25. Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-five
Summer
“You’ve been staring at that file for over an hour.”
I look at Alec from across the counter, a small piece of dark hair dipping down his forehead. His eyes pierce through me with intensity. I shove away the feeling growing between my legs, bouncing my foot on the kitchen floor. My fingers grip the edge of the counter tight. I can almost feel my nails splintering.
“Has it really been that long?” I look back down at the manilla folder. My mother’s name penetrates my eyes, and my throat grows dry, clogging my airway with something I don’t want there.
Fear.
I’m not afraid of physically seeing what was done to my mother. Most of that information was on the news, even if a lot of it was blurred. It’s what I’m about to find out that scares the ever-living hell out of me.
I was looking forward to this moment. Opening this file and studying it until I had an idea or lead to who was behind my mother’s murder. It’s supposed to add a layer of peace, but as I stare down at this folder, all my insides want to do is bury themselves deeper.
Alec slowly moves around the counter, pinching my chin with his thumb and index finger, and forces it up. I stare into his glossy gray eyes, lost in thought, until his mouth parts to speak.
“Pretty girl, whatever is in that file. Whatever information you find. It’s a step closer to finding solitude. I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll do this together, yeah?”
My eyes fall to his lips as the words come out so soothingly. His voice brings me comfort and bliss. My eyelashes flutter as I nod my head.
“Yeah. OK. Yeah.” My voice sounds a lot more confident than I feel. I feel like I’m a broken train track just waiting for destruction.
Curling and uncurling my fingers into fists, I reach for the edge of the folder. It’s thick under my fingertips, the weight matching the fear in my chest.
I close my eyes and suck in a breath, flipping the folder open as I exhale. When my eyes open, it takes me a few minutes to look over everything on the first page. My heart sinks further as I read about my mother.
The dirty blond color of her hair. It was much darker than my own. Her eyes—the perfect shade of green with golden flecks. Everything about her, all the way down to her husband and daughter.
I turn the page, reading the top letters in black, bold ink.
Police Report.
Turning my head and gasping for air, I cling onto Alec’s shirt, smothering my face into his chest. He holds me, rubbing gentle circles along my spine.
“Take your time, Sunshine.”
I breathe him in, finding comfort in his delicious scent. His phone vibrates in his pocket, reverberating against my thigh where my leg pushes against his. He moves an arm down, silencing it through the material of his jeans.
It’s the fourth call he’s ignored since we returned to his apartment.
“You really should answer that. It seems important.”
“It’s not.” He rests his chin against the top of my head, but the way he says that makes me feel like he’s avoiding whoever is calling for a reason.
And that’s unsettling.
I don’t want to be the reason he screws his career up.
Storing that away, I take two minutes to gather my composure and turn back to look at the case file. Alec’s hands rest on my hips as he hovers over my shoulder, reading with me. I lean back into him, needing to feel every inch of him touching me.
My eyes narrow, squinting as I focus on the seam of the folder. My teeth draw my lip between them, and I nibble down, trying to understand what I’m staring at. Alec releases his hold on my waist, moving to the side of me. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see his features coat with concern as he looks from the file back at me.
“What is it?” he asks, staying cautious with his tone of voice.
My stomach churns, flipping around and batting against my intestines. Reaching a shaky handout, I run my fingers along the torn paper beneath the top staple. It’s the only one holding onto this shred of paper, calling out to me as if I was meant to see it.
“This file has been tampered with,” I start, pointing and dragging my finger along the paper. “The edges are uneven. I think someone ripped them out.”
“And there is no way to know who.”
I shake my head. Warmth pools in my eyes, and my lip wobbles.
Why would someone tamper with my mother’s case file?
Rage fuels me, pumping through my veins and heating my skin.
It was all for nothing. “The risks we just took. It was all pointless.”
Sighing, I turn and lean against the counter, pressing my palms into my eyes, hoping that the slight pressure will balance the burn I feel within them.
Alec pulls me back into his arms. “We’ll find another way.”
I love his positivity, but I don’t think I have it in me anymore. I’m at my wit’s end trying to solve this myself. In truth, I have no business in trying to figure it out. No equipment. The only thing I was holding onto was the idea that there was something written in this file that could lead me to who killed my mother.
Was it really my father?
I take a deep breath, pushing Alec away from me. “I need to talk to my dad.”
His jaw tightens as he shakes his head. “Not without me.”
“Alec,” I warn. “I appreciate you. I do. You’ve done more for me than anyone else has in this lifetime, but I need to do this. Alone .” I keep my expression stern, so he knows how serious I am.
I can tell that he doesn’t like this any more than I do. But truthfully, I won’t be able to get what I need from my father if Alec is involved.
His chest rises as he takes in a deep breath. I watch it lower as he breathes out. “Can I at least give you a ride?”
With a sincere smile, I nod. “I’d like that.”
***
It’s a strange feeling.
