He gives a short laugh. “That was my fantasy. I’d made a mistake, but I’d redeem myself and win the girl. Instead, she told me I had to run, for the sake of the cause. She wished
me all the best. A kiss-off. That’s what it was. Thanks for saving me, Paul. Thanks for protecting me. Now get the hell away from me.”
He shifts in the bed. “Today I had the chance to fix it. I panicked, like after I beat up that officer. That’s why I took the pills. But when I woke up, I was relieved. Relieved that I was alive and relieved that I could turn myself in. I know that sounds crazy. But I just wanted to be caught. And now this poor guy is dead—because of me. And I get to go free. That’s not fair. Not fair at all.”
TWENTY-ONE
I’m behind the station with Dalton. Isabel and April came to take care of the patients, and we ended up here, on the back deck. Dalton takes my hand and sits, and he pulls me down with him. I’m sitting there, his arms around me as I lean back against his chest.
“That’s what you felt like, isn’t it?” he says.
I don’t ask what he means. I know. He’s asking if I wanted to be caught for the murder of Blaine Saratori. If, while I’d been unable to turn myself in, there’d been some part of me hoping I’d be found out. Hoping I’d face justice.
“Yes,” I say.
Silence. I feel his heart thudding against my back.
Then he asks, “Do you still feel like that?”
“No.”
He nods. I twist to face him and say it again, to be clear. He needs that. A part of Dalton will always be that boy taken from his parents. The boy who lost his family and came to Rockton, to a world where he loses everyone. Every person who comes into his life leaves again. While he’s accepted that, he’s not sure how to deal with actually wanting someone to stay.
We all learn that lesson, in our way. People enter our life, and whether or not they stay isn’t really up to us. The uncertainty is so much easier to cope with if we just inoculate ourselves against it, as Dalton has. People come, and people go, and he’s learned to enjoy what time he has with them, but he allows no one to be so important that he’ll grieve their loss for long.
Now he has me, and he had to acknowledge this fear. The fear that I might go or that I might be taken from him. If I still feel like Paul—if I’m secretly hoping to be caught—might I decide to turn myself in someday? Is this just another of the endless ways he could lose me?
So I reassure him, and then I lean against him as his arms tighten around me.
“I remember when I met you,” he says. “You thought you were in danger of being arrested, and how you still tried to cut a deal with me. If we took Diana, you’d stay behind.”
“Because you didn’t want me here.”
“I didn’t want you because you didn’t want to come. I needed a detective who gave a damn.”
“I did.”
“You cared about your job, yeah. But up here your job is your life. You can’t care about one and not the other. You do now. But if someone like Garcia came for you…”
I twist to look at him again. “I can’t imagine that ever happening. It’s been thirteen years, and no one’s looking anymore. I was attacked because my boyfriend was a rich-brat student dealing drugs on someone else’s turf. A few months later, Blaine was shot. The police figured it was the same guys, and my biggest worry, at the time, was that they’d catch them and they’d have alibis for Blaine. That never happened. It’s a cold case that no one cares about.”
He nods, but I can tell he’s still worrying.
I continue. “When I thought Blaine’s grandfather had tracked me down, yes, I was ready to accept my fate. I was also willing to come up here with Diana until you made it clear you didn’t want me. If the council had let you take her and not me, I wouldn’t have turned myself in, Eric. I still wasn’t ready for that.”
“The council didn’t refuse your deal with Diana. I never asked them.”
My brows lift. “What?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t like your offer. Fucking martyrdom. I wanted you to fight. To tell me you’d be a damn fine detective if I let you come. When you tried to cut that deal, I wanted to take you up on it. But…”
“You decided to give me a chance?”
“No. I really needed a detective, and there wasn’t much chance of me getting another one.”
I thump back against his chest, laughing. “Fair enough. I can’t imagine anyone will reopen my case, Eric. Even if they did, I’m here. But on the very, very slim chance that someone comes for me, I’m not going to put my hands behind my back for the cuffs. Nor am I going to swallow a bottle of sleeping pills.”
“You think Garcia did come for Paul? It happened in Washington, and that’s where Garcia’s from.”