by Cole Baxter
Whatever happened, it happened fast, and before I knew it, our lips were meeting.
Laurie's kiss was soft and passionate, and I felt my body respond right away. She was so beautiful, and she was clearly passionate. Some of the victims of cases like this, they never wanted to be touched again. But Laurie wasn't like that. She was a kind, caring soul who existed in love, and she needed to be held.
That's what my brain told me as I kissed her. That's what my lips told me as I continued to kiss up and down her neck. I knew I was almost past the point of no return, but I couldn't stop.
This was wrong. This was so wrong. I should back away now. I should run away before anything else happened. I should get in my car and drive away.
But I couldn't. I needed to kiss her. I needed to hold her. And I needed to never leave again.
I could feel Lola's ghost watching me, but I could also feel something strange. It was like she approved. It was like she wanted me to kiss Laurie.
Maybe I was still drunk. Or maybe I just needed to have sex again. Either way, I couldn't stop kissing her.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Laurie
I couldn't believe that I had actually slept with Blake. I didn't know what I was thinking. All I knew was that it felt so right, and I wasn't about to deny myself any pleasure any longer. Life had been so miserable, and I didn't want to be miserable anymore. He was so kind, and caring, and gentle, and I just wanted to hold him and cuddle up to him.
I wanted to be one with him.
I don't know why I expected him to be a rough lover. I supposed it was because I had only ever had rough love, but Blake was different. Blake was a jewel. A gem. A beautiful soul that I would never expect violence from. He made sure to take the time to make me feel good before he got any pleasure for himself. He was soft when he stroked me, and he had the patience of a saint. I think I came about four times before he even got inside me.
I had thought that I would never sleep with another man again. But sleeping with Blake opened up a whole new world for me. I would be all right. I didn't know when, and I didn't know how, but I knew I would be all right.
Eventually, we had to stop our lovemaking because we were both exhausted. He had actually finished three times, although the last time was just slow and gentle and there wasn't much left. We were lying in bed naked, and we were talking when I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time. I was safe.
"Was that good?" he asked me.
I nodded, dumbfounded. "It was so good," I said. "I don't think it's been good for me in a long time."
"Well," he said. "I mean . . . that makes sense, given what you had gone through."
"Right," I replied. "Was it good for you?"
"It was," he assured me as he stroked my arm. "And in case you were wondering, it's been a long time for me too."
"Oh?" I asked. "How come? I mean, you’re pretty much anyone's ideal man."
"Mmm . . ." he said and then paused.
I had a feeling he was about to tell me a big secret, and I propped myself up on my elbow so I could listen. He was so handsome in the moonlight, with his hair all over his face and his sleepy eyes. However, behind the sleep deprivation, I saw something else. I saw pain.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I, um . . . my partner," he said. "My partner on the police force. Lola."
"Oh," I said. I wasn't sure where this story was going, but I could guess. "Were you in a relationship with her?"
"I was," he answered. "Lola and me . . . man, it was Lola and me against the world."
"Is it usual?" I asked. "I mean, if you are working that closely with someone . . ."
"No, it's not usual," I said. "And actually, it's kind of frowned upon. We knew that it was, but we just . . . we did it anyway. We had to. We were in love. And I don't say that lightly."
"I see," I replied. "And did something happen to her?"
"Yes," he replied. "She was killed on duty. I was with her when she died, which is one of the greatest blessings I've ever recieved."
"I'm so sorry, Blake," I said softly.
"It's okay," he replied. "I mean . . . it's not okay. I miss her every single day. But I wanted you to know why I was acting weird and all. This is the first time that I've been with someone other than her since she died."
"This is the first time that I've been with someone who wasn't Devon, ever," I said.
His eyes widened. "Really?"
"Really," I said. "I've never been without him. We were together since I was nineteen, if you remember."
"Wow, then I am sorry for the rest of the world," he said. "To be deprived of you."
She chuckled. "I think that's a compliment, so I'm going to take it," I answered.
He nodded. "It is a compliment," he promised.
I snuggled closer. "It's just been such a rough day," I said at last. I didn't really need to tell him that it was a rough day. He understood. But I was used to justifying everything I did.
"Yeah, and I'm sorry that I contributed to that," he said. "I really should be better at figuring out people's emotions."
"It's fine," I replied, "I mean . . . you thought you were doing something to help the case."
"I am doing something to help the case," he said. "I saw their reactions. I saw yours."
"And?" I asked, raising up in bed. "Am I off the hook?"
His face changed. "Can we talk about something else?" he asked.
I felt my heart sink. That meant I wasn't quite off the hook yet, which made me sad. At the very least, he could tell me that he was changing his mind about me or something. At the very least, he could tell me that he thought I was a good person who hadn't done any of this shit.
I tried not to get angry. My therapist had told me that anger was an emotion that wasn't useful. I could be traumatized, and I could be hurt, but I needed to work through anger if I ever wanted to heal.
I needed to ask Blake something about himself, needed to change the subject, or anger was just going to take over.
"What was she like?" I asked.
