tried to.
Before then, Carson had been fully engaged, acting as though he was interested.
Since then… Atticus couldn’t really describe it, but he worried that the chase was what Carson was really after.
And once he caught his partner, he got bored.
“It doesn’t matter right now. I need to focus on this case.”
“When’re you comin’ back?”
“I don’t know. A few days, I figure.”
“Well, I’ll check in with Slade, let him know I talked to you. Try to unruffle his feathers.”
“Good luck with that.”
After he disconnected, Atticus remained where he was, staring at his phone.
Something told him that whatever conversation Carson had with Slade was not going to go over well.
And if Atticus wasn’t there to force them to be civilized, there was a good chance they would make the same decision he did.
That it was just getting to be too difficult.
Simon arrived at the hotel a little after five. He’d gotten a late start, not wanting to leave Violet with her father missing. She was actually the one to urge him to go, claiming he’d been waiting for this interview for a long time.
She wasn’t wrong.
Still, he felt guilty about leaving her, so he’d opted to fly up since it took considerably less time.
Especially with his TSA PreCheck and no luggage to deal with.
This way, he could go back tonight rather than stay at the hotel.
Which was why he didn’t bother checking in; instead, he texted Archer to get his room number.
By the time he was in the elevator to the top floor, he felt a little more like himself.
More focused, at least. He wanted to get this interview out of the way because he had waited for it for so long.
There were questions he needed answers to, and insights he hoped to glean from a conversation with Maximillian Adorite.
Once that was done, he could get home to his fiancée, where he belonged.
Funny that. Before Violet, Simon’s entire existence had revolved around stories. Other people’s stories. Now, he was eager and excited to get started on one of his own.
Once he reached the last room on the top floor of the hotel, he rapped his knuckles on the wood. A moment later, Atticus opened the door, stepping back instantly to let him in.
“Hey,” Archer greeted from his spot on a chair in what passed for a living room, he figured.
“Hey.”
“How was the trip?”
“Quick and oddly quiet.”
Archer chuckled. “You don’t get much of that these days, huh?”
“No. And I’m certainly not complaining.” Simon looked at Atticus, who was getting situated on the couch. “How’s it going?”
Atticus looked up. “Good.”
Not one for small talk, clearly.
“What’re y’all working on?”
“Listing out some action items,” Archer answered. “Figure we’ll cover as many bases as we can while we’re up here.”
Simon nodded, setting his leather bag on the two-person dinette table. “I was able to do some digging on Meredith Prescott last night. I think I might know where she is.”
Something shifted in the air. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but he felt it as though it were tangible. When he glanced over, he noticed Archer and Atticus were looking at each other.
“What?” he prompted, waiting for one of them to tell him the secret that was passing silently between them.
“Uh…” Atticus looked his way briefly, then back at Archer.
“Meredith Prescott showed up at Brantley’s this morning,” Archer said, his tone reluctant and a bit sheepish.
Simon stared at him, confused. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“I am so sorry, man.” Archer sat back in his chair. “I swear to God I thought I told you.”
“She just showed up?” he prompted when his brain kicked back into gear.
“Last night, apparently,” Atticus said. “She went to the B and B.”
“Where is she now?”
“Decker’s keeping her in a motel outside of the town limits,” Archer supplied. “I thought it would be safer to keep her out of Coyote Ridge.”
Simon slowly sank into the extra chair, wrapping his head around the new information. He could feel Atticus and Archer watching him.
“Did she say anything?”
Atticus shook his head. “Not really. Other than to confirm she drove down from New York.”
“Travis and Gage were there,” Archer noted.
That piqued Simon’s curiosity. “How’d that go?”
“About as well as can be expected,” Atticus answered. “I don’t think Travis likes her all that much.”
“I didn’t realize he knew her.”
“I don’t think he does.”
Interesting.
“I really am sorry I forgot to mention it,” Archer said, sounding sincere.
Simon waved him off. A few months ago, he would’ve been angry that he didn’t have all the information as soon as it came in. Oddly enough, he was far more worried about Violet than about what Meredith Prescott was doing in Coyote Ridge. That was a first for him.
Hell, these days, he was experiencing a lot of them.
Made him wonder what that meant for his career. If he didn’t get excited about the prospect of flinging himself fully into someone else’s mystery, what good would he be to his audience?
That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to pencil in time to interview her.