Obsessed

by Bella Winters

  “Anything?” Peter says, nudging me out of my head again.

  “Um, it could be, uh, this one,” I say, pointing to one of the pictures.

  But I can’t be sure if the car is ringing a bell with me because it’s blue, the color of Trevor’s car, or if it’s the same model.

  I don’t mention this to Peter. Something tells me that now isn’t a good time to go down that road with him.

  He clicks on the image to enlarge it. “The Mazda 2. That’s good.”

  “It is?” I try not to sound too surprised.

  “Yes. It’s fairly new. The first ones came out just a few years ago. Which means my guys won’t have to go through decades of sales records.”

  “So, what’s the plan?”

  He closes the laptop and turns his full attention to me. “Well, I got a call this morning saying they got a match for a Trevor Reed registered at UMass.”

  “Are they going to pick him up?” My excitement is evident, but only for a second, because Peter shakes his head.

  “We don’t have enough evidence yet. But,” he brings his hand up to stroke my cheek, “we do have a home address. That’s something.”

  “Okay.” I place a soft kiss to his palm before taking his hand in mine.

  It feels so normal to be sitting in bed with him like this, talking and touching. But I know that’s only half true. Because the topic of our conversation is the most abnormal thing. The circumstances that brought Peter and I together again after all these years are definitely not normal. It weighs over us like this heavy, black cloud, and now more than ever do I just want it to be over so that I can experience what being normal with Peter feels like. I have a sneaking suspicion that it’ll be beautiful.

  “So, Ross will head up surveillance starting today,” Peter says, “and I’ll call this description through in a minute.”

  “They’re going to just watch him?” The idea that Trevor is still out there, going about his creeper ways freaks me out.

  “It’s our best option right now. According to the evidence, this guy hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “Yet.”

  “I know how you feel, but who knows? We could get lucky running his plates. If there are any misdemeanors against his name, it’ll give us an excuse to bring him in.”

  “That’s it?” My heart sinks. It doesn’t sound like much of a plan. “What if you find nothing? What if he hurts someone else during all this waiting?”

  Peter leans forward to place the laptop at the foot end of the bed, then takes me in his arms. I pull up my knees and snuggle into his chest. Hearing his steady heartbeat right there calms me down instantly.

  “I know this might seem like a lot to ask, mostly because you have no reason to do it, but I need you to trust me, Emily.”

  I look up at him then, because I need him to see how much I mean it when I say, “I trust you, Peter. I always have.”

  He lowers his head to mine, and I instinctively close my eyes in sweet anticipation of what I know is coming. He’s so close I can feel his lips gently grazing mine, which immediately sets them on fire. I part my lips for him.

  “You need a shower.”

  My eyes fly open, and I can’t believe it, but I’m seeing that signature Peter grin again.

  “And some toothpaste, too,” he says, his shoulders shaking with the way he’s laughing.

  “Ugh, you’re the worst.” I begin pelting him with every available pillow on the bed.

  Peter raises his hands to shield my unforgiving blows while he edges off the bed to safety. But if he thinks moving out of reach is going to save him, he clearly doesn’t know me very well. I jump up, grabbing a pillow in each hand, and set off after him. Peter just about makes it to the door before I’m close enough to lay into him. But my revenge is horrible, because I can hardly breathe I’m laughing so much.

  “Aaah, okay, okay, uncle. Uncle!”

  I try to get in one more shot, but Peter’s reflexes are too sharp. He moves quick as a flash, getting a solid grip on both my wrists. Bringing them down to my sides, he steps into me. He presses up so close I can feel him getting hard through the light cotton of his boxers.

  The pillows drop to the floor, forgotten weapons of feathered destruction, and I go up to meet his lips with mine. I haven’t kissed very many people in my life, but I’m prepared to take a stand right this minute and declare that Peter is by far the best.

  He frees my wrists and snakes his arms around me, pulling me closer as I wrap mine around his neck.

  “Seriously, though,” he says, breaking from my mouth to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, “I meant what I said about the shower,” and into my neck, “we have plans.”

  My head rolls back, indulging in the amazing feel of him. “Hmm, what could be more urgent than us getting back into bed?”

  Peter straightens to look at me, his hand coming up to fix my hair behind my ear. I lean into his touch, so soft for someone who exudes so much strength at any given time.

  “I can think of a few things,” he says, “but I’ll start with breakfast.”

  My stomach grumbles as if on cue.

  Freshly showered and dressed, we pull into the parking at Dunkin’ a cool fifteen minutes after the impromptu pillow fight. Peter had mentioned something about showing me his favorite breakfast place in Boston, but I suggested we leave that for another time.

  I’m not even sorry that he has to learn about my chronic beef with hunger at this point in our relationship. In fact, I’d rather he understood the delicacy of the situation early on, and so prevent any catastrophic meltdowns in the future.

  When we get inside, I’m immediately punched in the face by mouth-watering aromas of baked goods and fresh coffee.

  “The blueberry muffins look really good,” Peter says. “I think I’ll go with one of those.”

