14. Chapter 14
I hate myself.
I did exactly what I told myself I wouldn’t do, and I took my messed-up headspace out on Willow. I’m so fucking ashamed of myself I can hardly look in the mirror. She didn’t deserve that, and even when she was patient and knew something was wrong, I pushed her away instead of leaning into her and talking. It’s not like I don’t know she would listen because I know for a fact she would be the best listener. But I’m stuck in my old ways and don’t know how to break free.
It feels like I need to resolve all my shit before I can talk to Willow about what’s in my head. I don’t want to poison her with my failures.
This is exactly why I didn’t get close to people, why I moved to small-town U.S.A. and forgot about the life I once lived.
Because I hurt people.
And hurting Willow is like stabbing myself in the eye with an ice pick. But I don’t fucking know how to fix it.
After I left her place, I walked home. I tried every trick in the book to sleep, but nothing was working.
I’ve been pacing my apartment ever since, and now it’s time to go work and I’m not in the fucking mood. I’m super tempted to call Brittany and ask her to cover for me, which I have never done before.
But I don’t because the distraction might do me good.
Hopping into a cold shower, I rinse up then quickly change before heading downstairs and starting work on the pastries I make daily.
The monotonous work only allows me more time to think.
About Willow.
About Tennison.
About how I’ve fucked up my life.
About how it’s nothing like I had imagined it would be.
I mean, I’m thirty-seven fucking years old, and it feels like I’m starting over. Because that’s exactly what you did.
“You sure are thinking hard over there.”
Brittany’s voice surprises me so much that I dump half the lemon curd I was making onto the stove.
“Shit, sorry. I called your name, like, four times.” She cringes as I start cleaning up, hurrying over to help.
“Not your fault, Britt.” My voice is gritty from the lack of sleep.
“You okay, boss? You can take the day off, you know. You’ve set up for the day. I can handle it from here.”
“I’m good. Thank you, though.”
She eyeballs me as she finishes wiping down the counter.
“I’m good, I swear.” I’m not good, but I refuse to show weakness to anyone.
The next hour goes quickly, finishing up prep before opening up the doors. The big rush in the morning proves to be more challenging than usual. I can’t tell if it’s my attitude or if there’s something in the water, but everyone I talk to has some sort of attitude, and when it finally dies down, I head back to my office for a break.
“Seriously. Go home.” Brittany follows me back.
I sigh. “So I was the problem?”
She winces. “Kind of. We all have off days, though. I can handle it from here. Go take a nap, or work out, or whatever it is you do when you aren’t here.”
Fuck Willow,my thoughts immediately fill in for her, but then I remember last night.
“Alright, you win. But call me if you need help. I mean it.” I point my finger at her.
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, boss,” then turns and walks out the door, heading out to run the shop I’m incapable of running right now.
Dropping my head into my hands, I let the weight of the past twenty-four hours rest on my shoulders.
A workout. I need a workout. Not that it ended so great yesterday, but maybe if I go back to my default before I started hanging out with Willow, my head will work itself out.
Before Willow.My chest clenches painfully, and I move my hand to run over it.
Yeah, a workout is needed. I waste no time, running upstairs to change before heading out the back and out to the park. I debate texting Lennox again but decide against it.
Instead, I pull out my phone and call the last person I expected, but it somehow feels like the right move.
“To what do I owe this shocking turn of events?” Kellen Woodcroft says as a greeting.
“Why did you really contact me and bring me up to speed with the Tennison case?” I ask. It’s something that’s been nagging in the back of my mind. They left me alone for an entire year. And then out of the blue, he comes to visit and gives me information about the case? It doesn’t make sense. He shouldn’t be talking to me about any aspect of the case.
“Shit, man,” he curses, and it’s more telling than anything.
“What did you leave out when you came here?” There has to be more.
“Tennison switched things up when you left the force.”
“Switched things up how?” I’m leisurely walking a trail, but my heart rate speeds up like I just sprinted a couple of miles.
“Captain doesn’t want me telling you,” he says quietly.
“Fuck the captain! If it has something to do with me, then I have a fucking right to know, Kellen.”
Panicked. That’s how I feel right now. Worried that I somehow triggered Tennison in a way none of us expected. I’ve taken care to avoid news surrounding him because I wanted to completely separate myself from the case, but now it feels like a potentially fatal move.
“Fuck. Please don’t freak out.”
“Too late,” I mutter, feeling my palms starts to sweat.
“He’s leaving calling cards.”
“Calling cards?” I ask, confused. He’s never left calling cards outside of the brand he leaves on victims.
“He … he’s been leaving oak leaves … in the cuts of the victims.”
I stop in my tracks and instantly feel nauseous.
“He started shortly after you left, but we didn’t see the pattern, so he made it more obvious. Once we realized what it was, he just kept to that method.”
I bend over and dry heave, slamming my eyes shut at the images bombarding my brain.
“Then he started traveling outside of his usual haunts. And it seems like he’s taking a direct path to you.” He says it so quietly I almost miss it over the pounding in my head.
“How?” I barely gasp out.
“I don’t know, man. I’ve been working nonstop on this, and I can’t fucking figure it out. I don’t know how he’s doing any of this, or how he knows where you are. I don’t fucking know.” The pain in his voice is familiar. It’s a helpless pain—constantly seeing your failures in the most gruesome way imaginable. He’s where I was a year ago, and I suddenly feel selfish to have left it all to him.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp out, trying to get enough oxygen in my body.
