Chapter 21
Link
The smell of a hospital attacks my senses as soon as we enter. Cassie suggested we go, and I couldn't say no, considering her argument that interviewing the second victim could give us insight into the case.
“So, you want to talk to her?” Cassie crosses her arms and stares up at me. She is still upset about me wanting to send her home. That's what I wanted, but it still hurts. If I wanted her running from town right now, all I'd have to do is tell her the truth about my deal with Phineas and just how involved I got with him. But I won't do that because, despite how much I want to believe, I don't care; what Cassie thinks of me matters to me.
If she ever finds out the truth about Phineas and my past, I'm not sure she'll ever look at me the same again.
“Lincoln?” she asks again.
I should question Cheryl, but I’m not feeling up to it. “Oh, no, why don't you go ahead and question her? She might be more open to talking to you since you're a woman and all that.”
It's all I can do to be in the hospital in the first place. Feelings hit me from every side as if my body is telling me I should turn and leave right then and there. Cassie leads the way down the hall toward the room where Cheryl, the second robbery victim, is staying.
By the time I catch up to her, she's already standing by Cheryl's bed.
“Can I ask you a couple of questions about what happened?” Cassie speaks in a tone much softer than anything she's ever used with me. Cheryl looks tiny and weak in the bed. The nervous way she glances at the door every few minutes shows that the robbery has shaken her. From the reports, she was pushed down the stairs. It’s surprising she doesn’t look worse.
“Are you going to find the people who did this? Young hoodlums think they can take whatever they want without any consequences. Someone's got to put a stop to it.” She shakes her head of white hair, fury burning in her eyes.
“We're going to do everything we can to figure out who did this,” Cassie continues soothingly.
“I can pay your fee, whatever it is. I would love to pay to see these criminals put behind bars.”
“Nonsense,” Cassie squeezes the old woman's hand. “You don't have to pay us a thing.”
I make a disapproving face, but either she doesn't see or care. I thought Cassie knew this wasn't a charity organization.
“What can you tell us about the people who grabbed you?”
“He thought the house was empty. When he saw me, he almost gave up on the whole thing, especially when I put up a fight.” Cheryl shakes her head. “Guess I didn't put up enough of a fight.”
“None of this is your fault,” Cassie's voice is calming. She sounds so reassuring that even I would have been convinced not to worry.
“He was wearing a ski mask and was young. Most likely my grandson's age.”
“How could you tell he was young if he wore a mask?” Cassie asks, leaning closer.
“He was lanky, sort of clumsy. You know the type. Besides, he moved like a young person, not old and blundering like myself, if you know what I mean.”
“Any other details you can remember?” Cassie prods further.
“I wish there was. I hope you find them.”
Cheryl's head falls back on the pillow, and she looks exhausted. “I think I'm going to get some rest now. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to come back. Heaven knows I could use the visitors.”
“I'll be back once we know who was responsible for the robberies so we can tell you personally that justice has been served.”
Cassie's words sound much too close to a promise. I learned long ago that making promises in this line of business is a bad idea. Cassie says goodbye to Cheryl while I rock back and forth on my feet, wishing our time at the hospital would end.
The familiar smells and sights bring back memories I'd like to keep buried. It's been a long time since I thought of my parents or how I lost them. Somehow, time goes on and dulls the pain, but going back to the place where they took their last breath makes it all the sharper.
“You grumpy because you didn't question Cheryl?” Cassie asks with a lilt in her voice. At least she is in a good mood, despite our earlier arguing.
“No, I just don't like hospitals.” That’s an understatement.
“That's right. I can't remember a single time you came with us to the hospital.” Cassie frowns as she realizes just how much I've avoided hospitals. “Why is that?”
“No reason I want to talk about.” I can immediately tell that is the wrong answer.
“Of course.” Her shoulders are different, and her voice tightens. “I'm getting used to you keeping all your secrets locked deep down inside.”
Pushing people away is something I do well. A little too well sometimes.
As we round the corner, I pull her toward the wall as I spot someone at the end of the hall—a man I tangled with a few months back when Phineas and I were in business. How is it that all the questionable people in my life are choosing now to make an appearance?
My arm goes around her waist as I press her against the wall. Maybe we can avoid detection if I make it look like we’re just another couple. As I lean in, I get so close that my lips are near her ear.
“What are you doing?” Her cheeks are bright red, and she’s breathless.
“Act natural; someone is watching us.” Looking around her, I can see the man in question, the Jackal, one of many men who would like me dead. His gaze sweeps the small waiting room, then travels down the hall as he walks closer.
