“And you trust him completely?”
“Yes.” This is said with conviction.
With him so obviously trusting Jerry, I find myself trusting him, too.
“Okay.”
“I need to go into the office today. I have some other things to clear up from other cases, a couple meetings, and I need to get some advice from the cop I know.”
“Are you sure you can trust him?”
“Not all cops are bad. Ken is definitely one of the good guys. I know Sasha gave you a brief history yesterday about us, but I bet she never mentioned Artie.”
I shake my head.
“He was one of us, lived on the other side of Sasha for a few years before they moved to a shittier part of the neighborhood. We were all still close, and Artie and I were best friends. He was brave, funny, and reckless. He always knew he wanted to be a cop like his dad. Was killed during his first day on the job. Pulled over a guy for speeding and was shot as he approached the driver’s window.”
I gasp, tears welling in my eyes for a man I don’t even know. That is so awful.
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Almost four years ago. Wrecked us all.”
I shake my head, my heart breaking for Zander who has lost so much in his life in such a short amount of time. How is he even still functioning?
Zander clears his throat, his eyes no longer on me but staring at the blank TV. “Anyway, his dad is the buddy I know. He was like a second father to us all. We can trust him.”
Now it’s my turn to offer comfort, resting my hand on his leg and gently squeezing.
It is probably wrong in this moment to notice how hard his leg is, how strong the muscles feel protruding underneath. Therefore, I quickly remove my hand before I can wonder about anything else in that region.
“How long will it take Jerry to get the USB to work?”
“Hopefully, not long.”
“Am I coming in with you today?” I might not have much to do there, but at least Sasha will keep me entertained.
“I think, until we have a better idea of what is going on, you should stay here. The less often you’re outside this apartment, the less likely anyone is going to find you.”
“Right …” I try not to sound as forlorn as I feel as I glance down at the remote just to my side, coming to terms with the fact that I’m about to get well-acquainted with daytime TV.
“I think you mentioned that you usually do office temp work, but you also run your own business where you design and create webpages?”
“Yeah.” I think of all the business I’m probably missing by not being able to check my emails or answer my phone. Being reliable and quick is how you stay alive in both of those fields. Everything I have built up will be wasted now. I will have to start over when I get my life back.
If I get my life back.
“Well, I know I won’t have the programs you have, but I thought, while you’re stuck here, maybe you can take a look at our website. We never really took much care when we designed it. Just put the logo on and made sure our information was there. Think you could make some notes on how to improve it?”
I grin up at him, happy when he smiles down at me. I know this is probably a pity job, but who cares? It is almost like I can do him a favor while he’s helping me out.
Sure, it’s like giving a man a free brick after he’s built your entire house, but it is still better than nothing.
“I’d love to do that!”
“Great. I’ll get you some paper, pencils, and my laptop. The office is too cramped to work in there, but you can make yourself at home on the dining room table.”
I nod eagerly, wanting to get on with it.
As soon as Zander leaves for work, I begin writing down ideas as I glance at the plain, boring design they have set up.
For the first time in days, I find myself in a familiar routine. It feels great and relaxing, and I smile the entire time I work. Plus, I manage to avoid daytime TV, so it’s a success.
***
I end up spending the next week plotting ideas and adjusting what I can online. I design a new logo, new branding, and a whole new color scheme for the site. There is no menu bar, so I add that. Zander also gives me a few previous clients for me to email to see if they are willing to write any testimonies.
After a week, I think I have done my best work. I could do a little better if I had my programs, but I can always fix them later. I have overthought every single thing, down to the font size and style, and am happy when Zander appears impressed with the final result.
During this week, we have kept the same new routine of sleeping in bed together. I’m always under the covers, while Zander drapes his own blanket over himself as he sleeps on top. I’m not sure why he is so determined on this since I would have immediately caved if he asked to sleep under the covers with me, but maybe that right there is why.
Right now, I’m a job, and I’m good with Van. Zander even said it himself. I helped Van to open up. He is interacting with the world again, and Zander obviously wants to keep that going.
I have tucked him in every night since his freak out over the photos. It seems to soothe Van, and part of me likes feeling needed.
We haven’t heard a peep out of Brian, and I have relaxed enough in Zander and Van’s place that I feel completely safe and comfortable.
Unfortunately, after a week of waiting for Jerry to figure out why they can’t play the videos on the USB, he finally figures it out. And then Zander’s mood plummets. Even Van notices the frostiness and ignores a few of the “Vaughns” he is called in order to keep the peace.
I feel even more horrible that I have subjected Zander and his team to this. It must be affecting them all. I only saw a little of one clip; what other horrors are on there? Declan mentioned rape and murder, as well as torture, when we had our first meeting. Is that what else they have been forced to watch?
After two days of Zander viewing the videos and searching for faces, locations, or any indication on how old the videos are, he finds something he thinks I should know about. And I’m sure I don’t want to know whatever it is.
