Chapter Twenty-Two
When Morgan Finch returned home from work the following day, for the first time in what felt like a long time, Lee was not there in the hallway to greet her with an inquisition.
Instead, she had just exited the shower, wrapping a towel around her body as she dried her hair with another.
An orange dress lay upon the heated towel rack ready for her to put on in preparation for a dinner reservation with Diana.
It wasn’t something she or Morgan could necessarily afford, especially as their rent had only recently gone up, but Morgan’s mother had become increasingly persistent about spending more time together, and, after private discussions with Morgan about Diana, they both agreed that the fundamentals of Diana’s work, combined with her acquired-taste personality, had resulted in her having very few friends to spend time with.
This was something Lee Holmes would no longer complain about, despite her finances, or her common distaste for spending time with Morgan’s mother.
She wouldn’t complain, because Morgan had told her only a few weeks ago that she had felt bad that Diana had few people in her life to mingle with, and that the both of them could be a nice, welcomed distraction for her.
If Morgan could think and say these things, and have empathy for another human being, even if it was her own mother, it was comforting. It settled Lee more and more into the notion that her girlfriend wasn’t missing the part of her that made her feel things.
Morgan entered the apartment, followed by the bathroom just as Lee had finished drying herself, placing the towel on the heated radiator in favor of her matching underwear combo.
Her girlfriend was in her construction gear; a high visibility jacket and baggy brown cargo pants that were slightly too big for her.
Her hair was pushed back, messy, and caked in dust and sweat.
“Looks like I got home right on time,” Morgan said, a smirk lighting up her features as she edged closer towards Lee, extending a hand out in front of her in order to stroke her bare waist.
Lee laughed, retracting Morgan’s hand as she did so in order to put her underwear on. “You can look but not touch,” she said, as she pulled up her underwear over her legs. “You barely have enough time to get ready let alone do anything else.”
“I only need five minutes,” Morgan said, exchanging her previous smirk for a grin now, as she took off her high-vis jacket, exposing her dirty white T-shirt underneath.
Shaking her head, Lee wrapped her arms around her back and clipped her bra on. “If you think I’d be willing to give you those five minutes after I’ve just showered when you look…like that…” she said, gesturing to all of Morgan with her hand. “Then you need your head examined.”
“Noted,” Morgan laughed. She pulled her white shirt off, discarding it to the floor, revealing her torso, still bruised, underneath. Her cargo pants followed shortly afterwards, and Lee took her girlfriends disrobing as her cue to exit, grabbing her dress from the towel rack.
Upon entering the hallway, she looked down at the floor, and smiled, before throwing the dress she was once holding towards it. She turned back around towards the bathroom, took off her underwear, and entered the shower for the second time that day.
Lee Holmes did everything in her power to tune out the phone conversation that Morgan was currently having in the bedroom with her mother, Diana.
It worked to some extent in the respect that she only heard the occasional words or phrases such as “understand,” or “don’t worry.
” What she couldn’t do, however, was stifle the inner dialogue of her mind, telling her that Diana had discovered something about the both of them that would shatter her world.
Upon Morgan re-entering the room, offering a half-smile in Lee’s direction, she allowed herself an exhale as she sank into the couch; an act she hadn’t been able to commit to in their living room for over a week, her mind and body still repellent of the idea of even occupying the space.
As a result of their proximity now, she could hear the entirety of Morgan’s side of the conversation, stifling her inner dialogue entirely.
“Honestly, it’s fine, Mom. What you’re doing is far more important. It’s not like we never see each other. Just don’t stress, okay?” Morgan said, her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she searched around the living room, for what, Lee was unsure. “I’ll talk to you later, love you.”
Shifting forwards in her seat, Lee observed her girlfriend removing the couch cushions beside her, followed by looking underneath the coffee table, huffing at every interval.
“Lose something?” Lee asked, a half-smile reaching her own features now at the notion that everything was fine, for starters, whilst also relishing in the normality of her girlfriend’s disorganized nature.
Morgan barely acknowledged Lee as she spoke. “The television remote, we need it, like…immediately,” she said, her head turning from left to right as she searched, not looking at Lee for a second. “Oh, and by the way, my mom cancelled our dinner plans.”
Lee began to laugh slightly now, feeling more comfortable by the second knowing that Morgan’s priorities were focused more on watching the television and less on the possibility of being caught.
“I figured,” she said, standing up now herself in order to begin searching alongside Morgan, checking behind the couch initially, followed by underneath it.
“Why do we need the TV remote all of a sudden?” she continued, still crouched down.
Morgan halted her search for a moment, addressing Lee directly as she stood up once again.
“It would be easier to just show you,” she said, looking Lee in the eye for a fraction of a second before her own eyes lit up as she made her way over to the couch for a second time, this time removing the cushion Lee was sitting on minutes prior.
“Voila!” she said, upon finding the remote, before immediately switching on the television whilst they both sat down.
Lee’s eyes found Morgan’s side profile as she sat to the left of her on the couch, the woman’s eyes facing forward, focused only on the television as she opened the electronic television guide, flicking through with one of the buttons on the remote.
