Chapter 27 Sloane
Sloane
My first thought as I watch Callum drive away from my apartment is that I’m glad I only have two feet and not three.
I’m certain that if I had a third, I would have inserted that one into my mouth as well.
On second thought, I find myself replaying the words Callum said to me.
“I think you’d be good for him.” For some reason, there’s a thread that pulls inside of me at the thought of being good for Riven.
“Caught between two men. Not a good look, Lo.” I’m beginning to loathe the little angel who can do no wrong.
I’m about to bite back when the dark one decides to return. “Why choose when you can have them both?” Great, just call me Elena fucking Gilbert.
“Get out of my head. You two aren’t making this any easier,” I say out loud to absolutely no one, like a lunatic.
I turn, stomping back into the apartment and closing the door.
I walk back inside and upstairs. I open up my bedside table and flip through the photos of my father again while sitting on the side of my bed.
I thumb through each one, expecting answers to jump off the photo paper.
But all I find are more questions. I don’t recognize the man in the photos with Gideon.
I barely recognize him, if I’m being honest. I decide to lock them up in a shadow box I keep on my bookshelf.
Then, I freshen up and shoot Lydia a text before heading to the office to grab something I need for my research.
It’s time to find out why Van had those photos.
Sloane: LYD! I think I might have met your soul mate today.
Lydia: Um, do tell…
Sloane: Riven had a guy come install a security system today, story for another time. Anyway, his name is Callum.
Lydia: Security system, huh? Ooooo, Callum. Sexy, I like it. Please…tell me more!
Sloane: Omg, lol. He’s BIG. Like muscular as hell and super tall. Full tattoo sleeve. Handsome. A MAN BUN! And…he puts up a good front, but I have a feeling he’s all bark and no bite. It’s giving golden retriever, and maybe Capricorn?
Lydia: Look at you, Lo! Spotting a Cappy in the wild! I’ve taught you well. Aww, damn. I kind of like a little bite, though. But a golden retriever can be trained. And man bun? Swoon! You know I have a type. So, what’s his number? When’s the date?
Sloane: I know you do. Well…that’s the only tiny problem…
Lydia: Lo….drop the bomb.
Sloane: Well…he kinda says he isn’t dating right now?
Lydia: Well, luckily, I also love a challenge. (; Callum…I wonder how many of those are in the area. You’re a pretty good stalker. Could you find out his last name for me, pretty please?
Sloane: I’m an INVESTIGATOR, Lyd. And possibly, yes. Are we still hanging out tomorrow night?
Lydia: Only if you provide me with Callum’s last name. *sticking out tongue emoji*
Sloane: *roll eyes emoji* Deal.
? ? ?
I drive to work while listening to “The Night Does Not Belong To God” by Sleep Token.
I’m thinking about Lydia’s request, and I wonder if I should text Riven and ask him for Callum’s last name.
I keep thinking about what Callum said about Riven being broken, though.
Maybe I should have pushed back when Riven sent me that text.
Maybe I shouldn’t have run off into the hands of another man.
Even if I do still dream about those hands.
The photos of my father are the only thing stopping me from running back again, too.
There’s a connection between Van and me that I’m struggling to find the words for.
And the pitchfork freak in my head is begging me to explore it.
I pull up to work and unlock the door to walk inside.
It’s midday on a weekend, so the office is closed.
As I’m walking over to my desk to grab my research notebook, I see a folder with a sticky note on top of Alex’s desk.
I give it my full attention, noticing that my name is on it.
Would it be snooping if it’s technically for me?
I casually stroll over to it, looking around like someone is going to catch me doing something I shouldn’t.
I run my hand over the sticky note and toward the edge of the folder, flipping it open. Oops.
The bold-faced title nearly knocks me right off my feet. It reads “Gideon Keenan - Case reopening.”
Case reopening? It’s been nearly a year.
Why would a closed case reopen? Maybe new evidence has surfaced.
I’m not sure why Alex wouldn’t call me with this right away when he received it.
Wait … the photos. Shit. It dawns on me that the person who broke into my apartment could have had something to do with my father’s case.
What if someone has been following me since then?
That same person could have seen the photos of my father.
Or worse, the person in the photos with Gideon could be targeting me.
I need to go back home and double-check them.
I’ll shoot a photo of the man in the photos to Elle if she calls, and see if she knows anything.
I grab my notebook from my desk drawer, along with my keys, and lock up.
I head for my car to drive back home. My mind is racing with all the things that could go terribly wrong in the time it will take me to get home and make sure those photos are where I left them.
I will not feel an ounce of relief until I have them in my hands.
I don’t know why, but I have this gut feeling that something is horribly wrong.
I hurriedly park, get out of my car, and run to the front door.
I fumble with the lock for far too long, immediately turning off the alarm once I’m finally inside.
I run right upstairs and into my bedroom, walking over to my bookcase and pulling out the shadow box that’s shelved near the top.
The box is designed to appear like a book, but has a little flap on it that opens to a secret compartment.
I quickly open it up and gasp, dropping it.
The photos of my father are gone. I search through my security app footage, not seeing anything strange. I grab my phone, sending a text to the only person who can help me right now.
Sloane: Hey. I think someone may have broken into my apartment again. I tried to enter the code Callum gave me and run through the feed, but it isn’t working. Maybe I’m just not doing it right. Do you think you could check them for me?