"Lola?" he asked in surprise.
I nodded.
"She was . . ."
I could tell that it was still hard for him to talk about her, and I felt bad. I had changed the subject for selfish reasons, and I didn't want him to be upset. I just wanted to be clear of the fog that was threatening my mind.
"She was just my soulmate, you know? I don't know how else to describe it. They say that when you meet your soulmate, you'll know. With Lola . . . I just knew. I looked into her eyes and I knew that she was mine. I don't know if you've ever had that experience before?"
"No," I said sadly. "I mean, I think I was supposed to . . . with Devon. Despite everyone's warnings, I'd thought we were perfectly matched. I denied everything that was happening beneath the surface and married him anyway."
"Yeah," he said. "I know, there's so much that goes on behind closed doors that is hard to see. And you clearly had the worst of it. I'm so sorry that you were dragged into all of this."
I was about to say something when all of a sudden, I heard a piercing alarm. I shrieked and sat up in bed. Blake sat up beside me and looked around frantically.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said. "I think . . . I think it's the smoke alarm. I've heard it goes off in this place."
"Right," he said and grabbed his clothes.
I grabbed mine as well, and he pulled my hands and we moved into the hallway. We were both still sweaty and I was sure that anyone who looked at us could tell that we had just had wild sex.
I had never been in a fire drill before, so it took a few minutes to figure out that we were all supposed to wait in the lobby. Everyone was looking around and talking to each other in a panic. No one told us that we had to leave the building, so we just stood there, mostly in shock and sleepy. I couldn't smell any smoke and I couldn't see any flames, so I kept telling myself that it was all right. However, all I could think about was the f
ire at that had killed Devon and the smoke I'd seen on the news that had risen from there.
What if it was happening again? What if someone had done this to get me out of the apartment? What if I was the one who had caused all these people to be awake in the middle of the night?
"I'm going to make a call," Blake said.
"Right now?" I asked in surprise. It just didn't seem like the right time to make a call, but he seemed to have everything under control.
"I'm actually just going to call the boys at the station," he said. "They will know exactly why this alarm went off. It's probably just a false alarm, Laurie, or some kids playing with it. Don't worry."
I didn't know how he could tell that I was terrified, but he seemed to understand that I needed reassurance. He put his cell phone to his ear and put his finger in his other ear to talk to the person on the other end of the line. I could hear him saying a few words and then nodding intently. He wandered away from me, and I wanted to call out to him, to ask him to stay, but I didn't think that was fair. I was a big girl and I was supposed to be standing on my own two feet.
Outside, the firetrucks flashed their lights and a fireman ran through the rain into our garage. Blake was still talking to someone, so I focused on their lights and sirens in the pouring rain.
Once, that had been Devon. My Devon, being a hero and then coming home and nearly killing me.
He had joined the fire brigade to be a hero. He liked the glory, and clearly, he had liked the groupies too.
I hated myself for this. I hated my life. I hated my past.
When Blake came back, the look on his face told me that he had news. But it also told me that he wasn't sure whether he should share that news.
"So . . ." he paused. "It turned out that there was a fire in the garage," he said. "But the sudden rainstorm put it out."
"Oh," I said. "Well . . . that's . . . I mean . . ."
"It's okay, Laurie," he said. "You aren't in any danger."
Suddenly, something clicked. It didn't make sense to me why the garage would be on fire.
"Did a car backfire or something?" I asked him.
"Uh . . ." He shook his head. "No."
I paled. "Was it . . . did somebody light it?"
"Laurie, it's out now," he said. "And there are cameras in your garage. Whatever happened, we're going to get to the bottom of it."
"But somebody lit it?" I asked him.
He tried to look away.
"Blake," I said. "I'm not an idiot. Tell me."
"Yes," he said at last. "Yes, it looks like arson."
"Oh, my God." I buried my face in my hands. "Oh, my God."
"It's okay," he said. "It's okay. I told you, I'm going to take care of you."
"I can't do this," I said and started to pull away from him.
He held me closer and the tears started up again.
"Blake . . ."
"Listen," he said. "They're going to find who did this. And if it's connected to you in any way, I will figure it out. And I will kill the person who did it myself."
I didn't know how to feel about a statement like that. I was both terrified and touched at the same time.
"Can we just . . . go back to bed?" I asked him at last.
He nodded. "Yes," he said, kissing the top of my head. "Yes, I think that's a good idea."
I knew that I probably wouldn't be able to sleep, but I needed to get out of there. Now that I knew everything was all right, I needed to deal with my own head and try to not have a meltdown.
I needed a lot more than a soft bed. I needed to ground myself or I would lose it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Blake
Reports. Reports. My whole life was reports, it felt like. I had given so many reports as a police officer, and now I felt like I had to give a whole new type of report.
I hated it, of course, but there was nothing I could do about it. If I didn't tell them that there was a fire at Laurie's building, there would be a lot of suspicion laid on me, and suspicion was something I really needed to avoid.