Turning her own head now, Lee looked at the television, and felt the impact of an invisible force hit her square in the jaw when the channel Morgan settled on was a news one.
Just like a real punch, the feeling settled gradually as the television depicted scenes that made sense to neither her, nor Morgan.
Placing the remote control on the coffee table now, Morgan wrapped an arm around Lee and sank into her, allowing Lee to settle further into the feeling of being comfortable, and less on high alert.
She settled for a moment or two, but only a moment or two.
The moment passed when a photo of a man illuminated the screen, and the atmosphere in the room changed completely, as if the invisible force that had hit her had just pushed her head underwater and she had suddenly forgotten how to hold her breath.
Her hands lay at her sides, fists clenched, whilst the television spoke.
Police are looking for a Mr Arthur Strickland, male, mid-fifties, in relation to an ongoing investigation. His last-known location was at Tony’s Garage, his place of work, however, it is now believed that he returned to his place of residence only yesterday evening.
Lee leaned over Morgan’s body, retrieving the remote from the coffee table. She adjusted the volume on the television, turning it up a few notches whilst the news anchor continued.
CCTV footage last places him at Tony’s Garage on the 8th of September, days after a known acquaintance of his, Edward Beckett, was also confirmed to be missing.
Police now suspect that the cases may be connected.
After new evidence has come to light, Arthur Strickland is now believed to be dangerous.
If you have any information as to the disappearances of both Arthur Strickland, or Edward Beckett, please contact the authorities immediately.
The screen illuminated a photo of Edward Beckett; a recent photo that highlighted, at least to Lee, how alive he had once been. His eyes, once open, like in the photo, would never be opened again.
Without warning, Lee expelled herself from the sofa much like a bullet out of a gun as she made a beeline for the bathroom, making it to the toilet only seconds before she emptied her stomach.
When the nausea had cleared, she leaned against the bathtub, her head falling back as she stared at the water-stained ceiling above.
Morgan was presently perched on the toilet with the seat down, leaning forward now as she stroked her hair, calmly.
“I’ll be right back, okay? I’m just going to get you some water. ”
When she took her leave, Lee Holmes exhaled every last morsel of air out of her lungs.
She could tell, before even discussing what they had witnessed, that Morgan was feeling more relieved as the minutes passed, accepting that their plan had worked, or at the very least, the fundamentals of the plan was beginning to come to fruition.
Lee wanted to feel the same way, she truly did, and yet, when she closed her eyes, she could only see the man they tore apart bit by bit, piece, by piece.
Morgan Finch entered the bathroom just as Lee had made the decision to attempt to stand.
With one hand, she held out the glass, supporting Lee with the other.
“Thanks,” Lee said, taking a sip of the cool water, and then another sip, and then another until she had downed the entire glass, placing it on the sink upon doing so.
“Fuck,” Morgan said reasonably quietly, shaking her head as she placed a single hand in her hair, moving her fingers around to create a wild look about it.
“They’re not saying it in as many words on the news, but according to my mom, they like Arthur Strickland for the murder of Edward Beckett, with or without a body.
They’re conducting a full search on Arthur’s house as we speak.
I feel like we just shot an arrow in the dark and got a bullseye.
It was almost too easy. It doesn’t feel right. ”
Lee Holmes shook her own head now; her eyes focused solely on Morgan as she spoke. “No,” she said, sternly. “No. We get to exhale, now. We have to assume that we did everything we needed to do in order for our plan to come to fruition. Otherwise, we will both drive ourselves crazy.”
Lee wasn’t entirely sure who she was trying to convince at that moment in time.
She knew the pair of them had been meticulous in their plan, and yet, there would likely always be a part of her that would never feel weightless again, like holding a mask she would never wear. Or at least, never wear again.
The fact of the matter was that the police would never find a body, at least, if Lee and Morgan had truly been as careful as she thought. Would the newly-bloodied drivers license truly be enough to put the matter to bed?
“I know, I know,” Morgan replied, holding up her hands, now.
“But you have to admit, it’s wild, right?
It feels like we’re the villains in a cartoon, and the entire episode we’re thinking that we might actually win this time, only we don’t.
Because…the villains never do. And yet, we have. We did what they couldn't.”
“We are not the villains,” Lee hissed, like a snake out of venom.
Even as the words left her mouth, Lee was unsure as to whether she meant them or not.
She wondered at present time if Morgan had ever faced the same internal battle she had been facing ever since she had disposed of Edward Beckett.
She hoped that the answer was yes, if only so that she could acknowledge that all of the parts inside Morgan were working as they should be—to know that she wasn’t simply in love with a clock missing its ability to tick.
Morgan placed a calloused hand upon Lee’s arm, gentle, and steady. “You’re right,” she said, relatively quiet. “I shouldn’t have worded it that way and I’m sorry. Lee, you are the kindest, purest soul I know. I never want you to feel like any part of you is bad, unless that part of you is me.”
And just like that, with a gentle touch, and a few spilled words, the sound Lee had been dying for was right against her eardrums, and she could hear it as clearly as ever. Tick, tick, tick.