Chapter 33 Beckett
BECKETT
It’s been eleven days since Sloane’s attack. Eleven days of digging, eleven days of connecting dots, and eleven days of drawing lines that were never clear until now.
I know that I am coming at this from an emotional point of view because of what happened to Sloane, but things that were blurry in all the other files are now becoming clear—and the kid’s social media can’t just be a coincidence.
“Are you going to be ok here by yourself?” I ask Sloane as I stand up from my desk. She came in with me today. Yesterday she stayed home by herself for the first time, and this morning she drove herself here after she woke up.
“Yeah,” she whispers, not looking up from her phone. She also turned on her ‘work’ phone for the first time yesterday, and has been catching herself up on all the stuff she’s missed.
“Ok, I’ll be back in like an hour, Jones is right outside if you need anything,” I say, and she nods. I give Mocha a few head scratches before grabbing my vest and gun, before heading out.
“You ready?” I ask Diaz, the other lead detective. He nods, closing his computer and standing up from his desk. He grabs his stuff, and we head out to our undercover car.
“Alright, so what do we know?” he asks, as we start down the road. I pull out my laptop, connect it to the dashboard, type in my password, and pull up the files that I need.
“We know that he is twenty-six, that he lives in the area, and that he has a record of being a peeping Tom when he was in high school. There is a timeline that coincidentally connects his posts, the captions, and the hashtags to the days of which each girl has been suspected to be killed. He’s been in each girl’s comment section, harassing them; some of them called him out, and others did not. ”
“And Sloane?”
I grit my teeth. I’d scrolled through her account several times, and each time I found the same thing. “Yes, hers included.”
“I’ve had Danny following him; he spends a lot of time in his apartment. Mostly watching porn or jerking off to pictures of girls on social media. He has a job; he’s some kind of freelance video editor. But for the last few weeks, he’s just been home.”
“And you think that he met with Sloane, because she could be his next victim.”
I see red, but I have to keep my head on my shoulders properly. “I can’t say for sure, but the pattern he was following with the others seems to be similar to what he is doing for her.”
“Does she know about this?”
“I haven’t said anything, I don’t want to freak her out more than she already is.
It’s easier to have her come with me so I can see with my own eyes that she’s safe.
Plus, I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.
Now that I have a lot of things that connect, I want to give the case to you.
I’m way too close to be able to go about this in a way that won’t keep me out of trouble. ”
“You think it’s him,” he concludes, as we stop at a place for lunch.
“I think that he is involved for sure. I want to say that it is him, but I also don’t want my decision to be persuaded by what happened to Sloane,” I say. We get out of the car and walk into the burger place we picked, ordering at the front and picking a booth in the back corner.
“So what’s happening there anyway?” he asks, changing the subject and looking at me, borderline amused.
Arnold is a long-time friend of mine. He’s always hated Briar, so this would probably make him happy. I also know that I can trust him with this.
I run a hand down my face. I haven’t talked to anyone about what’s happening between her and me. I know it’s real. I don’t know if I’m ready for labels yet, but I need to say something to someone, and who better than the person sitting in front of me?
“I don’t even know where to begin,” Is all I have to say for him to go through a range of emotions. It starts with confusion, then morphs to interest, and finally, he settles on smug.
“Who would’ve thought?” he teases. I glare at him.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I clarify, taking a sip of my drink.
“Have you guys fucked?” he asks. I inhale my drink wrong, causing it to come out of my nose, and send me into a coughing fit.
“Jesus Christ, can you be any more blunt?” I say once I’m able to get air into my lungs, covering my mouth as he laughs at me.
“You know that I don’t beat around the bush,” he points out.
“Yes,” I say as the waitress puts our food down in front of us.
“Does Briar know?” he asks, picking up a fry and popping it into his mouth.
“Fuck no, I don’t even know what he’d do if he found out,” I say, running a hand through my hair again.
“Well, if this is serious, which I have the feeling that it is because you don’t fuck around, don’t you think that you should tell him?” he suggests, taking a bite of his burger. I know that he has a point. I pick up my burger as well and take a bite so that I can avoid answering right away.