  He orders a coffee with the muffin, and then motions with his head for me to place my order.

  “I’ll have the bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, please. Also the hash browns. And that blueberry muffin does look good, you’re right,” I mutter to Peter, whose eyes are large as he watches me order. “Yes, I’ll take one of those, too.”

  He’s shaking his head and chuckling to himself as he goes to hand the cashier his card.

  “Oh, and a vanilla chai, please.”

  Peter pauses and looks at me. “Where are you planning on putting it all?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  He smiles and gives the cashier a nod to go ahead and ring up the order.

  Despite the shaky start to my morning, the rest of the day with Peter turned out to be just what I needed. After the perfect breakfast, we put off going to my apartment till last. Instead, we drive to the Public Garden, where we walk and talk for hours. I introduce Peter to one of my favorite games: watching people from afar and filling in funny dialogue they might be having. I laughed so hard at some of his scenarios, my overfull stomach began to ache.

  Then we stopped for soft pretzels and Peter led me to a spot under a weeping willow where we could savor them, and each other, hidden from the rest of the world. Even while it was happening, I knew that I was in the middle of a memory I would end up cherishing forever.

  Finally, there was no more putting it off and we had to go back to my apartment before dark. The drive there was uncharacteristically quiet. Peter tried to break the tension, but I was just too anxious about going back there. I was grateful when he stopped trying and gave me the space I needed.

  I thought it would be the hardest thing ever, going back and getting my stuff. But as soon as I walked in, the apartment felt like a stranger’s home. It didn’t feel at all like I had lived there for years. It just wasn’t my space anymore. Not after being violated by that creep.

  The couch where I used to love spending my free time watching Netflix, my bed where so many late-night assignments were finished—they were all just cold, empty pieces of furniture in a cold, empty apartment.

  By the ti
me Peter had stowed the last of my books and bags in the trunk, I had officially made peace with saying goodbye to that part of my life. I had no interest in ever getting it back.

  “You okay?” he asked, as we pulled out of the parking lot and headed home.

  I watched my apartment building shrink in the side-view mirror, and nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

  When I reached out for him, his hand grasped mine, giving it a good squeeze. The simplest of gestures, and yet it made such a huge difference. In that moment, I was endlessly grateful that Peter was with me. And for the first time in days, I felt truly safe.

  Chapter Ten

  Peter

  I hear the shower door close and the tell-tale burst of water. Once I’m certain Emily won’t be walking into the kitchen again, I pick up my phone and reopen the email. Ross sent it through last night and although this is the fourth time I’m reading it, the feeling of dread that steals up my spine isn’t any lesser.

  Hey, Chief,

  Quick update:

  Forensics on McAfee’s apartment came back. No matches in database. (That was a long shot anyway.)

  No sign of the Reed kid at given address or at the school. Checked with admin—he’s missed all his classes this week.

  We got a few hits on the BOLO issued for the Mazda. All have both tail lights intact, none registered to Reed.

  This kid is laying low, Chief. He likely knows we’re onto him.

  You know what that means….

  I kill my mailing app and toss my phone onto the kitchen counter. The knot in the pit of my stomach gives an angry churn, and the taste of bile rises into my mouth. As far as dead-ends go, this update from Ross is a shining example of the worst kind.

  And I can’t have Emily find out about it. I promised I would keep her safe, that I’d get this guy. If she had any idea how badly the investigation was going—

  “Penny for your thoughts.” Emily appears at my side out of thin air and wraps her arms around me.

  She’s wearing a towel and nothing else, her wet hair seeping into my uniform shirt where she’s resting her head on my shoulder.

  “Just a penny?” I turn to face her and plant a kiss on her damp forehead. “I tell you what, if you sweeten the deal, I might be in the mood to share.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Her eyes light up with that playful glint I’ve come to know so well. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

  She’s so adorable when she gets all flirty like this. It kills me to have to turn her down.

  “It doesn’t matter what I have in mind,” I say with a sigh, and pull out of her arms. “I have a day from hell, and if I don’t get started now, it’ll never end.”

  Emily pouts. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” She takes my hand and guides it under the flap of her towel.

  The skin underneath it is unbearably soft and warm.

  “Oh, that’s not fair.” I dig my fingers into the sumptuous flesh on her hip and pull her toward me. “You’re not playing fair at all.” I kiss her then, savoring the minty fresh taste of her.

  I must be losing my mind. Because there’s no place I’d rather be than here with her, and yet I break the kiss. She gives a disappointed groan, but I quickly busy myself getting my stuff together so that I don’t have to deal with it.

  “What’s a few minutes?” she says, following me as I grab my phone and go through to the living room for my wallet and keys.

  “Emily, you know I would if I could. But—” I take a breath, and that’s all the time I need to make the decision to lie to her “—there’s a lead I have to follow up.”

  Her face changes to one of open surprise. I feel like complete dog shit.

  “What lead? Peter, why didn’t you just tell me? What did they find? Is he—”

  “I only just heard,” I say, falling into another lie. “Ross didn’t give me much detail, but I’m going to meet up with him now and we’ll take it from there.” And another.

