Page 26 of The Truth You Told (Raisa Susanto #2)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Shay

December 2012

One and a half years before the kidnapping

It felt strange attending a Christmas party with attendees who were all trying to catch a rapidly escalating serial killer.

If this were a movie, they would be locked in some mood-darkened office, with weeks’ worth of takeout debris scattered around them, the pictures of the victims taped up over every inch of wall space.

But here they were, getting boozed and stuffing their faces with tiny appetizers, and Shay couldn’t fault them for it.

Especially since this was the first time she’d seen Callum without his permanent frown in months.

It had been more than two years now since that first body had been found, and at least from where she stood, they hadn’t seemed to have made any progress.

Shay slipped Kilkenny his refilled whiskey glass, and smiled as his hand settled on the small of her back in thanks. The free bars stocked well liquor, but Shay had known one of the guys serving the drinks, and talked him into a couple of splashes of the good stuff hidden away from the masses.

Callum sighed in appreciation after the first sip.

Shay wasn’t drinking. She hadn’t told Callum why yet, hadn’t told anyone why, but he sometimes looked at her with a softness in his eyes that made her think he’d guessed. He wasn’t dumb.

She smiled as she tucked herself fully into his side and tried not to think about their future. Callum had put in a request to transfer down to the Houston office—he was there so much anyway, he literally got invited to their Christmas party. But he’d been denied.

No one had given him a good reason.

Her eyes found Xander Pierce, and she wondered.

He was a schmoozer, and she’d known too many of them to be charmed by his outgoing personality. He had his eyes locked on the director position, even if that was decades away.

Callum liked him, and he tended to be an excellent judge of character. This one time they’d have to agree to disagree.

Part of her wondered if Pierce was threatened by the attention Callum was getting because of this case. Pierce was the lead agent, and yet most of the profiles that talked about the hunt for the Alphabet Man focused on Callum instead. That was the nature of the narrative, and it was one the Alphabet Man himself had set up. But that didn’t stop Pierce from resenting it.

If she had to guess, that would be why Callum hadn’t gotten the transfer. Pierce wanted to keep him in Seattle, away from his own spotlight down here.

“Okay, give me the goss,” she whispered in Callum’s ear and got a little thrill when his lip twitched into an almost-smile. Sometimes she thought about that first night they’d met, how he’d laughed when they’d had sex, how he’d smiled so freely afterward.

That laugh, that smile, had been why she’d agreed to go back to his hotel against her better judgment the next time. And now they both made such infrequent appearances, she celebrated at the hint of one.

She touched her lower belly. Would he laugh with the baby?

Would he smile when she told him?

Would Beau? Would Max? They had to know it meant her leaving Texas. She’d be back; she could just travel along on some of the dozens of trips Callum took down here. But it wouldn’t be the same. She’d have a baby to contend with.

Neither of them would come with her, either. Callum had made sure Shay knew Max could live with them if they ever moved in together. But Max was like a cat—more attached to the place than the person who loved it.

“Those two are having an affair,” Callum said, subtly jerking his chin toward a couple on the other side of the room. He liked the image of himself as hovering above the fray, but really, he enjoyed drama. “Both married to other people, who are both here.”

He inclined his head toward another couple, also standing too close to each other.

Shay spotted both pairs and laughed. “No, babe, it’s a foursome.”

Callum choked on his drink and then studied all of them for a minute. “Or they’re cheating to get back at their respective partners and being as obvious as their spouses are to rub it in their faces.”

“I like my way better,” Shay said. And then nudged him to give her more details about these people he’d worked so closely with for so long. As he did, the tension slowly bled out of his shoulders, and she got two almost-smiles out of him.

It was a good night.

Shay began making noises about being exhausted around midnight, despite the fact that this was pretty much afternoon for her normal schedule. Still, Callum got it, because, inexplicably maybe, he got her .

“Just let me pop by my office. I have a file I want to get,” he said. “Five minutes.”

She nodded and then tried to blend into the wall so no one would talk to her. Despite being in a yearslong relationship with an FBI agent, she’d never grown comfortable around law enforcement. She couldn’t imagine that changing just because they were all toasted.

“It was nice that you guys could come,” Xander Pierce said, slipping into the spot Callum had vacated.

Shay cursed quietly. She hadn’t even noticed him crossing the room. “It was nice of you to invite him. He doesn’t really have steady colleagues otherwise.”

“Hate the circumstances, but love the silver lining of being able to work with him,” Pierce said, and he sounded genuine. But men like him tended to sound genuine even as they lied to your face. Maybe he didn’t think of it as a lie. He just didn’t want to admit, even to himself, to throwing a wrench in Callum’s life. Maybe she was creating drama where none existed.

