Page 27 of Resist Me Not (Bloody Desires #4)

Chapter fourteen

WALKER

LAST WEEK

“ Y ou seem nervous, Doctor Hammond.”

I am a fucking wreck is what I am, sitting once again across from Detective Clancy in a busy police station.

The picture of me that was a picture of me and Curtis—because Trey stole it after murdering him—is burning a hole in my pocket.

I have evidence I absolutely should be turning over to the detective to save myself from the utter insanity of dating a serial killer, and yet I…

I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t get my hand to move and pull the picture out.

I don’t want to turn Trey in. I want to see him again. I want to be with him again.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“No offense, detective, but is anyone ever not nervous while talking to the cops?” I say which, hey, at least that’s true.

“My ex is missing and you’ve called me in for the second time.

It all feels a little too unfinished, and I seriously hate it.

Just tell me what you need, and I’ll help however I can. ”

That part is less true.

I don’t want to help.

Detective Clancy taps his pen on his desk.

His classically hardboiled and grizzled persona radiates from him way more in person than over the phone.

He has a scruffy beard, longish dark hair, and even though his shirt is a bit disheveled like he just roughed somebody up, he is still wearing a tie, and has a fedora on his desk like something right out of Dick Tracy .

He’s also chewing on a matchstick like freaking Stallone in Cobra .

“I’ll get to the point then.” He tosses a manilla folder between us and opens it facing me. Right on top is a photo of me and Trey kissing in front of my building. “Trey Fisher. Travel writer and a damn difficult man to get photos of. Got lucky with this one. You’re seeing him.”

“Uh… yeah. What does that have to do with Curtis?” Besides that Trey killed him.

And the proof is in my pocket.

Fuck .

“There aren’t street cameras on Mr. Van Kirk’s block the way there are on yours, Doctor Hammond.

Unfortunate. But good police work means feet on the ground and knocking on doors, not just relying on technology.

Witnesses report seeing someone very much matching Mr. Fisher’s description near Mr. Van Kirk’s apartment building. ”

I have to stay calm. Trey coached me on this if anything pointed to him. “So what? That’s where I met Trey. He was staying across the street at the hotel there.”

“So it would seem.”

“I’m still not seeing a connection, detective.”

“What day was it that you and Mr. Fisher met?”

“August 11 th . It was the last day I saw Curtis. I went over to his place to get a textbook that I left in his apartment.”

“And how did that lead to you meeting Mr. Fisher?”

I instinctively reach toward my cheek before I can stop myself and stupidly jerk my hand back down, which obviously looks way worse.

“Something wrong, doctor?” Detective Clancy asks in this maddeningly even voice like he already knows everything inside my head.

Trey said to not lie unless I had to, and only about obvious things—like no, detective, Trey did not kill my ex and others and is absolutely going to kill more people in the future.

If it’s just a fact, state the fact, because lies that stay close to the truth are easier to keep from being found out.

And lo, the aiding and abetting continues.

“Just a bad memory, detective.” I let myself touch just beneath the cut and turn my head so he can see it.

“I know the scar is getting fainter now, but Curtis caused this that last day I saw him. He hit me and his watch sliced open my cheek. We were fighting outside his building, and Trey saw us. He saw what Curtis did. Then, before I could get my head on straight, just as Curtis was about to hit me again, Trey stopped him. To be clear, I would have punched Curtis’s lights out myself, but Trey beat me to it.

He, um, may have broken Curtis’s wrist in the process of rescuing me.

” Better to state that outright too rather than have the detective fling it at me next.

He still manages to maintain a completely impassive expression which is as maddening as his tone. “And you didn’t think to report any of that earlier?”

“I just wanted to be done with Curtis, okay? It was a bad breakup. He was an asshole. Trey was trying to help. And I figured if I reported anything, it would just blow everything up worse. From what I heard from some of Curtis’s friends and coworkers, he didn’t tell anyone about what happened either. ”

“No. According to witness reports, Mr. Van Kirk attributed his broken wrist to a…” He checked his notes. “Furniture moving mishap?”

“Guess so.”

“The truth is, Doctor Hammond, looking into Mr. Fisher was protocol. A new someone in the life of a person of interest makes them a person of interest too.”

“ I’m a person of interest?”