Being raised by two loving parents who taught you everything you needed to know to succeed in life.
I once heard that people never change. Not unless they want to. Is that the case here? Was my father holding the aggression inside of himself my entire life, and all it took was my mother to cheat on him? I can’t get the thought out of my head.
“Sunshine,” Alec says, parking the car on the side of the road in front of my house.
My eyes move swiftly to the driveway before dropping back down to the manila folder in my lap.
Dad’s not home, which doesn’t surprise me. It’s five o’clock in the afternoon, and his typical work schedule has him there until six thirty. That’s if he doesn’t stay late.
Alec reaches his arm to my face, running the back of his fingers against my cheek.
I lean into his touch loving the warmth of his skin and the sound of the nickname flowing easily off his tongue. “Yeah?”
“Something is wrong. You haven’t said a word since we left my apartment.”
I breathe softly. “I’m fine.” The words rush out of my mouth before I can stop them, only for the lie to sour the tip of my tongue.
“You’re a shitty liar, Summer,” he drawls.
Sinking down in the passenger seat, I pout. “So I’ve been told.”
“I can still come with you…” he starts before I stop him.
“No. I can do this. I have to do this. You should call whoever keeps blowing your phone up.” I look down at my palms, slick sweat, making them sticky. “Besides, you have a career, and this… this is my problem. I’ll call you.”
Grabbing the folder and hugging it tight against my chest, I get out of the car before he has a chance to oppose and hurry onto the porch. When I unlock the door, I slide inside, leaning my back against it once it’s shut. I peek through the blinds, my eyes glued to Alec’s car.
Watching. Waiting. Wishing I was still beside him.
My chest tightens when he finally drives away, leaving me alone in the quiet house.
Walking up the stairs, I’m caught in thought, wondering how I’m going to start a conversation about Mom’s case file to Dad when he gets home. I get this feeling pinned in the center of my ribs. But that’s not what I focus on.
I focus on a very faint shadow on the wall down the hall. Instinctively, I’m on my way to it before I can think twice.
My eyes draw in, remembering Mom’s small library was locked the last time I tried to go inside. But when I press my palm on the door, it creaks open. I can’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t meant to be left open.
I take two steps inside, taking in the space like I’ve done a thousand times before. A white lounge chair sits diagonally, facing the wall-to-ceiling bookshelves that stack against the entire left wall. Each book Mom purchased was by her favorite authors. Some older, some new.
I swing around to the burgundy wooden desk on the opposite side. There is a small stack of books that were left there before I left for college, and my heart aches at the thought that Mom will never get to read the words on those pages.
My feet make their way toward the desk. I reach out, feeling each book’s edges and moving them to read the titles. A small smile fills my face at one of the books I recommended she read, but it falls immediately when my eyes look to the little drawer in the center of the desk.
It’s propped open, like someone had recently been in it.
Inhaling, I shimmy the draw open fully, my eyebrows creasing at what I see.
A manila folder.
One much like the one that has my mother’s case file in it.
The thump of my heart increases with each beat. My fingers tremble over the envelope, and I pull it out. The name on the top has been crossed out in Sharpie.
My eyes move from Mom’s in my hand to the one that is now on the desk. The rounded edges are the same, and the Brooklyn Police Department logo is embedded into the bottom corner.
My chest tightens, pushing away my nerves as I fling open the folder. With wide eyes, I read the name in disbelief and curiosity.
Alec Sokolov.
Why is his file in my house?
Knowing I should close this and mind my own business, curiosity argues with my common sense, leaving me opening it and skimming over the information carefully.
This is a violation of privacy. Illegal at that, but stealing my mother’s file is also, and that didn’t stop me from committing three different crimes in the span of just a couple of hours.
Skipping over the small details, I flip to the next page. My hand flies to cover my mouth, a gasp falling from my lungs at the same time.
Alec Sokolov, 18, was charged with indecent exposure with Samantha Rodriguez.
My dinner from last night that I barely ate is clawing up my throat. Flinging one arm around my stomach, I squeeze my eyes shut momentarily.
He told me they never slept together, that they were only friends and nothing more.
Forcing myself to suck in the thick air in the room, I turn the page. My eyes open slowly, looking over everything else, until I get to the very bottom of the page and freeze at the signature below.
I flip to the next page and the next page. Each sign-off is from the exact same officer.
My father.
My lungs pinch, making it harder to breathe. A sob escapes, and I hiccup. Tears trickle down my cheeks, hot and heavy. Uncontrollable.
How did I not connect the two? My father’s rage toward any topic of Alec. The way he looked when he first saw me with Alec….
I was nothing but a puppet in a twisted game. I feel disgusted.
I think of the way Alec looked at me when our eyes met at the concert. He knew who I was. Everything was right there, right in front of my eyes, and I was too blind to see it.
How could I be so stupid?
Alec knew my father the whole fucking time.