“No! Jesus fuck, Oak, this isn’t on you. This is one hundred percent on Tennison. I just have no idea how to stop the fucker, and it’s eating me alive.”
“And now he’s coming after me,” I gasp out. The panic attack is taking hold before I have time to even realize it or try to combat it.
“We don’t know that.” He says the words but doesn’t believe them.
A humorless laugh escapes me through the gasping breaths. I lie down on the trail, trying to gain some stability. The rough rocks stabbing me in the back give me something to focus on.
“Oak, listen to me. This is not on you, and I will catch this motherfucker no matter what it takes. I just wanted you to be vigilant without telling you all of this. I know he’s messed with your head.”
“And now he’s getting to you,” I tell him as my breathing starts to regulate. I shift on my back, causing more pain, but it stabilizes my thoughts more.
“Well, he’s going after my best friend, so fuck yeah, he’s getting to me.”
We both are silent for a couple of minutes, both in our heads.
“How the fuck do we get him?” I whisper.
“I don’t know, man. I can’t figure out his pattern. And now that he’s on the move, which he never has done before, there are too many factors. I’m fucking scared, Oak.” His voice is barely above a whisper.
“Me too, Wood.” I want to be able to say more, but I can’t. Because I already failed. I’ve wracked every corner of my brain to try to figure out this fucker, but I just can’t. The worry now is that he’s moving toward Texas, and there’s too much that can happen.
“Please keep me updated on any movements.” It’s the only thing I can offer right now. Besides the panic attack creating a fog all around me, I can’t commit to helping or even working on the case. I want to help Kellen, but I just can’t.
“I will. I’ll catch him, Oak. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll catch him.” It’s a promise he can’t make. We both know it, but he says the words anyway. It’s no comfort to either of us.
I hear a rustle on the trail and try to perk up, but I’m sluggish.
“I’ll talk to you later, Wood. Keep me updated please.” I hang up without another word, just as a huge body comes out of the woods.
I shield my eyes against the midday sun and see Lennox dressed in his usual Park Ranger uniform. And he looks fucking pissed.
“How much of that did you hear?” I don’t bother beating around the bush, letting out a sigh and collapsing back on the trail, a rock digging into my back again but I don’t bother to move it. It helps me feel something, anything.
“Enough to know that you aren’t a fucking chef from New York.”
I struggle to sit up but don’t move to stand up. I know from past experience that I’ll just fall right over if I try it so soon after a panic attack.
“You wanna sit for this?” I ask.
“No.”
Awesome.
“My name is Oakley, James Oakley, and I used to be a U.S. Marshal, mostly working on the Fugitive Task Force.”
The color drains from his face, and shocked features take over the angry ones.
“I worked lead on the Tennison Strangler case,” I tell him point-blank. He knows this area better than anyone in town. It’s wise to fill him in so he can also keep an eye out.
“Holy shit,” he mutters before plopping down next to me.
“Yeah.” I don’t want to, nor can I tell him details of the case.
“Is that who you were talking about coming after you?”
I close my eyes, trying to figure out what I can actually tell him that isn’t classified. Kellen breaking the rules for me is different than me breaking the rules for a civilian.
“There is … concern that he’s travelling closer to this area.” I keep it vague, knowing Lennox will read between the lines.
“Shit.”
“Yeah. I need to ask you something I have no right to ask.”
He turns his gaze to mine, and I see a resolution in his.
“I need you to stay hyper-vigilant. Not just keep an eye on things but look for anything that looks out of place. You know this area, and you’ll notice things better than I ever could.”
“Done.” Just like that. Done. No question, no panic, and nothing taken out on me like I expected. I brought this shitstorm here; I deserve a lot more than his ire.
We sit like that, just lost in our thoughts for a few minutes. When my head finally feels clear, I attempt to stand up and only stumble once before I find my footing.
“Woah, man, you okay?”
“Yeah, just the aftermath of a panic attack.” I try to go for nonchalance, but he sees right through it.
Concern takes over his face as he steps closer to me.
“I’m fine now, I promise. Just the conversation you overheard shocked the shit out of me, and where Tennison is involved, it usually means bad news for me even if I’ve been out of the game for over a year.”
“You know, you can talk to me if you need to. I assume there is stuff you can’t actually talk about.” I smile at his knowledge. “But I work in a fucking national park and talk to animals all day. Your secrets and struggles are safe with me.”
His pointed stare when he says “struggles” doesn’t go unnoticed. Somehow, just the offer makes me feel a little lighter. I’m not sure if I’ll ever take him up on the offer, but I do appreciate his support regardless.
“Thanks, man.” I give him a nod, then awkwardly start to step back in the direction of town. “Well, I better check on Britt and make sure the shop didn’t burn down.” I let out a half-assed chuckle, and he gives me a knowing smile in return.
“Next day off is Wednesday if you want to get your ass kicked again,” he calls as I get further away.
“You’re on.” I turn completely and make the walk back to Grind Time. The talk with Woodcroft, now that my panic has subsided, is front and center in my mind. I want to sit down and see if, after some time away, I can figure out any pieces of the puzzle that is Alfred Tennison.