"Come home with me. We'll make late lunch, decompress, get some rest with the phones shut off. I'll even put on some Christmas music," I said when we paused by the car.
"Are you sure you're up for company this soon?" His hands rubbed up my arms slowly.
In all honesty, I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. My unanswered questions wouldn't let me retreat to that dark place again. A bigger part of my heart knew I needed someone, a friend, ears to listen and not judge me. Devlin now, was the only soul alive who knew even a fragment of the truth.
The tires of a car crunched over the rock drive behind Downey Division. My eyes drifted, watched Tony Briscoe emerge, joined simultaneously by Johnny. Briscoe's lips moved. Johnny's head turned toward me. Our eyes met.
Nothing there. Not anger, not recognition, not even curiosity.
I looked up at Devlin, unable to hide the pain I felt. "Please come home with me. I don't think I can bear to be alone right now."
He nodded. "Whatever you need, Helen. I'm here."
I climbed into the car, wishing for the numbness I'd felt earlier, but sucked so deeply into the pain caused by Johnny's vacant gaze, I could see nothing else. Emotional pain created an oubliette of another kind, one where the forgotten place was my role as a detective. I failed to grasp all of the little things that didn't quite add up about this case, about who Mitch Southerby was, who sent him, why Datello was driving the vehicle we apprehended this morning, or even the charcoal gray Mercedes so terribly out of place in the lot behind Downey Division.
But somewhere in my brain, the shadowy man in the vehicle registered, the faint smile on his face when he watched Dev take me away from Johnny.
What difference did any of it make? I'd done what I came to Darkwater Bay to do, but in the process lost the one thing that truly mattered to me. Fear that Johnny was forever lost to me, that it was my fault entirely, made me miss a glaringly important clue.
None of this made any sense, the motive, the returned from the dead Southerby, the made-to-order evidence against Sullivan Marcos. I felt like someone else was pulling the strings, someone I hadn't seen yet, or found yet.
Or this was fatigue in its deepest form. Mental, physical, emotional, spiritual. I was ground down to a bloody nub, and even if I did miss the boat on a thing or two here and there, it probably didn't matter.
The questions would fade away into the mists in this godforsaken city. Maybe all of its secrets would be swallowed into the belly of a forgotten place. For today, I'd had enough. I had my revenge. Danny Datello was behind bars where he belonged.
Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
The Eriksson Series by LS Sygnet
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44