12. Chapter Twelve #3
Aurora seems ready to press further, but then she reconsiders.
Daniel wonders what she sees in his expression that makes her hold back.
She purses her lips and taps a finger against the corner of her mouth while he takes another sip from the whiskey bottle.
She’s such a bright light in the current shadowy pit that is his life.
Following the movement of her hand, his gaze drops to her clavicle, to the round edges of her body.
Surrounded by the documents and reminded of the case—and his failures—he suddenly feels a strong urge to stop and escape it all. Even if for one night.
“There’s something else I’ve been considering.” She glances at him again. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” Daniel asks, taking a step closer to her.
“You know like what.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry,” Daniel says, immediately distancing himself from her.
Using the patched wall for support, he knocks a hung photo out of place as he stumbles toward the small bathroom in the hallway.
He shuts the door behind him. When he flips on the light, one of the bulbs flickers as if unsure whether it should work, but it eventually stays on.
It casts a hard glow on his face in the grimy mirror.
His beard has grown wild and unkempt, and his brown eyes sag in their sockets, forcing him to confront the type of man he’s become.
Aurora might be the only person willing to hear him out, the only one truly listening to his truth, and yet he’s making a move on her like some scumbag. He promised himself he would never cross that line.
Daniel takes his phone out of his pocket and hovers his thumb over Bambi’s contact information. He wants to call her, but he knows exactly what she’d say. She’d tell him that you only live once, and you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.
After a few more minutes of squaring himself out, he returns to the living room, feeling more clear-headed. He half-expects Aurora to be gone, but seeing her still there—still pouring over the evidence—makes his chest ache. He grabs the whiskey bottle and carries it back to the kitchen.
“So, I’ve been thinking,” Aurora calls out, settling back onto the couch.
Daniel stands at the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, waiting for Aurora’s permission to approach. Their gazes lock, and a silent conversation unfolds—he apologizes, and she acknowledges it with a small nod.
“Her phone. You mentioned it was missing?” Aurora asks as Daniel comes to sit on the other side of the coffee table.
“Yes. It wasn’t on her person or in the alley, so the working assumption is that the killer took it,” Daniel explains.
Aurora pinches her lips. “Where was the last GPS ping?”
Daniel pulls out a printed map and marks an X. “Here,” he says, circling two other locations. “This is the alley, and supposedly where she left Sergei’s car after their fight.”
Aurora studies the proximity of the three locations. “Is there any point in tracking it now? Was it turned back on after…” she asks.
“It’s off, dead, or probably thrown off a cliff,” Daniel replies impatiently. “He did it,” he adds with conviction.
“But he has an alibi.” Aurora’s persistence is impressive. Her analytical approach is sharper than that of some of the novice detectives he’s worked with.
“He was at the gala, close to where she was found. He could have slipped away for a few minutes and returned without anyone noticing,” Daniel counters.
“That’s a big if.”
“Fine. Maybe he hired someone. One of his goons could’ve done it.”
“For an up-and-coming young detective, you like throwing ideas at the wall and seeing what sticks.” Aurora pulls her legs underneath her. “Why this case? Why are you so… invested in it?”
Daniel thinks for a moment before replying, “Because a child is motherless.”
Aurora doesn’t argue with that. “Fine,” she says, standing with a sense of purpose.
“Fine what?” Daniel feels a strange sensation spreading across him. He half-expects his body to repel the fragile hope building inside of him as a foreign object.
“Fine, I’ll help you,” Aurora repeats.
Daniel freezes, taken aback, waiting for her to add a “psych” or “just kidding.” “Did I convince you?”
“No. But as I often told my kids, when you don’t know the right answer, use the process of elimination.
You believe Sergei is responsible. I…” She pauses for a moment.
“I don’t see it. But I want the person who left Misha without a mother to face justice.
Whether it was a robbery gone wrong or something else, their actions led to Alessia’s death.
So, I’m willing to help you gather more evidence. I have two conditions, though.”
“Yes, anything,” Daniel says quickly, rising to his feet but keeping his distance from her.
“First, you have to let the evidence lead the way. I know you think it’s Sergei, but if we find evidence to suggest otherwise, you need to evaluate it objectively.”
Daniel notices her use of “we,” and the thought of being part of a team again—of not being alone, of having someone believe in him and work alongside him—brings a heavy lump to his throat.
He coughs, trying to regain his composure. “I can try. What’s the second condition?”
Aurora tilts her head to the side, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You need to recognize the irony of the situation. You, a seasoned detective, need help from me, an amateur crime enthusiast.”
Her wicked smile lightens the heaviness of the moment.