“I can't look natural; this isn't natural.” Cassie's tone is heated, and I can't figure out if it's because she's truly uncomfortable or if she is enjoying this as much as I am. I allow myself to momentarily look away from the Jackal, my gaze falling on her. Her hair has started to break free from the bun at the back of her head. Little wisps frame her face. My eyes fall to her lips. One thing is certain: she's no kid anymore.
The Jackal gives up his search and disappears around the corner. Disappointment floods me as I push away from Cassie, immediately wishing the moment could have lasted longer.
She adjusts her shirt and puts distance between us, but I'm fairly certain she also wishes we could have stayed against that wall a little longer.
“Who was that?” She's looking me up and down as if I'm a stranger again. I wish I could be more than just a stranger or friend to her.
“No one you need to worry about.” She has no idea how much danger she's in by staying in town, but most of all by staying near me. There was a time in my life when I considered myself a stand-up guy, but bad choices and a lack of money can change a man.
Lines were crossed, and no matter how much I try to run in the other direction, I can't undo that, or the consequences that come with it.
I try to send her home despite how much I want her here. She chooses to stay for now, but even so, it doesn't make it any easier to see her in danger.
“What you mean is another thing you don't want to tell me about.” She crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at me. She's right. I like to keep things to myself, which is why it's ironic I'm writing a book about my private investigator experience. There are a lot of things that will never make it onto the pages of that book.
“What's next? Where are we going?” Changing the subject seems like an excellent strategy to keep her from continuing with the questions.
“Why don't you tell me? Seeing as I only have half of the information to work with.” Annoyance rolls off her in waves, which I like more than I should.
“Fine, I know a couple of young guys who would do absolutely anything for a bit of money. I have a feeling this is more than just a random robbery.”
“Let's go question them then.” She walks by me, her shoulder shoving into mine as she does. I chuckle, which is sure to annoy her further. There's something about when she's all fired up and determined not to let me bother her. Cassie can't stick around in town, but that doesn't mean we can't have some fun while she's still here.
Cassie
I can feel how hot my face is, which means it’s most likely also red. I hate it when my face gets red. It’s like my emotions are on display for everyone to see. Somehow, my acting skills escape me when it comes to a natural reaction. My back is straight as a board, and my shoulders tense. I refuse to look back to see if Lincoln is following me. He’s infuriating. I thought we managed to reach a partnership or agreement, yet he still insists on keeping dangerous secrets from the team. There’s no transparency, even though I’ve been honest about everything since I returned.
I can’t figure out if he’s doing it because he thinks he’s protecting Quinn and me or just intends to hide his past.
It wouldn’t surprise me, seeing that there seems to be more about his past than I ever could have imagined. My thoughts go back to our moment against the wall. I saw the man he was trying to avoid, but I was much more focused on how close he was. I hadn’t hated it; in fact, it was worrisome how much the opposite was true.
He shouldn’t be able to keep all the information to himself and then get away with calling the shots. I stop abruptly, turning on the spot. So quickly, he doesn’t have time to stop because he all but barrels into me. His arms go out, circling my waist for the second time today, keeping me from falling.
For the first time, I realize we are alone in the hallway, and my heart beats wildly against my chest. He stares into my eyes as if he can read every thought racing through my head. He leans in and comes closer. He is so near that I could push up on my tiptoes and kiss him.
“You all right?” He stares down at me, and my head spins.
What thoughts are going through his head? Is he thinking the same thing as me?
“I’m… fine.” My words come out breathlessly. He’s so close that I can feel his heart beating against mine.
I want him to kiss me.
He comes even closer as if he’s asking permission, giving me the option to back away and stop whatever is about to happen, but I don’t. I want to be close to him, and I’m tired of fighting it.
Movement blurs in front of me, and then he’s kissing me. My father’s friend, my partner, the man I’ve known for most of my life but also don’t really know, is kissing me.
We should stop. He should stop, and yet, my thoughts conflict with my body. Burning desire rips through me, and my arm wraps around his neck, pulling him closer.
This is inappropriate on so many levels. I move back, stepping away, breathless.
“Lincoln, we shouldn’t…”
“I’m sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair, embarrassment staunch on his face. “Goodness, I’m so sorry, Cassie.” His eyes are pools of blue, full of worry.
“It’s okay. Let’s go question the… um, guy you saw.” I turn and hurry toward the door, my head too confused over what happened to address it right now. In the car, the silence is suffocating. He looks upset, but I’m still thinking about everything I imagined since I first had a crush on Lincoln Suco happening in the hospital hallway. My heart is trying to fill my head with ideas of romance, the future, and all of my wildest dreams coming true. That’s not a reality with Lincoln. Even if he was the relationship type, which I know he’s not, he’s keeping things from me. There’s no telling how deep the deception runs. I’m not interested in a one-night stand or a little flame just to be tossed aside.
