Page 50 of Carter

Carter: I will.

I don’t respond after that. I get up, grab my half-empty cup of coffee and go to the kitchen to fill it up. I add a dash of creamer to it, and look out the window, into my small backyard. The neighbor behind me is close enough I can see through their windows when it’s dark and their lights are on inside. I should go over there and tell them to close the blinds or buy some curtains. It’s exactly how people are able to watch and learn your routines to break into your house—or worse.

I look around my backyard, the grass a dull color, with chunks of it covered in snow. A small shed sits in the back left corner. There’s a bunch of junk in there from the last owners that I haven’t gone through yet. I’ll do it this spring, once it warms up. Get rid of what I can’t use. Fix what I can.

For a moment, I consider buying a patio set. Making a fire pit. Getting a swing.

But what’s the point? I’ll never use it. I work too much.

But what if I did use it? I could sit out there with a beer in the summer. Get a grill, too. Maybe invite some guys from work. Or maybe Carter…

I shake my head. What is wrong with me?

I sip my coffee and turn around to go back to my office to keep working on these files. It’s the only thing that keeps my mind busy enough to not think about impossible things.

Chapter eighteen

Carter

Nash and I were supposed to meet yesterday to chat about the case, but something came up and he wasn’t able to. He didn’t give me any information, and I can’t help but wonder if it has to do with Ryan’s case. I know he’s working on other cases, and it is sort of selfish to hope it’s all about me, but I can’t help it. It’s been almost three years, and I still have no answers.

Of course, there are people who have waited much longer. I know that. But this is the one place I allow myself to be selfish.

I’m stacking shelves, helping readers, and cleaning up as I go. I keep feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket but every time I check it, there’s no new notifications. I’m waiting for Nash to reach out; there’s no doubt about that. Maybe I should just text him and ask, but I’m afraid of the answer. What if it has nothingto do with Ryan? Or what if it does? Not having answers is about as scary as getting them at this point.

I’ve been living this life for three years now. I don’t know how to do anything else. How will I live after this? What if things don’t get better after we find out who killed Ryan? That’s what I’ve always latched onto, and if I don’t have that, what do I have?

My phone does actually vibrate this time, over and over. I pull it from my pocket and see Nash’s name on the screen.

“Hello?” I answer in a whisper, then hurry to the back room so I’m not disturbing anyone.

“I have an update.”

A wave of relief hits me, but then panic strikes next. “Can we meet tonight? About six? I’ll buy you dinner.”

He’s going to buy me dinner…

It’s just dinner so we can talk about the case. Nothing more. But ever since Kane put that thought in my head, I can’t help but wonder if maybe it is something more.

It’s not. It’s really not. It’s just all my emotions being kicked up about this case. That’s it.

“Sure, where do you want me to meet you?”

“What’s easy for you?”

I scan the area in my head, trying to figure out where I could get to by six that isn’t further away from home. I don’t want to ask him for a ride home, so the closer I am when it gets dark, the better.

“There’s an Italian place on the corner of 51st and 3rd.”

“I’ll see you then.”

He ends the call. Just like that. No small talk. No “how are you?”

It’s unusual for him to be so distant with me, which only makes me think I’m about to get some bad news.

Worst case scenario, he’s closing the case because there’s nothing there. Instantly, I get a heavy pit in my stomach. Tearsburn my eyes. How will I handle that? How can I go the rest of my life feeling like this? If he closes it, there goes my hope.

Nash can’t close the case. He can’t. We have to find the person who did this. We have to keep working. If he wants to meet to tell me he’s closing the case, I’ll do whatever I can to change his mind. Ryan deserves justice. The man who killed him doesn’t deserve to be on the street, breathing air when Ryan isn’t.