I feel his trepidation. It was self-defense, yes. And he has me as a witness. But when it comes to a tenured professor in Viridian Falls, things could get messy.
Still…it’s the right thing to do.
I nod. “We can’t cover this up. We shouldn’t. I don’t know about you, but I’m not exactly a criminal mastermind.”
“He wasn’t either.” Jackson reaches into the pocket of the hoodie he wears beneath his coat and pulls something out. “He didn’t know I had this.”
He holds the device up between us, and I see the dim light of the small display of the voice recorder, the recording symbol flashing. I release a puff of air and meet his gaze, both in awe and disbelief.
“One of my dad’s Dictaphones,” he says with a small grin. “I’m gonna need a new phone, by the way.”
I laugh. I actually fucking laugh.
After everything that’s happened tonight, Jackson still manages to surprise me.
I place my hand on the side of his neck, keeping my touches slow and careful in case there’s a part of him that needs space, needs me tonottouch him right now. But I do because maybe that’s exactly what hedoesneed.
“You are brilliant, sweetheart.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, then swallows hard again as he stares down at the voice recorder. “You should know…” His voice gets smaller again, but it’s surprisingly steady now. His gaze returns to mine, a frown line cutting deep between his brows. “I was hoping to catch him saying something about Dylan, but…there was more. He talked about Elijah.”
The dread comes back like another punch.
It’s different but no less heavy and suffocating.
My face falls. “What?”
“I think he hurt him. Dylan too. And who knows how many others.”
Elijah. Dylan. Jackson.
All people I’ve cared about.
I’m fucking glad he’s dead.
And I don’t even care what that makes me.
Because I’m still not half the monster he was.
I nod. “Okay. Alright.”
It’s definitelynotalright, but I have more important things to worry about.
“What matters right now is thatyou’reokay.” I hold his face between my hands again, trying like hell to keep them steady, wanting more than anything to be the secure anchor that Jackson needs me to be. “Are you okay?”
He manages a tiny nod. “I will be.”
“Okay,” I say again, breath fogging the air between us. “Let’s go sit in the car with the heat while we call the police.”
We’re both still a little shaky on our feet as we head to my car, which I thankfully parked closer this time. The ice crunches beneath our shoes, and my fingers feel numb by the time I open the passenger door for him, then get into the driver’s seat and crank the heater up as high as it’ll go. Jackson peers at me with a question in his eyes, and I let him crawl over into my lap, holding him against my chest like I did the last time we were here.
I take out my phone and dial 911, letting the call connect to my car. I tell the dispatcher as much as I can about what happened, and when they ask if we need an ambulance, Jackson is quick to say yes before I can.
I look at him, my gaze roaming over him with my heart in my throat, suddenly terrified I may have missed an injury of his.
“You hit your head pretty hard on the ground,” he explains. “I just want them to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”
Relief mixed with warmth from his concern moves through me. I agree easily because I already wanted to have someone check him over too.
