Page 146 of Detectives in Love

My stomach twists. “Wait—was he following us?”

Xavier doesn’t answer. His eyes are narrowed, his thoughts miles away.

“Xavier,” I say, trying to pull him back. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

He finally looks at me, like he’s still figuring out how to start.

“Did you lure him here?” I ask, serious—though I already have a feeling I know the answer.

“No,” Xavier says, just as serious. “At least, not on purpose.”

“What does that mean?” I sigh, feeling frustration and panic start to twist together in my chest. “We could’ve been killed in our sleep. I think I deserve to know what’s going on. So just tell me.”

Xavier pinches the bridge of his nose. “Remember yesterday, at Willand’s office, when I said Mrs. Bridge called me about the laptop?”

“Yeah, so?” I say, still not following.

“I thought the killer might be listening. So I lied. I wanted to see what he’d do.”

“Listening?” I falter, confused. “But there were only five of us. I don’t think Rishetor or Katie had anything to do with Bridge’s death, so…what does that mean? You don’t think it’s Crowley?”

“No,” Xavier says, the corner of his lips twisting bitterly. “As much as I hate her.”

“Wait.” It hits me. “You mean Willand’s office is bugged?”

He nods.

“So when you said that about the laptop—” I start, then fall silent.

“I didn’t plan for him to kill her,” Xavier says, voice suddenly raw. “I thought he’d break into her place to look for the laptop. I didn’t think…” He trails off, the regret bleeding into every word.

I place my hand over his, trying to steady him. “I know you didn’t.”

“And I didn’t know he’d come here either,” he says, looking away. “Or I wouldn’t have been lying in bed with you.”

“I know,” I say, squeezing his hand, my anger already gone. Then I frown. “But how did the killer know where we live?”

Xavier shrugs. “We’ve been on the news. He probably recognized me yesterday or something—put two and two together.”

I pause, thinking. “And there’s nothing important on the laptop? That was all a lie?”

Xavier nods. “Sorry I didn’t tell you yesterday.” He meets my eyes. “I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you. I was just…exhausted. I wanted to go to bed. Yesterday was kind of…”

“Overwhelming,” I say quietly, finishing the thought for him.

He smiles faintly. “Yeah.” Then, after a pause: “How’s your leg?”

“It hurts,” I admit, keeping my face as blank as I can. “But it’s nothing compared to when the Carver cut me.” I try to sound light.

Xavier’s expression darkens. His jaw locks; the softness drains from his eyes.

“Don’t bring him up,” he mutters, and there’s a darkness in his voice he’s never put into words before. “I still wish they’d shot him instead of arresting him.”

His gaze drifts over the scars on my chest before meeting my eyes.

I nod but don’t say anything. I wanted that too. Wanted the Carver to rot in the ground this whole time—especially during those first six months, when the nightmares woke me up night after night.

Knowing he’s still out there, even if it’s behind bars, still makes me wonder: what if he escapes one day? What if he comes after me? After Xavier? What if he shows up in the dark, like Bridge’s killer did just now? I know it’s unlikely he’ll escape. But things like that happen, and even if the chances are low, they’re never zero.