I get it. And I hate it for her.
“If she wants to talk to us about it, she will.” Kingston rubs his hand over his jaw. “All of it, I guess. I really hate being in the dark. Anyway. Continue.”
Archer sits forward on the couch, steepling his fingers together. “Right. So, this is where I may have overstepped. I went through her room—bedroom, closet, bathroom, all of it—while she was asleep. I had to. I was worried. That she’d—” His head drops, and he covers his face with his hands. “Tell me I didn’t fuck up,” he mumbles from behind them.
My brows shoot up. Ah. He got rid of the sharps. Smart. But we all know Archer isn’t stupid. I pull in a deep breath and hold it, considering all angles. I do see why he’s nervous. I don’t know if she’ll like the insinuation that she can’t handle herself around everyday objects. It’s not her fault that Nick did this to her, not any of it.
Archer scrubs his hands over his face before looking up, regretfully. “I found a few things that I removed from her room for now—a razor, a pair of scissors. Fuck, I even took the little tweezers.” He sucks in air through his teeth. “Tell me I’m being a paranoid fuck, and I’ll put it all back.”
I shake my head slowly, then pick up my phone again.
I think you’re scared for her.
And you don’t want her to harm herself.
Just like we don’t.
After a few measured breaths, I type out the rest of my thoughts.
I would’ve done the same.
You’re the most aware of her
mental state.
Do you think you were wrong?
Archer looks through my messages, biting down on his lip. “No. I don’t think so. And I know she’s strong. But shit, when she said that, it scared me.”
Beside Archer, Kingston looks about as pale as I’ve ever seen him, and considering the tan he has, that’s saying a lot. Archer sees it at the same time and reaches out, putting a hand on his leg and squeezing. “I’m fuckin’ sorry, K.”
He shakes his head, his stare focused on the floor. “It’s fine. These things should be talked about, not shoved under the rug like my parents did with Juliette.” He pauses to draw in a troubled breath. “I don’t think she’d do it. I believe one hundred percent, though, when you tell us the thought was in her head—it’s a testament to how much she trusts you that she said a word to you about it at all.”
“I know, that’s why I feel like a shit for snooping through her things. I don’t want to lose her trust, or crush the foundation of everything we’ve been building.” Archer’s head drops back on his shoulders as he looks skyward. “This isn’t even what I had to tell you, Cannon. It’s what lead up to it.”
I shovel the remainder of the eggs into my mouth while motioning for him to continue talking.
“I got to thinking—if I were going to hurt myself, I’d make damn sure I wasn’t on camera. You know, because some asshole like me is probably watching, and I wouldn’t want him to stop me.” He heaves out a breath. “Anyway, I went over and was checking out her toilet, and I got the idea that maybe she’d hide something in her box of tampons, so I stuck my hand in there.”
I cringe, gritting my teeth. Please tell me he’s not going to tell us he found a razor blade in there.
“I felt something down at the bottom that didn’t seem like it belonged there, so I dug it out.” Archer holds up his hands. “It’s not what you think.” He glances over his shoulder toward the house, then quietly says, “Do you know what a Faraday bag is?”
I arch my brow at him and give him an eye roll before shaking my head.
Archer gets an excited gleam in his eye and pulls a black pouch sealed with a Velcro flap out of the pocket of his pants. “This is what I’m talking about. Neither of you has ever seen one?”
I shrug my shoulders and shake my head quickly, but keep my eyes trained on it, completely clueless as to what the hell he’s talking about.
Kingston frowns. “Nah. It just looks like a bag for a charger or a portable battery or something. You’re saying it’s more than that.”
Archer nods, even more animated now. “Yeah. Essentially, you can put a device inside it and it virtually disappears—like it can be turned on and it won’t ping the cell towers around it. So, even if it’s fully charged and switched on, there’s no finding it. From the feel of it, I think there’s a phone inside.”
I take a moment to digest what he’s just said, then shoot him my question.
Did you open it and look at the phone?
“No. Because I don’t know why the hell it’s in there. Or who it belongs to.”
