Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
“Winslow, it’s been four days,” Lieutenant Delaney said.
Seth sat on the edge of the motel bed, leaning his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his temple with one hand and held his phone with the other.
The disapproving tone in Delaney’s voice was something he never wanted to hear, but it was warranted after what he’d done.
It was after midnight now, and he’d been ducking her calls all day.
He’d been ducking telling her the truth in general for four.
“Just take it out of my vacation. I needed this time off, Lieutenant.”
“One, it’s already coming out of your vacation, and two, no you did not ‘need’ this time off.
I finally got the real story out of Chief Wells today.
She clearly didn’t want to talk badly of you, but a Fairview resident complained about you harassing him.
Said you’ve been stalking him at his residence.
I thought she must be mistaken, because my detective has a blemish-free record with zero complaints made against him, ever. She insisted it was no error.”
Seth ground his teeth. “That would be Ron Dyer, ma’am. No, I did not ‘stalk’ him. Yes, I drove past his farm a few times because I’m rightfully worried for his daughter, and I think he knows something.”
“The daughter, right. The daughter whose own family insists she’s fine. You had a relationship with this girl, is that what I’m understanding?”
“It was more than that.”
“It always is.” Delaney sighed. “Look, I’m only getting wind of this, but here’s what I think.
There were murders happening in town and the girl looked like the victims, so she found comfort in a cop.
Once the killer was caught, she went back to her normal life.
She used you, Winslow. It happens. Move on. ”
“No, Lieutenant, it wasn’t like that. You don’t understand—”
“Seth. You are showing your age.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting the weight of his embarrassment and shame crush him. “I know. I know.”
“Your obsession with this girl ends now. You will drive back to Kansas City tomorrow morning. Go home, get yourself together, and be in the office by noon.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Delaney took a breath. “You did good work in that town. That’s the only reason I’m willing to overlook this lapse in judgement, but if you can’t pull yourself together, I’ll have no choice but to reevaluate your place here.”
“I understand, Lieutenant.”
“See that you do.”
The line went dead.
Lieutenant Delaney was done giving him chances, done giving him the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t blame her. The way he’d been acting over the past few days had been nothing short of deplorable.
The day after Claire disappeared, he’d conscripted Pereira’s help in getting the ring camera footage across from her trailer.
It showed her coming home the morning after their night together, going inside, then her dad showing up shortly after.
They were in there for hours with the curtains drawn before Claire and Dillon emerged with luggage.
Claire had worn a smile on her face as Dillon helped her into his car.
To Seth, she looked intoxicated—to Pereira, like she’d just gotten engaged.
After that, maybe he did get a bit unhinged.
Maybe he did drive by the Dyers’ farm one too many times, hoping to see something through the windows, even though they’d pulled all the curtains shut.
Maybe he did visit the Dyers’ bar again just to glare at Marty, who was filling in as the bartender; maybe he did follow Ron to the grocery store just to see what he’d buy.
But without any jurisdiction, he was nothing more than a man who hardly knew Claire Dyer at all.
And maybe that was true. But what he’d seen in her had been real. No one could convince him otherwise.
He rubbed his hand along his jaw. It itched beneath the facial hair he let grow in a few days more than he ever allowed it, but he’d been too mentally preoccupied to think about shaving.
The smell of the unlit candle on the nightstand beside him wafted through the room.
He picked up the sturdy glass jar, admiring the deep red, and flipped it over in his hands.
It smelled like her. Like that night they’d spent together.
Like when she’d lain herself out for him, raw and bare, like no woman ever had.
She’d given herself to him in ways he didn’t know were possible.
She’d trusted him, even after so many people in her life had let her down.
Those memories tortured him now.
He’d gone over every moment of that night in painstaking detail, looking for anything he could’ve missed. Was it really possible it was all a lie?
His vision grew watery. Confused, he touched his eyes.
Tears dotted his fingertips, catching him off guard.
Seth wasn’t a crier. It wasn’t like he thought it was weak, especially as he’d gotten older and grown a mind of his own, but some of the men his mom used to bring home would beat the tears out of him if he ever started whining, and old habits die hard.
