18. Kennedy #2
So sorry for such a late response to your message. I meant to reply when I finished work yesterday, but there was a fire at one of the college residences, so I’ve been very busy helping students relocate/helping with the cleanup. Haven’t even slept yet.
Anyway, thanks for letting me know your answer. I completely understand that you’re not looking to date right now, and there’s no hard feelings on my end.
On another note, if you and your friend Freya are still interested in having me on the show to provide a professional opinion on the case, I’m still available for that, and I’ve already made several notes for a possible script. Just call/message to arrange.
- Jacob
When I looked up from my screen, Malachi was looking at me intently, brows furrowed. “Is it normal for him to text you at three o’clock in the morning?” he asked.
“No. Apparently there was a fire at CBU, so he was helping with that all day and night, and he only just got home.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Ah, okay. I was worried he was being inappropriate with you.”
“No, it’s fine. It was just a very late reply,” I said, setting the phone back down. “Did you end up looking into him?”
Malachi nodded. “We did, but no red flags popped. No criminal history, and he’s never had any ethics complaints lodged against him,” he said. “But it’s hard to verify what a person was doing ten years ago. Especially without letting the person know they’re being investigated.”
“Right.”
“Still, we didn’t see any reason to dig deeper. No red flags, like I said. But if I were you, I’d trust your gut. If it’s telling you to stay away from him, do it. Better safe than sorry.”
I shook my head. “I think I was overreacting about all that,” I said. “It just turned out he was interested in me. Like, romantically. So he’s not a crazy stalker-murderer, or anything like that.”
“Ah.” Comprehension dawned on Malachi’s handsome face. “I see.”
“Although…” I trailed off, brows rising. “I have a feeling that at least half of his interest is related to my proximity to the Carver case. In fact, right now he actually seems more interested in getting on the podcast than dating me.”
Malachi chuckled, head shaking. “Some people will do anything for their fifteen minutes of fame, right?”
“Yeah. And speaking of the podcast, have any of the tips panned out yet?” I asked.
Freya’s cousin had set up an automated system on our website that forwarded all tip submissions directly to Malachi’s department, per our informal deal with the police.
Freya and I still read every single message ourselves, but a lot of them needed someone with real investigative experience—and access to law enforcement databases—to properly follow up.
“There hasn’t been anything useful yet,” Malachi replied, rubbing his jaw.
“A few more people have come forward to say they think they might’ve witnessed some of the victim abductions ten years ago, but they didn’t tell us anything new.
Just that the man who took them was tall and dressed in black. ”
“But at least it's working, right?” I said, voice rising hopefully. “People are sending in real tips? Not just trolls or desperate clout-chasers?”
“I’d say at least 90% of the tips are real. They’re just not particularly helpful. But there’s still a lot to get through, so here’s hoping.” He cocked his head. “Actually, now that you’ve mentioned trolls, I’m wondering… has anyone ever contacted you or Freya claiming to be the Carver himself?”
I felt a sudden vertiginous sensation, like I was tumbling backward off a cliff. Because I had been contacted. Not by a prank caller or some internet troll desperate for attention. By the real Carver.
But I couldn’t tell Malachi about that, because the Carver could be watching us through my bedroom camera right now.
Listening in on us. And if I mentioned the emails we’d shared, he could get angry.
Then he might escalate his crimes. Hurt another innocent soul much sooner than he initially intended.
I forced a steady breath, trying to keep my voice light as my heart thudded against my ribs. “You mean prank callers?” I asked, hoping the tremor in my words wasn’t obvious.
Malachi nodded. “Yeah. If you’ve had any, I was thinking that one of them could actually be real, because a lot of serial offenders like to insert themselves into investigations,” he said.
“It’s a power thing. They want to be seen, heard, known.
So it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he tried to contact either one of you.
But, because it’s such a wild claim to make, you might assume it’s a prank and disregard it. ”
“Well, we’ve had a couple of weird calls in the last week,” I said, trying to sound casual.
