"I think desperate people do desperate things. And right now, Ryan Williams is very desperate." Marco moves closer. "Which is why you stay here. With us. Where we can keep you safe."
I nod, even though my hands are shaking.
"Rachel." His voice softens slightly. "We'll figure this out. We'll catch him. But I need you to trust me. Trust that I know what I'm doing."
"I do trust you."
"Good." He picks up his laptop. "I'm going to call Phoebe. We need to coordinate the next steps of the investigation. We're getting close to closing this."
He heads toward his office, leaving me alone with the laundry and my thoughts.
Chapter twenty-six
Chapter 26
Theo
It’s past midnight when I find Rachel hunched over her laptop at the kitchen table.
She’s been there for a few hours. I know because I heard her come downstairs around ten, heard the laptop open, heard the clicking of keys that hasn’t stopped since.
Cole is asleep. Marco’s on a late shift. Tommy’s been out cold since eight.
Which means it’s just me and Rachel and whatever she’s obsessing over on that screen.
I pad into the kitchen in my sweatpants and t-shirt. She doesn’t look up. Doesn’t even notice I’m there until I’m standing right beside her.
“Jesus!” She jumps, hand flying to her chest. “You scared me.”
“Sorry. Thought you heard me coming.” I glance at her screen. “Ryan Williams’ Facebook page. Stalking him on social media at midnight instead of sleeping?”
“It’s not stalking. It’s research.” But she closes the laptop halfway, like I caught her doing something she shouldn’t. “I can’t just sit around doing nothing while Marco does all the work.”
“You’re not doing nothing. You’re staying safe. That’s your job right now.” I pull out the chair beside her and sit. “How long have you been at this?”
“I don’t know. A few hours?”
“Rachel.”
“I can’t sleep, okay? Every time I close my eyes, I see fire. Or I think about Dorothy and how her own grandson is trying to kill her. Or I think about Tommy and how close we came to—” She stops, pressing her hands over her face. “I can’t just do nothing.”
“So you’re going to give yourself a migraine staring at a screen until three in the morning?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
I reach over and close the laptop completely. “What it takes is rest. You’re exhausted. You’ve been exhausted for weeks.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re the opposite of fine. You’re running on fumes and determination.” I stand up and move behind her chair. “When’s the last time you actually relaxed?”
“I don’t remember. Sometime before the first fire?”
“That’s what I thought.” I put my hands on her shoulders. She’s tense. Every muscle is tight and knotted like she’s been holding the weight of the world for too long.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Helping you relax. Since you clearly won’t do it yourself.” I start kneading the knots in her shoulders. She’s so tense it’s probably painful.