He doesn’t make fun of me; he just lets me eat. He knows how hard it is for me to open up, so I’m grateful that he’s not making a big deal out of this, like I feel like I would have if the tables had been reversed.
“She’s supposed to go back to Raymor in a few weeks. I’m not really holding my breath on this working out once she’s gone,” I say with a small shrug, even though just thinking about it makes my chest ache in a way that I’ve never experienced before.
“Well, do you want her to stay?” he asks.
“It doesn’t matter what I want; she’s only twenty-one. She should get to enjoy college and do whatever she wants.”
“That’s not what I asked you. I asked if you want her to stay.” He calls me out, and I take another bite of my burger. He does the same, he lets me chew, his eyes sincere, telling me that he cares about my feelings. I wash the burger down with some water before letting out a sigh.
“Yeah, I do want her to stay,” I admit. Of course, I want her to stay.
I’ve never felt this way before. I never want her to leave, because I know if she does, then she’ll just move on, fall in love with someone who deserves her heart, and she’ll live a long life with whoever it is that she ends up finding.
“Then talk to her,” he says, as if I haven’t thought about it every day since I first kissed her.
“I can’t.”
“Why? Are you afraid that she’ll say no?”
“I’m afraid that she’ll say yes.”
He stares at me like I’m the dumbest person alive. Maybe I am, because I shouldn’t be scared of what I want coming true. I don’t want to be the reason that she never gets to experience what life outside of this stupid town looks like.
He looks at me for a long time. “It’s ok to want her, you know. To ask for things that are selfish,” he points out.
“Not like this. She deserves so much more than what I could ever offer her.”
“And what can’t you give that to her?”
“I don’t know. A long life, kids, I’m almost forty-three, I’m closer to retirement than she is to being my age. She deserves whatever she wants.”
“And you can’t give her what she wants?” He asks, ignoring the first part of my sentence.
“I want to, but I don’t deserve to be that person for her,” I say, taking a slow sip of my drink.
“Why not? Because you’re old or because you don’t fit the narrative that everyone tries to paint?
You deserve happiness, and if she gives you that, then I think you should try to keep it.
Who cares what everyone else thinks, including Briar?
I have never seen you like this before. You’re taking random days off work, for fuck’s sake, and you actually leave the station before dark.
I don’t know about you, but that seems like something worth fighting for. ”
“What if I can’t give her what she wants?”
“Have you tried asking her what that is? Because maybe it’s not what you think,” he points out.
I let out a defeated sigh, because he’s right—I haven’t asked her.
So technically, I don’t know what she wants or if I can give it to her.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m not saying you have to have that conversation right now, but sooner rather than later, would probably be a good idea,” he says, and I nod.
When I get back to the station, Sloane is asleep, Mocha watching over her.
The blanket is pulled up to her chin, her phone resting against the books as a movie plays.
I turn her phone off and take her shoes off before going over to my desk and getting back to work.
The first thing I do is send all the documents I have over to Arnold.
I work for a while longer, just doing some housekeeping things before closing my computer for the day. I find myself admiring her, the conversation from earlier just playing on repeat in my head.
I know that we need to talk about us. But I honestly don’t know how. I don’t know what to say to her.
Hey, I think that I’m in love with you. And even though you shouldn’t, I really think that you should stay here, let me take care of you, and not leave me in a few weeks.
No thanks.
“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she whispers. I shake my head of my thoughts, my eyes finding hers as she stretches and slowly sits up.
“It’s ok, I just got done, anyway,” I say with a small smile.
She nods, collecting her stuff before standing up and hooking Mocha to his leash. “Ready to go?” she asks with a yawn. I stand up wordlessly, grabbing my things before locking up my office and guiding her out.
“Can I ride with you?” she whispers, looking over at her car and then at my truck.
“Of course, we can come get it tomorrow.”
We drive in silence, the words that I want to say right on the edge of my tongue, but I can’t get them out, no matter what I tell myself.
“Did you have a good day?” she asks, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, I did. Did you?” I say, reaching over and taking her hand in mine.
She nods, and we fall back into silence for a few minutes.