Normal. Not like my brain was on fire from all the lies and self-loathing curling inside it.
“But they were stupid enough to use caller ID, and when Freya tracked them down, it turned out they were just teenagers who thought it was funny to troll us.”
“Anything else?” Malachi asked. “Messages or emails to your personal accounts?”
A cold sweat broke out along the back of my neck as I considered my reply.
I wanted to tell him the truth so badly. But what would be the point? There was no way to trace the Carver's emails, because of the military-grade VPN, and the moment I said anything about our earlier exchange, he’d hear me, and then the situation would spiral into brutality very quickly.
“No,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
As I spoke, the weight of it all came crashing down on me. The lies. The secrets I was keeping. The stupid choices I’d made. The horrible, completely unforgivable mistake I made last night.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, tears welling up before I could stop them.
Malachi’s brows drew together. “Sorry for what?”
“Everything,” I choked out. “I just… I can’t stop feeling like I’ve made everything worse.”
With that, I broke down in front of him for the second time in twelve hours.
Tears streamed down my face, hot and fast, and I pressed my hands over my mouth to keep from sobbing out loud. Malachi moved closer, leaning in front of me with concern in his eyes.
“Hey. It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re under an insane amount of pressure. No one expects you to hold it together all the time.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t believe it. I didn’t deserve his comfort. Not after everything I’d done.
"It’s okay. Let it out,” he said softly, patting my arm as I tried to blink away another flood of tears. “I’m here.”
“Sorry. I just… I can’t stop thinking about that box from today,” I murmured.
“Stop apologizing. Seriously.” Malachi moved even closer. “You’re worried the hand belongs to your father, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I said in a tremulous voice. “Because all we know right now is that it’s a man’s hand. And there are three missing male victims. So there’s a one in three chance that it’s him.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this, because it’s not official yet,” he said. “Not until we get the DNA results back. But… I’m certain it’s not your father.”
My heart soared. “How do you know that?”
“Hand size is usually quite closely correlated with height, so the shorter a person is, the smaller their hands tend to be. And your father was— is —quite a small man, right?”
I nodded. “Five foot six.”
“I thought so. Do you remember what his hands were like?”
“Pretty small, like you said. He used to say that was what made him such a good surgeon,” I said, wiping my cheeks with my palm.
Malachi leaned in again. “When I unwrapped that foil today, the first thing that struck me about the hand was its size. It was huge . That’s why I was instantly sure it belonged to a man,” he said.
“Anyway, because of the size, I’m certain that it came from a much bigger man than your father.
Silas Boone is listed at six-five, and Brian Delgado at six-two. ”
I blinked. “So… it’s one of them?”
“Most likely, yes.”
More tears welled up in my eyes, but this time they were tears of relief. “So my dad is still alive,” I choked out. “He’s still out there.”
“From what we can gather, yes. Obviously, we don’t know where, exactly, but we’re quite certain that he’s still alive.”
“You’re right. You have to be,” I whispered, letting the relief flood my veins with much-needed warmth. “He’s alive. He’s out there. I… I know it.”
Malachi nodded and lay a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Take a deep breath and say it again.”
I sucked in a shaky breath and lifted my chin. “My father is still alive. He’s out there somewhere. We just need to find him in time.”
“Again.” He thumped a fist against his broad chest. “Say it with your whole chest. More confidence.”
“My father is still alive,” I said, lifting my chin higher. “And you’re going to find him and bring him back before it’s too late.”
“ We’re going to do it. Together. Right?”
“Yes. We’re going to bring him back.”
“Good girl.” Malachi rubbed my shoulder. “Feeling any better?”
“Yes. That actually really helped.” I exhaled deeply. “But… I feel bad for being glad it’s someone else’s hand. Because that person still died. I shouldn’t be happy about that, should I?”
“Kennedy, it’s a natural response to prioritize your own family over others. You’re not a bad person for being grateful that it wasn’t your dad.”
