Page 17

17

LENNY

I woke with a jolt and sat up, slamming into a hard surface. My hands flew to my nose, pain spreading across it, a warm, sticky liquid now dripping down my face.

“Are you okay?” Stone said, mildly panicked. “You’re bleeding!”

I pulled my hands away from my face just long enough to see the red covering them. The blood dripped down onto the white shirt I wore. I jumped up and realized Stone held a hardcover book I must’ve hit my face on when I woke so suddenly.

He followed my line of sight.“I’m so sorry,” he said, rushing to the kitchen and coming back with a rag.

The rag replaced my hands, and I clung to it, hoping the bleeding would eventually stop. I couldn’t even recall the last time I’d given myself a bloody nose. A small laugh escaped my lips, and Stone looked even more concerned.

“Are you alright?” he asked as I nodded. “Are you laughing?”He tilted his head to read my face, but the rag kept it mostly covered.

“It’s just so absurd,” I laughed. “My whole life has been falling apart for years. I can barely remember when anything was simple enough that my worries were small, like nose bleeds or which book to read next.” My words came out nasally, my nose blocked by the rag.

Stone chuckled.“I know what you mean,” he said, sitting back down.

I noticed the way he nervously clasped his hands together, his arms tensing and the vines that wrapped up one arm more noticeable than ever.

“I don’t remember the last time I could just go to the bar and have a drink with colleagues. I don’t remember the days when I used to call my mom and sister to make sure they were doing okay without worrying they would know I’m not. And red—I can’t remember the last time I could see red and not be reminded of the death I caused.”

Death he caused…

That had to be a mistake. He was an agent, responsible for protecting people, myself included. There was no possible way…

“I don’t deserve that kindness,” he said at my confused look. “My partner is dead because of me.”

A pit formed in my stomach. He’d rarely mentioned his partner. I knew she died, but he never said more than that. The look of pain on his face was enough to make a wave of nausea wash over me, the blood still pouring from my nose not helping.

“Stone…” I tried.

“You asked why no one was looking for me,” Stone said, the pain in his eyes making my heart split in two. “A little under a year ago, my partner died in the field. We were supposed to be waiting for back up, but the unsub had taken a young girl hostage. Blythe wanted to go in. I knew the protocol, I knew our orders, but still, I considered it.”His face fell.

“Stone, you can’t blame yourself if you followed orders and didn’t follow her,” I said.

“I didn’t. I knew what the risk was, calculated everything that could go wrong, and I still followed her into that building,” he answered.

I reached for his hand.

You’re comforting him. He would do the same for you.

“You tried to protect her,” I said slowly.

He shook his head.“Tried and failed. We got inside, and the place was a maze. We were running out of time; the little girl had no time left. We had to find her. So, I made a choice, one I will live with for the rest of my life. I suggested we split up. It was a calculated risk. The probability of us finding her alive increased, we both had our guns, and were both trained agents.”

I listened in horror, pulling the rag away and realizing my nose bleed had finally ceased. The rag landed on the side table as I tossed it aside.

“You couldn’t have known,” I said.

“But I did. I knew from the start what the risk was. I knew the statistics of waiting for back up. The statistics of agents killed and assaulted in the field are much higher for those who do not wait.”

“Stone,” I tried, squeezing his hand even tighter. “What happened is not your fault.”

“The chance of fatality is two times higher when an agent does not wait. Two times! I never should have been okay with that number. I never should have let her go into that building. And now, I live with the consequences every single day.”

“It’s not your fault,” I repeated.

“I found her still alive,” he said. “When I arrived, it was too late. The unsub had stabbed her. I shot them, but it was far too late. She’d just fallen to the ground, limp. I’ll live with the picture of that for the rest of my life. If I had gotten there seconds earlier, maybe it would be different. The little girl lived, but Blythe didn’t. Those first few months after were brutal. I tortured myself, thinking about what I could have done differently. I drank myself into oblivion and took a leave of absence from the FBI. It wasn’t until Agent Grey found me and dragged me back to Quantico that I got sober. I knew Blythe would hate what I became, and somehow, that was far worse than hiding from the memory of what happened.”

I had no words. Nothing I could say would make this better. I wanted to pull him close, for Stone to know someone cared. I was there and listening, and I would never run from this. There may not be anyone in the world who understood this type of pain better than me.

I tortured myself with the thought of what if I never ran from the hospital. What if I had stayed and helped the police? Maybe they would have already found the killer by now.

“I’m here,” I said, the one thing I could think of that might bring him some comfort.

“I’m here, and I’m not leaving. You did everything right; you can’t keep torturing yourself like this. I didn’t know Blythe, but I can guarantee she wouldn’t want this. You don’t know if that little girl would have lived if you didn’t go in there when you did. You saved her, gave her a chance at living life. That is not nothing; it’s not something to keep tearing yourself apart over. Nothing I say can bring back Blythe or make the memory of her hurt any less, but if you are going to play that memory over and over in your mind, you need to remember what she sacrificed herself for. You saved a life, a little girl with no one else to protect her. That to me makes you both heroes.”

Stone nodded slowly, averting his gaze from mine. He stared down at my hand that he now held with both of his.

“You are covered in blood,” Stone said suddenly, as if just noticing the red on my hands.