“I know he feels the same,” Shay said, both diplomatically and truthfully. Callum didn’t suspect Pierce had been the one to block his transfer, after all.

“This probably isn’t any of my business,” Pierce said, and Shay fought a wince. No conversation that started like that ended in any other way than Shay wanting to punch someone. “But are you carrying anything?”

Shay reeled back, her hand on her womb. Then her brain caught up with the fact that he was not asking about her pregnancy in one of the weirdest ways possible. “Uh ... no?”

He nodded like that was what he’d expected. “I know Kilkenny likes to keep his work separate, but if you ever need guidance on getting a gun license ...”

“Um ...” She was nearly married to an FBI agent. If she needed help, she’d ask him. But Pierce was watching her with an intensity that made her want to step back. “Okay. Thanks.”

“I know you leave work late,” Pierce continued, and Shay did shift back this time. Of course, he’d come to the bar—he knew what her job was. It was still strange to have him reference it like that. “The attacks are ramping up. I just want everyone to be vigilant.”

And she wanted this conversation to end. “Right.”

He leaned in closer, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Look, Kilkenny would never say this. But. I think it might be wise to distance yourself from him a bit.”

“What?” Shay said, moving from scared to angry as she slowly realized what this all was. He was hitting on her.

“No one wants to talk about it, but it happens. Wives, girlfriends ... they get targeted by these monsters,” Pierce continued. He didn’t sound drunk, but he must be. “I’m just saying, you might want to think about your own safety. It might be easier to end things now before you get hurt. Or worse.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your f—”

“Hey.” Kilkenny stepped up behind her, his hand resting on the small of her back, as it had all night.

Shay stared at the floor so she wouldn’t have to meet Pierce’s eyes. The conversation had unnerved her more than it should have. There was nothing strange about the agent in charge of a serial-killer task force warning the women in his vicinity to be vigilant. And probably he’d crossed the line there at the end, but she’d experienced much worse on a normal Wednesday at the bar. If he remembered this tomorrow, he’d probably be mortified.

“Are you ready?” she asked, trying to force a smile for Callum.

“Yes,” Callum said, before shaking hands with Pierce. “See you in the New Year.”

“Hopefully not too soon,” Pierce said, seeming to settle back into himself. He didn’t look at Shay, just turned to the group of people behind them, all of whom welcomed him with raucous greetings.

The drive back to the hotel was quiet, and Callum kept shooting her curious glances. Finally, just as they were about to turn into the parking lot, he asked, “Did Pierce say something to you?”

Shay debated telling him. But what would she say? Yes, he told me to be careful and it creeped me out?

“No,” she said. “Nothing important.”

Shay and Callum’s relationship had never been about grand romantic gestures. So it made sense that Shay finally confirmed the pregnancy in a small moment.

She’d just finished the one cup of coffee she allowed herself a day, while flipping through the style section of the actual-to-goodness hard-copy newspaper Callum still received.

He cupped the back of her head as he stepped closer, holding the coffeepot with his other hand. He was moving on autopilot clearly, half-asleep on this rainy Sunday morning.

Right before he poured her a refill, he stopped himself. “Oh, right.”

Callum didn’t even seem to realize he’d said anything, just shifted back toward the counter while Shay gaped at him.

Of course, she’d known he probably knew. But she’d expected him to pretend he didn’t until she told him.

“You knew,” she accused, with fake outrage.

He froze, coffeepot midair. “Ah, shit.”

And it was just ... so them that Shay couldn’t stop herself from laughing.

Callum turned around with a sheepish smile. “I thought you were planning some kind of reveal.”

Shay loved a lot of things about their relationship. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, of course, but in a situation like this one, Callum could have jumped to the worst conclusion, could have thought she wouldn’t ever tell him about the baby, or that she regretted it had happened at all. And yet, he simply gave her the benefit of the doubt. They trusted each other. Always.

And that’s why, even though this was unplanned and scary, she had faith it would all be okay.

She stood, crossed to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed her cheek to his heart. He rested his chin against the top of her head, holding her tightly.

“Are you happy?” she whispered into his T-shirt.

“So happy,” Callum said, and sounded like he meant it. “And.”

She waited, knowing his rhythms by now.

“Terrified,” he admitted. “With my job, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted kids.”

With her childhood, Shay hadn’t been sure she would, either. She also felt like she’d been raising Max, and doing a mostly shit job at it. Still, she hadn’t been disappointed when she’d taken the test and it had come back positive.