  A look of sheer relief washes over her, and she beams at me. “I have to admit I feel a lot better hearing that. It’s been days and nothing. I was beginning to think I was doomed to live my life on the run.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s how these things go,” I say with a shrug and go to leave. “Oh, and please remember—”

  “Keep the door locked, stay inside, don’t go close to the windows,” she whines in a tired, sing-song voice. “Yeah, I got it, Chief. I’ll behave.”

  “You better,” I say, and close the door behind me.

  I don’t move until I hear her turn the key from the inside. And even after the sound of her bare feet padding across the floor fades away, I stay rooted to the spot. Because I’m not looking forward to what I have to do next.

  I take a few deep breaths, clenching and unclenching my fists. Like a fighter getting ready for a championship bout. “You got this, Peter,” I mumble to myself.

  I don’t care what I must look like, doing this in the middle of the hall; it’s helping. It calms me down and clears my head. That’s why I always psych myself up like this when I’m about to see my dad.

  The car dealership is having a busy morning and I have to park quite a distance from the doors. As I make my way to the entrance, I’m assaulted by colorful balloons, loud music, and appetizing smells wafting out of the taco truck set up in the parking lot. It’s like a party out here, with sales guys all over, charming the customers with impressive specs and low, low prices.

  And to think, this was almost my legacy. To say that my dad was mad at me when I cut ties with him is an understatement. For years, the rift between us has weighed me down, but now I have a little perspective. If I didn’t walk away from him back then and make a career for myself as a cop, I wouldn’t have walked into the station that night and I wouldn’t have reconnected with Emily.

  A caustic laugh bubbles inside of me. Can it be? My dad played a role in Emily and me being together? It’s insane. Almost as insane as I am for coming back here to ask for his help. I hate that I have to do it. I hate that there are times when I still need him. But if it works out, then I won’t have been lying to Emily before when I told her I had a lead.

  “Was that a pig that just went flying past?”

  I’m caught off guard by my dad standing at the open trunk of a Lincoln SUV. I wasn’t expecting to run into him out here. I thought I’d have the time it took to get inside, ask for his office, and knock on his door to get my wits about me.

  “I think you’re right,” I say, and offer him my hand.

  Treating him with any kind of civility grates my last nerve, but I know I have to play nice if I plan to get any information out of him. A part of me silently hopes that he’s learned how to do the same over the years.

  He looks at my outstretched hand, but doesn’t take it. Instead, he turns to the customer he was dealing with and says, “If you’d excuse me for a moment.”

  My dad motions with his head for me to follow him and goes off in the direction of the building.

  “If you’re here for a kidney, you’re on your own,” my dad says as we walk into his office.

  I’m surprised by how tidy it is. There’s a family picture hanging on the wall. There’s no one in it that I know, aside from my dad. Something squeezes in my chest, but I brush it aside. The neatness of his desk puts mine to shame. It’s all very out of character for the man who I remember as being fine with leaving his worn underwear in the middle of the bathroom floor.

  I want to tell him that I wouldn’t come to him for a kidney if he was my last hope, but instead I just say, “It’s about a case I’m working on.”

  He nods and sits down behind his desk. I take the seat opposite him, even though he didn’t offer it to me. “Well? What do you need?”

  That’s it. No pleasantries. No, How have you been, Peter? I haven’t seen you in years. How is life treating you?

  I’d be lying if I said I’d expected anything different. Right now I’m just relieved he hasn’t sent me on my way.

&
nbsp; “We’re trying to trace a potentially dangerous man,” I say. I can’t give him too many details, but I know I have to make him understand how important this is. “He drives a Mazda 2, and our records show that only a few have been sold in the Boston area over the past four years. This dealership is the only one in our trace radius, so it’s more than likely he got it here.”

  “Makes sense. Now, if you don’t mind cutting to the chase, Petey, as you saw outside I’m kinda busy.”

  I clench my jaw so tightly, a spark of pain shoots down my neck. I’ve always hated it when he called me that.

  “I’m working a lead and need you to give me your sales records for the—”

  “Do you have a warrant?”

  My mind flashes red. I can’t believe this man. The anger and irritation building up inside me are becoming more and more difficult to keep at bay. It was hard enough coming over here in the first place, and now he has to be an asshole on top of it.

  “We’re working on it,” I say, keeping an even tone. “I just thought in the meantime, if you could—”

  “Petey, Petey, Petey,” he says, shaking his head in mock disappointment as he leans back in his chair and sets his feet on his desk. “And here I thought you were this upstanding, law-abiding citizen. You know you have no right to my data without a court order.”

  “This is urgent. The warrant is coming, I’ll send it right over when it does. But it doesn’t make sense to waste time waiting around for it when you can just give me the records now.”

  If he knew about Emily, that her life was in danger, it may soften him up. As horrible as he was during our time as a family, he had a soft spot for her. But I don’t know how to bring her into the conversation without telling him the truth about us. A truth that I’m certain he won’t be happy about after what Emily told me about her mom.