Chapter 6 Chase
As I wait at a bistro table for Brax, I take in the light green tables and white chairs vacant around me. Lottie’s Scoops has been a Huxley Bay landmark for years.
The muted blue-green and lilac tones on the outside wall of the parlor has been touched up recently, giving it a smoother and cleaner look, but it’s the same paint from when the store opened over sixty years ago.
I love that years have passed, people have come and gone from Huxley Bay, a town that has evolved over time, but the one thing that’s remained the same is Lottie’s.
The golden bell over the door jingles.
Nelly, a regular server, walks out backward with a tray in her hand.
She sets it down on the round table and puts one M&M Mayhem in front of me, the other across from me for Brax.
Of course there are more than just M&M’s decorating his ice cream.
He’s a sucker for toppings, and I count at least five different ones in his container.
“Detective Langford doesn’t mess around when it comes to ice cream.” Nelly chuckles as she pushes her round frames up her crooked nose before she heads back inside.
The small candies in my ice cream sundae sink into the creamy texture, and the color of the chocolate’s outer shell bleeds into the vanilla, like watercolor fusing together.
My mind goes back to the day I was here with Elliot—the day he died. I think back to our conversation about the rehab facility we had.
“So, tell me about Healing Wings?” I ask.
“I thought the name was stupid at first, but then I heard the story about how the organization got their name, and it just really spoke to me,” Elliot says as he looks down at his wrist tattoo of wings that appear a few years old now.
“Tell me,” I say encouragingly.
“The idea is that everyone’s born with wings and can fly away to do whatever they want in life.
Sometimes people get lost and end up on a dark path, but it’s not because their wings are broken.
This place helps you heal the wings you already have, that you can still use if you accept what you’ve done and believes you can make better choices without needing a new set to start over or forgive yourself. ”
After the crash, I replayed that day repeatedly. The details of that conversation didn’t align with everything I’d heard about him before he came back to town. Something didn’t add up—and I couldn’t shake it.
Not long after my seventh regular season had started last year, I met a girl named Laurel. She was wasted, stumbling out of a bar into the cold weather.
I couldn’t leave her there.
I helped her get sober, and then she told me why she turned to the bottle. Her ex had gotten mixed up in drugs and left a bag of them in the back of her car before he disappeared.
My heart sank like a fucking stone when she showed me the picture of her ex.
It was Elliot.
My brother.
I didn’t tell Laurel that. She didn’t seem to know we were related.
So, I did the only thing I thought I could. I took her to the airport, gave her enough money to get out of Huxley Bay, and told her never to come back. That she was better off without Elliot and his mess in her life.
Then I told Brax everything. He asked me where the bag of drugs was and said he’d take care of it. And he had. I didn’t ask how, but I guess a detective has his ways.
Elliot showed up in Huxley Bay a week or two later but never said anything about Laurel or the drugs.
I texted Brax, telling him I felt off, that perhaps Laurel had lied about everything because Elliot seemed to be doing well. But also, she didn’t ask me for anything, and the money I gave her wasn’t a huge amount. I couldn’t understand what her motive was, especially since I hadn’t seen her again.
It wasn’t until after Elliot died that Brax told me my “off feeling” forced him to look into Laurel. He learned she and Elliot met at Healing Wings.
Since that day, everything we’ve learned has created nothing but confusion.
Brax’s voice fades in from the distance, and I look up to find him walking over to me, phone pressed to his ear.
“Look, buddy, we talked about this. I need you to cooperate with your mom, okay?” Brax says to his son.
I get the gist of the conversation in a few beats. As usual, Roman’s begging his dad to come get him from his mom’s. Emma’s cooking spaghetti, and he hates it because pasta resembles worms drowning in blood. He has quite the imagination, our Roman.
“You’ll be home in a couple of days, and we can go to Tuck’s Taco Truck, yeah?” Brax says with all the tenderness in the world. “And when you’re back, we can get that new shadow game you’ve been talking about,” Brax says and then chuckles. “Right. Return of the Shadow Gargoyle.”
On the outside, Brax has a hard exterior. He has to be at least six-foot-six, his hair and eyes competing for darkness. Tattoos cover his arms, and his muscular frame glows with a natural, burnished tan.
Apart from the ladies, most people cower when they see him. His exterior can come across quite intimidating, especially when he’s in work mode. However, when it comes to his five-year-old son and his friends, he’s a giant teddy bear.
The tall, tattooed single dad that is grumpy 99 percent of the time hates attention but attracts it from women whenever he goes out.
“So, what’s the verdict?” I ask him when he hangs up after saying bye.
“He’ll eat the worms,” Brax says, dunking his spoon in vanilla ice cream and candy.
I roll my eyes and shove a spoonful of the creamy texture into my mouth before saying, “I’m thrilled, but that’s not what I meant.”
He pins me with a cutting look, spoon in his mouth, and I immediately wince, earning me a snort and a head shake—a classic Braxton Langford response.
“It’s an off-the-books investigation, Chase,” he mutters, his voice tightening like the air around us. “You understand that, right?”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“My sergeant’s the only one who knows, and Harrison has sanctioned it, but that means I can’t go public. I can’t request reports, pull old case files, or leave a trail. I have to work this quietly—discreetly.”
I get right to the point, picking up where my thoughts left off.
“The bag of drugs Elliot left with Laurel, we know it belonged to The Octopus. How are we supposed to unravel how my brother got himself tangled up with one of the biggest drug cartels in the country when you don’t have access to half the resources you normally would? ”
Brax’s eyes level with mine. “You need to be patient.”
Easier said than done.
The symbol of The Octopus… It’s not a mark a person forgets.
Brax showed me a photo once, the curving arms, the spiral ends that seemed to reach out from the plastic wrapped around the drugs looked alive.
