“I’d love to say yes, but you know they’d come looking for us immediately. Let’s find Gelman.”
“To kill him?”
“Tempting. We need him, though. Yet not enough to not make his life uncomfortable.”
Andi sighed. “Too much hassle. I’m tired.”
“We just do a quick check-in before we drive home. What do you think, vegetable lasagna and a round of meditation?”
“I’m in.”
After a short chat with Geena and Luke, who promised to look at other possible triggers for the killer aside from the mental illnesses, and a check-in with Sandra and Tobias, who were waist-deep in in all the calls that had come in after Izzy Whitewall’s disappearance and had nothing new to report, they headed home.
Even though he had been very adamant about not moving in with Andi, George spent a lot of time at his house. Enough to make the rent he paid for his apartment seem like a waste. Not a topic for the moment, though. Once they were done with this case and had their holiday, they could talk about it. George already knew Andi wouldn’t be opposed to the idea; he just wasn’t sure if he was ready to make this step. To him it meant embracing the responsibility he had taken on with Andi on an entirely new level. It meant he would have to look deeper into his feelings for his partner, unsure if he’d like the outcome. So far, Andi hadn’t given any indication he was romantically interested in George, even though one could argue the fact that he had no problem having physical contact with him could be interpreted that way. The problem was the usual rules didn’t apply to Andi. George knew he would have to outright ask him at one point, to cut through the tangle of everything that was between them, open and hidden, spoken and unspoken. It was so easy to just fall into this thing they had, let it grow around them and see where it led. Only George couldn’t do that. He was too much of a control freak, and not ashamed to admit it. So there would be a talk with Andi, as soon as George had gathered enough courage.
After he had weighed the pros and cons to death.
For the moment it meant he dialed his brother Daniel’s number when Andi went upstairs for a shower after their meal and the following meditation, which had calmed Andi down, but not done the same for George. Just thinking this state of agitation was what Andi considered low-grade made George even antsier. How could he take care of Andi if he was so easily distracted? And why was he thinking about this while they were neck-deep in a serial killer case? And—It was time to call his brother.
“Best older brother speaking.” Daniel picked up after the third ring.
“Why are you so happy?”
“Just closed a case. An ugly one. Beer might be involved in the celebration of catching a true asshole.” In the background, George heard somebody whistling. “Yeah, we got that fucker!” A cheer sounded through the speaker before Daniel was back. “What can I do for you, beloved little brother?”
“Uh, forget it. I’ll call some other time.” George didn’t want to put a damper on Daniel’s surely well-deserved party, and he also didn’t want drunk advice from his brother. It tended to be even worse than his sober advice.
“Nooo, you can’t call, say forget it, and be done! That’s not fair.”
“How many beers did you have already?”
“I’m on my first. The party just started. We’re still at the office, doing the final reports.”
Okay, first beer wasn’t that bad. Perhaps he could give this a try.
“I need advice, Daniel. Serious advice,” George warned his brother, giving him a chance to back out. He knew he would if he were celebrating the successful closure of a case.
“Now I’m curious. I have all night to party. I can spare a few minutes for my favorite brother.”
“You’re only saying this because Griffin ate the last piece of chocolate cake on Dad’s birthday.”
“Something you, my beloved younger brother, wouldn’t have done!”
George decided not to argue that point. He would have totally done it given the chance. Which Daniel knew. Griff had simply beat him to it.
“Anyway, how can I help you on this very fine evening?”
“I really don’t want to bring down your mood,” George tried one last time.
“Honestly, George, nothing you could throw at me could bring my mood farther down than it had been during this wretched case.”
“Fine. It’s about Andi.”
“Figured.”
“Figured?” George couldn’t believe his brother’s nonchalance.
“Figured. These days, it’s always about Andi if it’s serious. I wonder why I didn’t guess it from your tone. Must be the high from solving the case. Or the beer.” George heard shuffling, a closing door, his brother no doubt going someplace where he could talk in private. “Why are you freaked out this time?”