You only think I’m not a bad person because you don’t really know me, I thought, stomach flipping as I remembered the words he’d murmured to me a moment ago. I’m not a ‘good girl’ at all.
Malachi’s eyes flicked to my clock. “I should probably let you get back to sleep,” he said. “It’s very late.”
I nodded and slid lower beneath my blankets. “Thanks for the chat. It was… nice. In spite of everything.”
“Yeah.” He smiled faintly and leaned down. “Let me just grab this for you.”
One of my pillows had started to slip down the side of my bed. He retrieved it for me, and as he leaned in to tuck it under my head, all I could think was: God, he smells good. Like spicy cologne, clean cotton, and something undeniably masculine.
“Thanks,” I murmured.
“You’re welcome.” He drew back and began to turn away, the warmth of his presence lingering. “Sleep well.”
“Wait… sorry. One more thing.”
Malachi turned back to look at me, brows drawn in a quizzical expression. “Yeah?”
“I know you can’t share all the details of the investigation with me, but could you at least tell me if you’re close to catching the Carver?” I asked, skin prickling with anticipation.
His shoulders slumped slightly, and he shook his head. “We don’t have a suspect in mind yet. So no, we aren’t close,” he said. “But we are going to get him, whoever he is. My team is working day and night.”
“Okay,” I said softly.
He scooted a little closer. “I know you’re worried about it, and you’re worried about your own safety, too. But that’s not necessary,” he went on. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. In fact, no one will even come close to touching you as long as I’m around. Okay?”
I nodded. “Thank you, Malachi,” I said, voice barely above a whisper.
He was so close now. Too close. I could see every bit of the faint stubble lining his jaw, the crease between his brows, the soft flicker of something unspoken in his green eyes. And I knew for sure I wasn’t just imagining the tension stretching between us.
He reached up, like he was going to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, but his fingers hovered for a beat too long. My breath caught, and I saw the exact second he decided not to pull away.
His kiss was soft and hesitant at first. A question, not a demand.
But then his lips pressed more firmly to mine, and I kissed him back, hands gripping the sides of his face to pull him even closer. Because how could I not? He was everything I needed right now. Strong, solid, protective.
And yet...
Guilt surged in my chest, sharp and sudden. What if the Carver was looking at us through the camera right now? What if he got jealous over me kissing another man? What if that jealousy turned to rage, and that rage turned into violence against Malachi?
I couldn’t bear that. Couldn’t bear knowing a good man got hurt because I couldn’t keep my hands or lips to myself.
Even worse was the shame suddenly curling hot and vile in my gut, because some sick, twisted part of me felt like I was actually cheating on the Carver. Cheating on a man I didn’t even know. A man who’d murdered multiple innocent people.
I pulled away, my breath ragged. “Sorry, I can’t,” I muttered.
Malachi jerked back. “No, I’m sorry,” he said, running a hand over his mouth as if he were trying to erase the moment. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s not right.”
My heart clenched. “It’s not that I didn’t want to. I did. I do. I just…”
He shook his head and cut me off. “No, Kennedy. This is on me,” he said, rising to his feet. “I’m supposed to be protecting you. Not taking advantage of you while you’re in a vulnerable state.”
“You weren’t taking advantage,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s just… we probably shouldn’t do it. Not with everything that’s going on right now.”
He nodded and stood, dragging a hand through his hair. “Try to get some rest. You need it.”
I nodded and lay back against the pillow he’d tucked beneath my head, my lips still tingling with the ghost of his kiss while shame and fear tangled in my chest like thorns.
Malachi lingered a second longer, like he wanted to say something else. But then he turned and stepped out of the room, softly closing the door behind him.
Breathing deeply, I stared up at the ceiling, trying to shake the crawling sense that the Carver was looking at me right now. I also tried not to think about how badly I’d wanted that kiss with Malachi.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget the way it felt… or the way it made me wonder whose side I was really on.