I’m waiting for a text back when my phone rings. I see “Professor Jerk Face” across the screen. The nickname makes me cringe.
“Sloane, are you okay?” I can hear the panic in his voice, as if he cares.
“Yes. I’m fine.” It comes out a little clipped.
“Okay, I deserve that.” He pauses. “Why do you think someone broke in?”
I consider my answer, knowing I can’t give him the real one. “Um, something that I know I had earlier is missing now.”
“Okay. What is it?”
“Just … something valuable.”
“Right. Look, you don’t have to tell me. I’ll check the cameras for you. Give me a second.” I can hear clicking. “Hmmm,” he says, as I hear a few more clicks.
“What? What is it?” I ask.
“Well, I don’t see anything. Are you sure you didn’t just misplace this … thing?”
“No. I think I would know if I misplaced it, Riven,” I snap, annoyed.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll recheck them, but there’s no unusual activity on the cameras or alarms.”
Am I going crazy? I know that I put them in here.
I sigh. “No, no. I believe you. Maybe I did just misplace it. Thanks, I’m sorry for bothering you.”
There’s a long pause, and I start to wonder if he hung up when I hear his voice again. “Never apologize to me, Sloane. I should be the one apologizing. I truly am sorry for hurting you. I’m in a weird headspace right now, is all.”
Weird headspace? Not buying it. I consider a mouthy response, but then recall my conversation with Callum. “It’s fine. If you want to make it up to me, you can give me Callum’s last name.”
“Why do you want his last name?” There’s a dark edge to his voice. Is that jealousy?
I laugh. “Not for me … for Lydia.”
He coughs. “Oh, um, Lydia, right. It’s Thorne. Callum Thorne. Any other odd apology requests?”
“Nope. I think that’s it.” I’m about to end the conversation when I hear his voice again. It’s deep, low, and laced with regret.
“Sloane, look. Can we talk in person? I don’t like the way things ended, and to be completely honest, I’m not even sure I wanted it to,” he confesses. His words give me pause. I don’t know if I want to let him back in or make him beg for my forgiveness. I need time to think.
“I don’t know, Riven. I—”
“Tell me you’ll think about it, at least.”
I sigh. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you, Sloane. It’s more than you owe me, I know.”
“Look, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up before he can say something that makes me drop everything and run to him. Maybe I’ve got a thing or two for broken people.
I pocket my phone, bending down to pick up the empty shadow box, and return it to the bookshelf.
I’m thankful it didn’t break when I dropped it.
I stand there staring at it, swearing to myself that I put those photos in there.
I’m about to start looking around the room for them when my phone starts ringing.
I see “UNKNOWN CALLER” pop up, almost declining the call before considering that it might be the PI.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hi, is this Sloane Keenan?” a female voice replies.
“Yes, this is she.”
“Hi. This is Elle Langdon. Your mom told me you needed to talk to me?”
“Yes. Hi, Elle. Thank you so much for getting back with me so quickly. I wanted to know if you could look into something for me.”
There’s a pause before she responds, “Depends on the thing, I suppose.”
“Well.” I pause. “I had these photos of my father that went missing.” I hold my breath.
“Oh. Your … father.” She clears her throat. “What do you mean, went missing?”
“Well, I had them hidden somewhere in my room earlier today. I left, and when I came back home, they were gone. But, besides that, I’d like to see if you could also find someone for me. There was someone else in the photos with him.”
“I see. Do you think you could describe the photos to me?”
“It looked like they were taken of my father from a distance, and without his knowledge. Some were of only him. Some were of him and another guy.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. What did the other guy look like?”
“Um.” I pause, trying to remember. “He looked to be about my father’s age. Dark brown hair with some gray, a receding hairline, and he was about an inch taller than my father. He was wearing a black suit.”
“Okay. And what was he doing in the photos?”
“My father was handing him a thick envelope in one hand. He was shaking hands with him in another.”
“Right.” She sighs. “Look, Sloane. I’m sure you’re aware that your father was working with some powerfully corrupt people in Hollowcrest. There are things he did that you might not want to uncover,” she warns.
“I know what I’m getting myself into, Elle. Can you please help me?”
She sighs, and there’s another pause. “Okay, yeah. I’ll see what I can find.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I say, relieved.
She laughs. “Anything for Lena’s daughter. Your mother talks so much about you, I already feel like I know you. I’ll let you know if I find anything. Take care, Sloane.”
“Thanks again, Elle,” I say, hanging up.
I don’t know whether I feel better or worse after our conversation.
What I do know is that I can’t stop thinking about Riven.
I can’t stop thinking about what Callum said about Riven being broken, and me being good for him.
I can’t stop thinking that maybe I was too hard on him.
So, against all better judgment, I decide that I’m done thinking.
Sloane: Hey. Can you come over? I’d like to talk.
I hit send and immediately pocket my phone before I can ruminate on it.
I run upstairs to take a quick shower, tapping my phone as soon as I get out.
I’m expecting to see a text back from Riven, but I have no new notifications.
Well, maybe the moment is gone. Wine and horror films, it is.
I toss on an oversized tee and a pair of pajama shorts, heading back downstairs to wallow in self-pity.
By the time there’s a surprising knock on my door, I’m already two glasses down and forty-five minutes into Scream.
I hit pause and stand, walking toward the door to unlock it.
When I open it and look up, I’m met with a pair of polarizing eyes.
I swallow, suddenly more sober than I was two seconds ago.