“Ava,” Zander calls out softly.
I’m already in bed, the lights out, and part of me wants to fake sleep.
Sometimes in life, you get a gut feeling that something you are about to hear or do will be life changing. I knew letting that door close in the stairwell on me the first night I spent here was life changing. And so, when Zander gets home and tells me he needs to speak to me in private as soon as Van is asleep, I know this will be one of those times, too. And apparently, I am a coward, because I avoid Zander as much as possible as soon as I realize this.
I stayed close to Van, making sure I was showered and ready for bed while he was still awake. Then, when Zander put him to bed, me spinelessly not tucking him in, I snuck into his bedroom and turned off all the lights before diving under the covers to fake being asleep.
It is incredibly chicken of me, but my stomach churns and my blood pumps through my body like a booming pulse on a fast drumbeat. It vibrates through my body, setting a dooming tempo.
“Ava, I know you’re awake.” Zander sits on the bed, the mattress dipping, and I debate whether to answer him or not. “I know you’re scared, but I need to tell you something, and I need you to be strong.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, hating how calm and understanding he sounds. Then I take a deep breath and force myself to sit up.
Zander turns on the side light as I try to prepare myself for whatever he’s about to say. Maybe it won’t be as bad as I think.
“Give me your hands.” He motions for me to sit in front of him.
His legs are spread out wide as he leans back against the headboard. Perhaps if my mind wasn’t in a panic, I might have noticed how odd this position is.
“What?”
“Just trust me,” he says, holding out both his hands until I place mine in his, sitting between his open legs, facing him. I ha
d to move out from the blankets to rest on top with him, but there is still a body of space between us.
As his hands engulf mine, regardless of whether this is his intention, I feel warmth and comfort from his hold. I never thought I had small hands—they seem average to me—but in Zander’s grip, they feel small.
He holds my gaze, and I watch him ready himself to tell me whatever he needs to say. As much as I don’t want to hear it, I can easily see he has no wish to tell me this news, either.
“We are still analyzing the video. There are hundreds on there, all differing lengths and quality. We want to be able to have concrete evidence when we hand this up the chain. I want to have at least some of those women identified, I want some of the perpetrators known, and I want things to begin to happen immediately. I want arrests made, investigations opened, and I want this already blown wide open so no one can put a lid on it.”
I nod, carefully agreeing, not sure where the bad news lies.
“And so far, we’ve been able to identify three of the women. It’s not many, but unfortunately, not many of these women have people who care enough about them to file a missing person’s report. The ones who do, they have been missing a long time. Their photos aren’t easy to match up.”
“Okay …” I tentatively say, feeling sad for those women who life seems to have given up on them.
“And the men who are hurting them are rarely seen on screen. The videos are focused on the victims and their pain and injuries. But we have gotten a few breaks. We have been able to get footage of eight separate men. We’re running their faces now to see if we can match them up.”
“That’s good, right?”
“It is … but it’s also not,” he answers cryptically.
“Why?”
“Because …” He takes a deep breath, his entire attention on me as he takes another long breath before he rocks my world. “One of the men is Clarke.”
My mouth drops open, my heart stops beating altogether, and black spots appear before my eyes.
“Ava!” Zander growls, his grip tightening around my hands as I struggle to get free from him.
What the hell? Brian tortured women? He … He raped and murdered them?
I feel sick, my stomach roils, my body flushes from hot to freezing cold in seconds, and I feel dizzy as my head and body violently shake.
Who is making that awful sound? It hurts my ears, stabbing my eardrums. Finally, black spots grow so large I can’t see anything else. And then I find myself in Zander’s lap, his arms wrapped tightly around me, his body rocking mine gently, and I hear the thumping of his heart heavy against his chest.
I still try to get free, needing to get out of here. Needing to be away from this stifling room, this room where the words still echo around me that Brian is not just some sicko who enjoys watching women being hurt. He is someone who likes to inflict the pain himself.
Maybe it isn’t a big leap, but the difference for me is the size of a canyon.
“I … I dated … I let him into my life … He …” I break down, sobbing.
Zander holds me, letting me ride my tears out until I just have sniffles left. His shirt is drenched, but he doesn’t complain.
“None of this is your fault. Clarke is an expert in keeping his sick feelings hidden. He needed you to help with his cover as just a normal, regular guy. He would have taken extra steps to make sure you never saw that side of him.”
I suspected this earlier, but to know he needed me to cover up the fact that he was committing these acts breaks my heart all over again. Then there is the fact that, not only did I not see the monster within the man I dated, but I also helped him stay under the radar to keep doing awful things?
“What did you see him doing?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer yet feeling I deserve those sins on my conscience.
“I’m never going to share that with you, but he was in more than one. Some looked old; some newer.”