I needed to give a report to both the police and my mysterious employer and tell them every detail. Of course, I wouldn't hear from my employer, whoever they were, for quite a while. Who I did hear from right away, though, was the police.
"So, you were at Laurie's apartment?" Sam asked the second he read my report.
"Well, yeah," I said. "I had to be."
"Why did you have to be?" he asked.
I felt like smacking my head against the wall. Why had I told him that? Why had I said such things when I could have just lied? Sam never missed a beat.
"I, uh . . ." I thought fast. "I had to because she called me and said that there had been a development."
"Really?" he asked.
I needed to go off the deep end if I wanted Sam to leave me alone.
"Yes," I blurted out. "Come on, Sam, what do you think of me? She's a murderer."
"Is that what you really think?" he asked.
I sighed. "Look, that's the report, okay?"
"Sure," he said. "I'll submit it to the higher ups. But more importantly, Blake, what do you think it means?"
"I think it means that we're screwed," I reported and could hear Sam practically raising an eyebrow on the other side of the phone.
"Please elaborate," he said.
I sighed. "It means that there are new suspects or that someone is working for Devon, whatever you want to call it. I had thought this would be following a dead trail, but it's clearly not."
"No," he said. "It's clearly not."
"I suppose if you really wanted . . ." I didn't know how to say it. "You could say that Devon is still alive in some form."
"Is that what you think?" he asked.
I took a deep breath. "I don't know," I said. "But if I'm honest with you, it seemed like far too much of a coincidence."
"I agree," he said. "And that is why I think you should just . . . keep your distance from the suspect, if you know what I mean."
"Aw Sam, please don't tell me how to do my job," I said. "Listen, being a PI, it's different from being an officer. There are different rules."
"I am so aware of that," he answered. "You have already broken about ten rules that I have to follow."
"Yeah, there are perks," I said quietly. "Anyway, are you satisfied with that report?"
"I'm satisfied for now," he said. "But I know that it's not . . . going to be easy, going forward. I don't know if you are getting too much into the nitty gritty of things, Blake. If you need to take a break or—"
"I don't need to take a break," I said. "I'm focused on it, Sam, and I feel better than I have in a long time."
“Okay, okay," he replied. "Just let me know if you ever need something. We can help far more than you think."
"I know," I replied. "And I will let you know, I promise."
“Okay," he said. "Thanks for the report. I'll pass it on."
"Where are you going to be today?" I asked. "Is there any other lead you have that you haven't told me about?"
"Not yet," he said. "But I'll keep you posted. Are you mostly going to hang around home today?"
"Uh . . . yeah," I said, even though that wasn't true. I was still at Laurie's apartment, and I didn't intend to leave unless I had to. She was too shaken up, and given that I was fairly sure it was arson in the garage, I really didn't want to leave her alone.
Whoever had done this obviously hadn't counted on the rain storm. If it hadn't been raining, I was sure the entire garage would have burned down, which made things infinitely worse.
If they had burned the garage, Laurie's apartment would be in the direct line of fire.
I mean, there were a lot of people who lived in that building. I couldn't say for sure that they had been trying to kill her. But if there was one thing I had learned in police work, it was to not assume that coincidences were just coincidences. Once I got off the phone with Sam, I headed into the kitchen to make coffee. I pretty much only excl
usively drank coffee and alcohol, it seemed. It seemed there was no good way to be an addict. You just traded one addiction for another.
If Sam wanted to be suspicious, I really didn't mind. It was just Sam, and I was positive that he wouldn’t tell anyone. In fact, I could probably come right out and tell him the truth and he would just grunt and groan in typical Sam fashion. However, there were other factors at play here that I was far more concerned about.
What if someone really was after Laurie? And what if that someone was after her simply because she had survived, rather than something she had done?
It bothered me to all hell that he wouldn't tell me who my employers were. Someone was paying my salary, and I was either making them very mad or very happy. I figured Sam would tell me if I was making them mad, but that didn't make the situation any better. That just made me want to scream.
How was I supposed to solve a case with missing information? How was I supposed to figure out if anyone was guilty at all, given the way things were going?
I wanted to write a secondary report about how frustrating all of this was, but I couldn't.
I knew that there was only one place to go when I felt this way.
As soon as I finished my coffee, I got into the car and drove on autopilot. I had heard so many stories of people getting into accidents because they weren't even aware they had been driving. I wondered how they could do it and if they were lying. I wondered that until Lola died, and I started driving on autopilot too. I started doing everything on autopilot. I would eat, sleep, get to work, drive the car, wash my clothes, and remember none of it. It wasn't just the booze, either. There was something about the way that Lola died that had affected me, something that made me think I couldn't even acknowledge the world she left behind. Like if I accepted that there was still a world without her, she truly was gone.
Early in the morning, the graveyard was empty. There was usually a groundskeeper or something, but I supposed that I had come too early for that.
I went to her grave and sat down. I didn't mind that the grass was cold and slightly damp. Those things reminded me that I was alive. And I wanted to suffer just a little bit. It didn't seem fair that I kept drawing breath and she did not.