“Let me help,” he said and jumped up from the couch.

His suitcase sat across the room, and he sifted through it, pulling out a band tee I’d never seen him wear. He handed it to me.“I’ll wash the one you’re wearing for you,” he offered.

He just shared his deepest trauma, and now he’s offering to rinse the blood from my own shirt?

Men like this didn’t exist. Stone couldn’t be real. Three years ago, I would’ve done everything to hide the stain so I wouldn’t be yelled at for it.

I stood and pulled my white shirt over my head without thinking. My bralette kept me covered, but Stone’s eyes trailed down my torso the second it was exposed. The moment his eyes halted, I knew what he saw: the grotesque scars still prominent across my skin. His gaze settled on the one I hated most.

The reminder of everything I lost that night.

“Sorry,” I muttered, trying to scramble to untangle my arms from the white shirt.

“Don’t apologize,” he said firmly, moving closer to me.His hand reached out, but he paused before touching my skin.

“It’s okay,” I told him.

His fingers brushed gently against my skin, running along the jagged scar, the stitches rushed because of how many wounds I had when I arrived.

“It’s a miracle you survived with only scars,” Stone said in awe.

“Involuntary hysterectomy,” I whispered. “Thats the price I paid. I can’t ever become pregnant again.”

My eyes dropped to the floor. The reason Jake threw me out, the thing that continued to haunt me from that night. It was why I could barely bring myself to face my brother after his announcement, why the thought of being around a baby in the family pained me, my heart breaking.

Stone’s strong hands immediately grasped my hips and pulled me in. He held me in his arms, hugging me to him. I wanted to cry, but nothing came out. Instead, I let my head fall to his chest and stood there in silence.

“We will find them,” Stone said. “We will find the Coastal Killer, and I will make sure they pay for everything they have done.”

* * *

I dug through Stone’s fridge the next morning, trying to find anything I could eat. Stone made a pot of coffee behind me, and I could feel his eyes on me every few seconds. He hadn’t stopped checking on me since the pub.I could feel his need to protect me growing by the second.

He’s worse than you two. The pair of cats at my feet just glanced up at me, waiting for breakfast.

I found a few breakfast sausages and read the ingredients on a few breakfast pastries I found, passing on each of them. By the time I scraped together a meal, we ended up with sausage, fruit, and yogurt.

Stone didn’t complain when I placed his breakfast in front of him.

My cellphone kept lighting up on the counter, but I ignored it.

Probably just Calvin or my mother.

“I think we should go back to the pub,” I said, breaking the silence we’d been sitting in for a few minutes.

“What?” Stone choked on the sausage in his mouth.

I waited for him to stop coughing before continuing.“That man from outside yesterday was there that night. I didn’t know it until I saw his face, but he was working the night I was attacked. Maybe he knows something.”.

‘Len,” Stone warned. “You really want to go back?”

I knew he would never tell me not to, but I heard the hesitation. He was looking out for me, but who would look out for the victims it was too late for? I was their only chance at justice.

“Yes,” I answered firmly.

The phone lit up again, but I ignored it, too focused on convincing Stone.My mind was made up, and no one would talk me out of it. I was ready to go back; this time, I could face it. I had to.

He sighed as he carried his plate to the sink. The water turned on, and he scrubbed the plate before collecting mine. When the water finally stopped, he turned back to me.

“Alright,” he agreed. “We go back today to chase down the last of our leads. But if you want to leave at any moment, just say the word.”

I nodded.

“I’m serious, Lenny,” he said. “One word, and we can leave.”

My phone lit up yet again, and I finally gave in, checking the screen. I had ten unread messages from an unknown phone number. I opened it and immediately dropped the phone. The screen landed with a smack on the tile floor, and I prayed it didn’t crack.

Stone was up and across the kitchen before I could pick it up. He bent down to grab it, looking at the still-open screen. His brows furrowed, and eyes narrowed on the photo I knew he saw. There, on my phone, was a picture of the most recent victim of the Coastal Killer.

It was a dark photo, taken before the sun rose. I could just make out the shape of the body on the ground.

I ran to the trash can and emptied the contents of my stomach.

Stone was immediately behind me, rubbing my back.

“Sorry,” I murmured.

“I threw up all over my partner the first time I saw a body in the field,” he admitted.

I straightened and gave him a weak smile, but it didn’t last. The other messages remained unread; I hadn’t seen them before the photo that first popped up.

“What else does it say?” I asked.

“ I did this for you ,” Stone read aloud.

“What?” I asked. “They killed them because of me?”

I knew this was coming. The killer had warned me to stop, but I didn’t listen. Neither of us did. Instead, we kept pushing on, leaving no stone unturned.

“This isn’t your fault. Stop thinking that,” Stone scolded. “They would have become emboldened eventually. If not now, maybe two years from now. There is no way to know for sure. At least now, we have more evidence to follow and can put a stop to all of this.”

“I should’ve listened. That woman is dead because of me,” I said, my stomach still turning.

“No, that woman is dead because of a serial killer,” Stone said firmly.

I grabbed a cup from the cupboard and filled it with water at the sink. My head hurt and my throat burned. The water was refreshing but not enough to fix it all.

“Do you still want to go back?” Stone asked.

“I have to,” I answered. “Let’s go.”