“Just, uh…picking something up from Cane.” He tucked the folder into the back of his jeans, pocketing the glass container before Hart could see either.
Hart narrowed his eyes on the actions and then lifted a brow. “Is this about Liam?”
Fix had to laugh. He supposed he was pretty obvious. “Yeah. I needed some info.”
“Did Cane play nicely?”
“The only one he plays nicely with is you,” Fix said. “Which is what I care about. But he was fine…by Cane standards.”
Hart pursed his lips, looking both pleased and like he was considering playing meditation seminars in Cane’s sleep to try and brainwash him into serenity. Fix knew it all too well—he’d heard it being played from multiple rooms in the house.
“I’ll talk to him,” Hart said.
Fix chuckled. “He helped me out, really. He does make an effort because of you.”
Hart gave a small smile, and that spark of joy made every decision Fix had made about Cane worth it. Everything he knew about the man’s history and his fears for his brother melted away in the face of how clearlyhappyHart was.
“I gotta go,” Fix said. “I might not see you at home tonight…if you’re even going to be home.”
Hart raised a brow, not commenting on his obvious absences in the house and instead going for Fix’s jugular instead. “Are you staying with Liam?”
“For the case,” Fix said, because it wasn’t time yet to tell everyone there might be a chance for him and Liam. He didn’t want to jinx it. The thing between them was so fragile still, and Fix would hate himself if he did anything to destroy it before it even took shape.
“I put in a good word for you,” Hart said eagerly. “I talked about all your positive attributes and offered a list.”
Fix cringed.
“It’s very comprehensive!” Hart said.
“It always is. But thank you. For the effort.”
“Always remember someone’s effort is a reflection of their interest in you,” Hart said sagely.
Fix smiled. “See you later.”
He was a few steps away when Hart called after him. “Oh, Fix!”
He turned to find Hart staring at him with a worried crease between his brows.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Hart said, then pulled a face. “Or maybe something.”
“It’s not like you to mince words.”
“I promised Liam I wouldn’t get involved and I’m keeping that promise,” Hart said. “I just thought I should tell you that there may be more than meets the eye to Liam’s past. He may need someone he trusts that he can open up to.”
Fix thought back to their conversation and the almost aggressive refusal to talk. “I know. But I have to let him tell me in his own time. Unless it’s relevant to the case I don’t want to push him.”
Hart gave him an approving smile. “That’s wise.”
“First time for everything,” Fix said.
Hart waved and Fix made his exit. He walked back to his truck, laying the folder on the seat and tucking the jar of fucking teeth in his glove compartment under a roll of paper towels hoping nobody would be snooping there. And by nobody he meant Black. Seeing the thing would make him excited and he’d pester Fix until he gave him the jar. Then nobody would ever hear the end of it.
Teeth and folder taken care of, he decided to take a walk in the direction of the train station, trying to retrace Liam’s steps and see if he could find anything.
He knew it was probably fruitless, but he kept his eyes peeled for any cameras. If he could catch this asshole on CCTV, even just a glimpse of height or build, it might help them identify who it was.