I bury my face back against Zander’s chest, feeling more like a child wanting to hide from a nightmare than a grown woman.
“How did this happen? He seemed so normal. I … Why couldn’t I see this?”
“Like I said, he’s an expert at hiding that side of himself,” Zander calmly answers.
“But I dated him for eighteen months!” I yell. Thankfully, it comes out muffled since I’m still against Zander’s shirt. I need to be mindful of Van sleeping.
“Doesn’t matter. You could have been married to him for twenty years, and if he didn’t want you to know, you wouldn’t have known.”
“But I did know he was away a lot. I did know he was distant. I knew he never shared most of himself with me. I knew all of that,” I reprimand myself.
“And I bet you figured most of that came with his job. He couldn’t discuss his work, so of course there would be gaps in his stories, gaps in the person he showed you. That is not your fault.” He says all this as he holds me tighter.
“But maybe if I had asked more questions—”
“Then he would have dumped you before you could get too close to the answer. He would have found someone else to maintain his cover, and he would have continued to be a monster. Because of you, we have proof of what he has done. No matter how this case goes, no matter how long this takes, Clarke is going down. He will never be able to harm another person again.”
Zander’s words finally sink in. It doesn’t ease the guilt and horror I feel, but it does make me feel a little better that Brian will be stopped.
This is all over for him.
I nod, taking a deep breath and embracing Zander’s scent that surrounds me.
I always feel safe with Zander, and I know I can trust him. I already feel like I know him better after a little over a week than how much I knew Brian after a year and a half. How sad is that?
Zander shuffles us until he’s leaning flat on his back with me curled at his side. We stay like this for a while.
When my eyelids begin to feel heavy, I know I should move. However, I wait a few more minutes, soaking up his embrace before I finally lean away from him. I only get a short distance before he pulls me back, though.
“Just stay a little while longer,” he begs.
I’m not sure if this is for me or him, but I take the comfort he offers and we remain in this position for the rest of the night.
The last thing I remember before sleep finally pulls me under is his steady heartbeat against my ear, his body curled around my own, and his lips gently brushing my hair.
If only we could have stayed in this bubble forever. But, of course Brian isn’t done with me yet.
Maybe he never will be.
Chapter 8
Everything goes to hell by the end of the following week.
We enter a new routine at the apartment. I stay home and work on improving Zander’s website which, to be honest, I am done with, but I have decided to give him a lot of options. By midafternoon, Van gets home, and I either watch him do his homework, which is not much, given how close it is to school ending, while I cook something or occasionally help him with it. He likes to read out loud the book his class is reading in English, and I like listening to his voice. Then, either just before I serve up dinner or after, Zander arrives home.
Every night he enters looking like he is carrying the weight of the world, and instead of letting any of that out by talking to me, he keeps hiding his obvious distress from Van and me. He doesn’t take time for himself, sitting with Van in front of the TV until it is his bedtime, playing some Medieval game that involves swords, axes, and other brutal looking weapons.
I don’t see the appeal, and I don’t think Zander really feels like doing it, but Van sure loves it. He’s vocal when they play, and many times it involves yelling at either Zander or the TV. Sometimes, I listen to him laughing, too.
After the third night of this, I asked Zander if he thought playing that game every night was a good idea, given how violent it seems. When he responded that this is
the first time since their parents had passed that Van had gotten the game out, one that he used to be obsessed with and loved, I could see why he was being so lenient. He was seeing the old Van, and they also looked like they might be bonding over it.
Van still antagonizes Zander, and Zander still slips up, perhaps on purpose, and calls him Vaughn, which always leads to an argument. I have heard many embarrassing things about Zander that Van has blurted out to me, as well as the name Agnes getting a good workout. Regardless, things are generally calmer between them. They are getting closer to where they need to be.
A new part of our routine happens after Van goes to sleep. I get ready for bed, and Zander follows suit an hour or so later, after going over whatever is still out on his dining room table.
When I first saw the piles of papers and newspapers, I thought it was a pile of mess or perhaps a hoarder’s wet dream, given the many newspapers. However, I have had the chance to look a little closer now and found it isn’t a mess at all.
The piles are stacked neatly into a certain order. The newspapers are assembled by date, and the papers, from what I can see, are copies of police reports, which are also piled in order of location and date. Zander said it is from an ongoing case. Whatever it is, it isn’t something that he apparently needs to focus on full-time.
Honestly, I think he takes the time alone to wrap his head around everything that he’s seen.
When he comes into his bedroom, we always find ourselves in the same position. Zander hugs me to his chest, and I wrap my arm around him tightly. Our bodies touch, but only for comfort and support. I sometimes think this is Zander’s way of protecting me. And I can’t say it doesn’t help me feel a little better about the situation, having a kind touch to wipe away the thoughts of the evils I know exist.
I Stole His Car (Love at First Crime Book 1) Page 13