“I see all the ways the world can be cruel. I see the evil in people, so much more than I get to experience the good in them,” Callum continued. “But even though I’m scared, I still want to. Because it’s with you.”

“We’ll protect them,” Shay said, even if she knew she couldn’t actually promise that. She could promise that she would do anything in her power to try. Just like she had for Max.

Callum hugged her tight and then lifted her off her feet, spinning her around. She clutched at him, surprised by the silly gesture but laughing the entire time.

When he set her down again, he pressed his smile against her own. “We’re having a baby.”

There would be time to talk more about all the reasons this was a frightening thing.

Right now ... right now was for joy.

“We’re having a baby,” she whispered back.

Shay and Max had never recovered completely solid footing in their relationship after Shay found the serial-killer box. They were close, but the easy trust had been shattered, and for someone who’d had an upbringing like Max, people didn’t get second chances.

Max was never more outwardly hostile to her than any other teenager would be, and most of the time Shay couldn’t even sense the rift.

But she was nervous now. Telling Max about the baby and getting only polite, lukewarm congratulations was going to make that void seem vast, dark, and deep.

Inspiration struck when she was driving Max to her first therapy session of the year. Dr. Greene had long ago shifted Max off to a colleague who specialized in PTSD in abused children. It made it easier for Shay to be friends with Tori, and Max seemed to like her new therapist—as much as she could—so it worked out for the best.

They still took the same route, and Shay remembered that day in Galveston. It had been one of their last great days together. Suggesting they take the trip again could tarnish the memory or it could recapture its joy, and Shay decided to go for optimism.

“It’s winter,” Max said, but Shay knew her sister and that wasn’t a no.

The ice cream shop wasn’t open, but it didn’t matter. They sat on the mostly empty beach and watched the ocean in contented silence.

“You’re pregnant,” Max finally said, and Shay laughed and laughed and laughed until she fell back into the sand, breathless.

“What? You are,” Max said, her lips twitching. Sometimes she reminded Shay of Callum that way, scared of her own amusement.

“I feel like I’m wearing a sign or something,” Shay said, pushing back up into a sitting position. She took a risk and scooted close enough that her shoulder pressed against Max’s. Max stiffened but didn’t move away. “I’ve been building up to tell you for a week, and you already knew.”

“You stopped drinking, girl,” Max said, with a sly look. “You might as well be walking around with neon.”

Shay buried her face in her hands, but laughed.

“Does this mean you’re leaving?” Max asked after a few more minutes of silence.

“Yeah,” Shay said on a sigh. “Callum tried to get moved down here even before I told him about the baby, but ...”

“Red tape,” Max finished the thought.

“You can come with us.”

“Ha, our own fucked-up little Brady Bunch ? No, thank you,” Max said, as expected.

“Not to be, like, an after-school special, but you’re always welcome with us,” Shay said. “I just needed that said once, and now I’ll drop it.”

“You said it twice,” Max murmured, but without any bitterness.

Shay nudged her shoulder. “I can say it as many times as you need to hear it, too.”

“Beau would be lonely without me,” Max said, and Shay didn’t know if that was true. She thought Beau might be like one of those trees that flourished after you cut its invasive neighbor down, finally able to get full sun for the first time in years. It wasn’t a flattering thought for either her or Max, so she kept her mouth shut. “Is Callum going to put a ring on it?”

“Yeah,” Shay said with a laugh. She wasn’t necessarily into the idea of weddings or marriage, but she was into the idea of promising herself to Callum for a lifetime. And he was a little old-fashioned in that regard. Not that he would have forced the issue, but she knew he wanted to marry her. “It won’t be anything fancy. But you can be my maid of honor.”

“Oh, yippee, an ugly dress,” Max said, with such fond amusement that Shay nearly hugged her.

“You can wear pants,” Shay promised. “Jeans, even, if you want.”

Max pressed her cheek into the top of her knees and looked at Shay through one squinted eye. “You know that serial-killer box you found?”

The change of topic surprised her, but Shay cautiously went with it.

“Uh, yeah.” As if she would ever forget about it.

“Do you think I’m capable of hurting someone?” Max asked. “Is that why you were so worried? Because you love me. You trust me to be your maid of honor, but you don’t trust me not to kill someone.”

“I didn’t think you were going to kill someone,” Shay protested.

Max made some disbelieving sound. “You think I’m capable of violence, at least.”

Shay stared out into the ocean. Max’s bullshit meter was off-the-charts good. If she lied, she’d ruin whatever this fragile thing was that had been repaired between them today.

She inhaled and told the truth. “I think you’re a survivor.”

Max nodded and looked toward the water as well.

Long after Shay had given up on a response, Max whispered, “I learned it from you.”