“You’re the missing person’s ex after a self-confessed bad breakup.

What do you think?” Okay, fair. “What worried me, however, what started to make me wonder about Mr. Fisher was just how difficult to pin down he was the more I looked into him, with just enough not known about him to paint him in a suspicious light. All circumstantial of course. No witnesses reported seeing Mr. Fisher inside Mr. Van Kirk’s apartment building. ”

Thank fuck . “I should think not. No one would have seen him there.” But not because he wasn’t. He was just too good at keeping out of sight.

“Do you know the old Sherlock Holmes quote, Doctor Hammond?” Detective Clancy leans toward me over the desk.

'When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

' There is zero evidence to suggest Mr. Van Kirk had any reason to willingly pick up and leave his life. He had a good job, loyal friends, coworkers who loved him. Everything was going well. Except for his breakup with you, a broken wrist, and an encounter with an outlier. You can understand, I assume, why that makes both you and Mr. Fisher more persons of interest than anyone else, because there is no one else. Unless of course you can shed some light on why Mr. Van Kirk would give up his entire life and vanish on his own?”

It’s okay. It’s okay. He knows nothing. He’s just suspicious and is trying to get me to admit to something to prove his theory. Without me admitting to anything, without the picture in my pocket or any other proof, he can’t touch me or Trey.

And that’s what I want, isn’t it? I want to keep Trey safe, like he kept me safe.

That makes it okay… doesn’t it?

“Doctor Hammond? Do you have anything to add?”

I could reach for the photo in my pocket right now.

I could. But I don’t. “No. Sorry. I have no idea why Curtis would leave or where he went, and frankly, I don’t care.

He was out of my life the moment I walked away from him on that street and was lucky enough to end up with Trey instead.

Thinking Trey or I am involved in Curtis’s disappearance is just grasping at straws. Can I go now?”

Detective Clancy’s steely expression bores into me. He doesn’t answer for a very long string of seconds, but I am not going to cave. Finally, he flips the manilla folder closed and snatches it back. “Yes, Doctor Hammond, you can go. But if I learn anything new, I’ll be in touch.”

I immediately push my chair back.

“And doctor? If you learn anything new, I hope you’ll stay in touch too.”

“Yeah. Will do.”

Will fucking not do.

I take a puff on my inhaler as soon as I‘m outside the police station. I manage to mostly stay calm, but I can feel the adrenaline drop from finally being out of there. My hands are shaking when I message Trey in the simplest terms possible about what happened.

He knew I took the photo. But he thanks me. He misses me.

And damn it, I miss him too.

I need to walk, clear my head. After I shove my phone back into my pocket, I don’t even know how long I just go, crossing streets and making blind turns.

It’s not until I look up and realize I’m outside the hospital that I even register my feet took me here just like the last time I needed to clear my head.

Maybe my battered conscience is trying to remind me of the good I do.

Or rubbing my face in what a contradiction I’m being to the tenets I’m supposed to espouse.

FIRST DO NO HARM.

I still go in and make my way toward the rheumatology ward to peek in on Noah.

I keep my eyes peeled for Doctor Aldrin as usual.

I really do not want to run into her today.

I know plenty of other people here well enough to just smile and wave as I pass, but with her, I think I’d somehow cave in ways I didn’t with the detective and just spew at her that I’m dating a serial killer and need a serious intervention.

Lucky for me—or Trey—both?—I don’t see her.

But I do see Noah, in his room, playing a game with his sister.

His parents are there too, talking quietly on the other side of the room.

I feel like I’d be intruding to go in. I once again don’t have Zappy to give back to Noah.

I owe the kid his plushie back. I kept meaning to plan another visit but every time I saw that damn matcha and its stupid smiling face on my bedside table, I’d think…

How can I face someone I have worked so hard to help when I’m helping someone else whose purpose in the world is to hurt ?

Does it help more people to let Trey get away with what he does, if the people he’s killing deserve it?

I can’t answer that yet, and it’s both why I couldn’t turn Trey in, and why I can’t go in to visit Noah now.

Next time, I tell myself, as I turn back to head down the hall. Next time I will.

And I’ll be sure to bring Zappy.

PRESENT DAY

“Earth to Walker?”

“Huh?”