For some reason, my thoughts turn to Quinn and Phineas. She looked genuinely hurt in that laundromat. Maybe she thought Phineas actually cared about her in some sense of the word. To be used like that was painful.
Just like I was used and tossed to the side by everyone who promised me a bright future in Hollywood. I gave everything to my role on that show and Gary as my agent, but as soon as things looked rough for me, they forgot I existed.
Lincoln pulls up to what looks like a huge farmhouse. It’s a little out of town and seems abandoned. It’s hard to tell what sort of people live here.
“You coming in?” Lincoln looks at me, his expression still shuttered. Is he thinking about our kiss? Does he regret it? Perhaps he forgot who I was, and when he remembered who he was kissing, he wished it had never happened.
“Yeah, of course. We have a mystery to solve.” Or a couple, I think to myself, regarding Phineas and Lincoln. What would Dad have thought if he saw Lincoln and me kissing? I’m sure he would remind me that Lincoln is twelve years older than me and, therefore, shouldn’t be thinking of me that way. I wonder what it means that I want him to think of me that way.
“Listen, about earlier?—”
“You wanna talk about that now?” I raise my eyebrows at him and shake my head. I am not na?ve. I know nothing can happen between us. It’s all over his face. He leans toward me, closing the gap between us. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me again. Instead, he reaches over the seat and retrieves a T-shirt. He hands it to me with a chuckle.
“Well, if you don’t want to talk about it, at least put this over your shirt.”
“What’s this?” I wrinkle my nose at the grubby T-shirt.
“We won’t get answers from anyone with you dressed like a fashion princess.” He has his signature annoying smirk on his face, and I wish I could wipe it off.
“Are you serious? You want me to change?”
“Well, when you put it like that, you make it sound like I’m asking you to change your identity.”
“I’m not wearing this.” I toss the shirt in his direction.
“You are wearing it, or you’ll give this whole operation away. I have no idea who is in that house. We need to make them believe we are at least sort of on their side.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, challenging me to find a better reason why I won’t wear his silly T-shirt.
“Fine,” I groan. “I’ll wear it while we’re inside, not a second longer.”
“Heaven forbid you wear a poor person’s shirt any longer than necessary.” Lincoln rolls his eyes and looks out the window past me. “We really should talk about what happened earlier.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Pulling the shirt over my head, I realize it’s softer than I expected. It actually feels nice. As I turn to tell him I’m ready to go, I freeze just as a gun taps on the window. Lincoln’s expression falls as he turns to see who it is. I’ve never seen the man before, and I can’t tell from Lincoln’s expression if he has either.
“Play it cool,” he whispers. “It will turn out fine.”
I nod slightly as he rolls down the window a crack, enough for the man to shove the gun barrel through. He’s glaring at us as if he wishes he would have shot us on sight. He looks homeless, with a scruffy beard, unkempt hair, and tattered clothes.
“Took you long enough. Did you bring the money?” The man’s crazed eyes jump to me. “I told you to come alone, man. Who is the chick?”
“She’s no one, don’t worry about her. I’ve got the money. Where are the goods?”
The man pauses a moment longer and waves his gun around a bit more.
“You both know what happens if you snitch? This is a business deal. I don’t want no trouble.”
“Of course not.” Lincoln glances at me, his gaze indicating he wasn’t expecting any of this any more than I was. My father taught us to play along in the moment if it made sense. It seems that’s what we’re doing now. Hopefully, whatever this man wants to sell us has to do with the necklace, not something else potentially illegal.
“This your girlfriend?” The man surveys me as I step out of the car and join Lincoln on the other side of the car.
“Sure is.” Lincoln throws his arm around my shoulders as we head toward the house. Now that I’m taking a closer look at the house, I see that while it appears well-kept, it is actually abandoned. The grass is crooked like someone tried to trim it but left it completely uneven. Behind the house, the yard is overgrown and uncared for. We make our way up the steps and into the house. As the homeless-looking man opens the door, a light stench hits my nostrils. It smells like the place hasn’t been cleaned in a long time.
I frown as I spot a woman sitting in the spacious hallway. She has a trash bag overflowing with random items sitting beside her and a ratty coat around her shoulders. A squatter’s house. That is what this place is.
“I thought you said some young men who you thought fit Cheryl’s description of the criminals lived here.”
Lincoln leans his head closer as if he were simply getting closer to me as we walk. “To be fair, last time I was here, some young men were squatting here, the desperate type who would rob you for five bucks.” He pauses. “I’ve been thinking, at first, these jobs seemed organized. Then random and reckless. What if they’re both?”
“I don’t follow.”
The homeless man pauses in front of us, and we stop in our tracks. It seems we’re about to find out something. The question is, will it have anything to do with our case? And are the two cases connected?