The Octopus was a name whispered in dark corners of the streets, feared by everyone.
No one had seen him. No one knew his real name.
But everyone knew his drugs—every corner, every city, every alley.
And if you crossed him? You didn’t just disappear. You were erased.
Sometimes I can still feel the chill that ran up my spine the day Brax told me that’s who Elliot was involved with.
“Elliot was gone for years, Chase,” Brax says. “He left Huxley Bay when you were seventeen. There’s so much about his life between then and when he died that we don’t know.” Brax’s words are honest and real.
That’s what I hate.
“We have nothing but what Laurel told you, and her story doesn’t match up to The Octopus’s MO.
Elliot’s normal behavior when he came home is why you started to question Laurel’s story in the first place,” Brax reminds me.
“At the moment, the only person who can tell us the truth is her. And I haven’t been able to find her since you gave her that money to leave town. ”
“Well, maybe Marcus, their friend from Healing Wings, can tell us more about Elliot and Laurel. He should be here any minute,” I say, looking down at my watch.
“Chase?” I lift my head and examine the person that calls out to me, standing a few feet away from the table Brax and I are sitting at.
The man is a little shorter than me with jet black hair, brown eyes, and a crooked jaw.
Brax and I stand to greet him, taking turns shaking his hand and introducing ourselves.
“Elliot always said Lottie’s Scoops was the best ice cream parlor around,” Marcus says as he looks the building up and down while sitting next to Brax. “I was very sorry to hear about the accident. Elliot was a true friend,” Marcus says, his words filled with sincerity.
“Thanks, man,” I say, forcing the words out. “I never knew Elliot was at Healing Wings until he came home last year, but he spoke fondly about it, about you.”
“Your message said you wanted to know more about Elliot and Laurel?” Marcus asks.
“Yes.”
“She was adopted in Florida by the Healeys when she was a baby. She fell into the wrong crowd, started drinking and experimenting. When she was seventeen, the Healeys kicked her out after their son drowned on her watch. She was too high to notice.”
“Fuck,” I curse, and Brax winces.
Somehow, I know that when he sees Roman, he’s going to hug him extra tight.
“Do you know where Laurel is?” Brax asks.
Marcus shakes his head. “I tried to reach out to her after I heard about his accident. She didn’t reach back,” he says and then turns his phone around to show me a picture of the three of them dated just a couple weeks before the accident. “This was the last time we were together.”
My eyes linger on Laurel. Her blue eyes twinkle against her freckled skin. Her strawberry-blonde hair shines as the sun hits it from behind.
She seems so much happier in the photo than when I met her the night she was wasted.
“The necklace she’s wearing in the photo,” I say, staring at the golden leaf charm resting on her maroon jumper. “Elliot was wearing it when he came home.”
“I was there when she gave it to him,” Marcus says.
“Were they a couple?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Marcus confirms. “They got clean together. Built a life in Florida. Elliot was teaching kids how to skate and play hockey, and Laurel was taking night classes to become a journalist. They were happy. When Elliot decided it was time to go home and make amends, Laurel went with him. Judging by your face, you don’t seem to know that,” he says.
Because I didn’t.
“Why are you really asking about them?” Marcus asks.
“I met Laurel once,” I tell Marcus. “She told me Elliot was her ex and was repeating old patterns. That he got into trouble and left her to clean up his mess,” I say, careful not to give too much away. “She didn’t seem to know who I was.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Marcus’s confusion is clear as he shakes his head. “Elliot was clean. Laurel knew who all of you were,” Marcus says as if the whole thing is ludicrous and he’s trying to find a way for it to add up.
“He was intoxicated when he was found,” Brax says.
“I know, but he was clean. Maybe he wasn’t that day, but Elliot wouldn’t have fallen into old patterns.
He wouldn’t have compromised what he had with Laurel.
And there’s no reason why Laurel would willingly lie.
So, if she did, it’s because…” He stops for a moment.
“Someone threatened her and she didn’t tell the truth to protect herself and your brother,” he says, looking at me.
“Who would do that, though?” Brax questions.
“I heard what Elliot did to your friend. The Elliot I knew wasn’t violent,” Marcus says, his tone hushed. “For Elliot to do what he did, to break his sobriety, his whole world must have crumbled. Laurel was everything to your brother.”
“Jack wouldn’t hurt anyone. Maybe you’re right and someone did hurt Laurel, but it wasn’t Jack,” I say with absolute certainty.
Marcus moves to stand. “I truly am sorry for your loss. I think there’s more to this than what you’re telling me. Hell, maybe there’s more to this than you even know. It’s clear something happened while Elliot and Laurel were in Huxley Bay,” he says.
That much we can agree on.
“They were my friends, and maybe I’m a shitty one for not doing more, for not wanting to know more, but I need to protect my sobriety. I can’t compromise it. I’m afraid the more I know, the more it’s at risk.”
“I understand.”
“Whatever it is you’re looking for, whatever it is you think you need to find so that you can rest easier at night, you have to understand that sometimes the truth doesn’t always bring you the peace you hope it will.
Sometimes living in the unknown and accepting that we can’t reverse what has already happened is the best chance we have at survival,” Marcus says as if he’s been through a similar experience.
“You’re saying I should let it go?” I ask.
Marcus shrugs. “I don’t know you, but somehow, I know you won’t. That you’ll keep digging until you hit the truth, so I won’t waste my breath.”
The truth doesn’t always bring the peace you hope it will.
Marcus’s words echo in my mind as he walks away, leaving me staring into emptiness.
What if finding the truth only makes everything worse?
Even as the thought crosses my mind, I know I can’t stop looking. The unknown might be safer, but that’s not enough to stop me.