Maybe he got misty-eyed every now and then, but he hadn’t shed actual tears since Detective Landis’s funeral five years ago. And even those had been subdued.
But the thought of leaving without seeing Claire safe killed him. He felt stupid, embarrassed, and useless. He just needed to see her one more time.
It wasn’t going to happen.
He couldn’t even fathom the amount of therapy he was going to need after this.
His phone buzzed on the bed beside him. He expected it to be Delaney, reaming him out again, but the name on his screen made his heart bottom out.
With bated breath, he answered. “Claire?”
“H-hi.”
Holy shit.
It was really her.
He stood and paced the room, where most of his belongings had been noncommittally stuffed in his suitcase. “Claire, where are you? Are you hurt? Please talk to me. I’ve been looking for you for days.”
“I’m okay.”
She didn’t sound okay. She sounded robotic.
“I’m real sorry for what happened,” she said. “I had so much going on… then Dillon proposed…”
He was already grabbing his car keys off the table by the window. “Tell me where you are. I’ll come pick you up.”
“I’m outside.”
What?
He ripped back the curtains.
And there she was.
Claire stood in the parking lot, completely alone. She wore a pair of shorts and an oversized, light blue hoodie, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but it was definitely her. She waved weakly when she saw him, and he could make out a tight smile on her face.
He didn’t know what to think. This was making him insane.
“Can you come down?” she asked. “I thought… maybe we could go for a drive and talk…”
Good idea. Because even though he could see her, he still sensed something was wrong.
He went outside and locked up anyway, hurrying down the stairs to meet her by his car in the otherwise vacant parking lot, bathed by the flickering motel sign.
It was rare for him to feel the outside air on his arms; he was wearing a black T-shirt, but hadn’t bothered to throw on a hoodie.
Claire had already seen his track marks anyway.
He glanced around the parking lot, past the field on the other side of the road, for any sign she was being watched.
There was no one, at least no one he could see.
Claire opened her mouth to speak, but the moment he was close enough to see her, he hugged her. The relief was almost crippling. “I was so worried about you,” he breathed out.
It was nothing like the last time they’d hugged—she didn’t hold him back or bury her nose into his neck, she didn’t press her skin to his like she wanted to get as close to him as possible. She was rigid, a doll in his arms.
Her eyes were teary as he let go. Although it’d only been a few days, she looked thinner in the face, her cheeks sallow. Maybe he was imagining that.
“I’m okay,” she peeped, but her voice sounded hoarse. She refused to look at him, hiding her face in shame. Frustration slipped through his relief.
“So it’s true? You were fine this whole time? It was actually you who sent me that text?”
“Of course it was me… I just got back today… then people told me you had been looking for me… but I told you not to…”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“It hurt too much. I… couldn’t stand to hear your voice.”
“I was terrified. I thought something horrible happened to you. Why are you messing with me?”
Her gaze zapped to his. Her pupils were dilated in the yellowing wall light from the motel. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad, I’m trying to understand. I thought we had a perfect night together.
You told me all those things about your dad, then you disappeared.
What was I supposed to think?” Emotional, he took a step toward her, but resisted reaching out to grab her hands.
She felt more like a stranger now than she ever had.
“Claire, I wanted to be with you. You have to know that.”
“Dillon and I are engaged… I can’t do that anymore.”
“You don’t even like Dillon. What about all that stuff about your mom? About your dad torturing you?”
She swallowed. Averted her eyes. “I made it up.”
“You made it up.”
She trembled like a leaf. He’d dealt with some shit before, but this took the cake.
“Yeah, I don’t buy this.” He stepped closer to her to check her pulse. “What’d they do to you? Your pupils are huge. Are you on something?”
“No, nothing!” She jumped back before he could touch her.
“Seriously, it’s not like that. I wasted your time, and I’m sorry, truly, I am.
But—but my life has always felt so tiny.
I wanted it to be more exciting than it was, then you came to town and…
I wanted to be interesting. That’s why I made up that stuff about the cage.
And about my parents too. And everything about the drugs. None of it is true.”
He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to.