“It seems counterproductive. The last thing I want to do is piss off anyone who is connected to Hayzel’s case.”
“It could have gotten you more attention and a closer look into everything.”
“Idon’t want more attention. I just want her case solved.”
“I understand, but it’s been over a year, and as far as I can tell, they haven’t produced a single suspect—hell, even a lead. It might be time to shake things up.”
“That’s exactly why I agreed to do the podcast. If that doesn’t work…” I shrug, because I haven’t allowed myself to think about what comes next, but there will be a next. I won’t stop until this is over.
Boone’s eyes narrow a little as he stares at me. I almost fidget, but the question on the tip of my tongue has my muscles locked down tightly. “What about the report from the medical examiner? Did they find anything? DNA? Fingerprints?”
His brows lift just enough to let me know my question caught him off guard. “I don’t know the results, other than her death was ruled a homicide. They didn’t even note the cause of death.”
“She was stabbed,” I supply immediately.
“I’ll see if I can get my hands on the official report,” he tells me, but the way he says it makes it seem as if I’m missing something.
“What aren’t you saying?”
Boone’s lips flatten before he inhales slowly. “I’d just like to see the report.” I hold his gaze, letting him know I’m not buying it. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, more consoling. “Just because she was stabbed doesn’t mean that is what killed her.”
I inhale sharply. All this time, I thought I knew what killed her, but he’s right. She could have been shot, strangled, or even beaten to death. The ugly feeling of disappointment settles over me. When will I finally know the truth, and will it ever be enough to not feel guilty about everything I didn’t know?
Boone pushes the papers back into a pile, then he slides them into the folder—a cue that I’m not going to learn anything else from the details inside tonight. I almost ask him to let me look at the papers, but the knot in my throat stops me. I don’t think I’m ready for that right now.
When he places the folder on the empty stool next to him, out of my sight, and begins to rise, my suspicions are confirmed.There won’t be any more talk of what is in there tonight. Following suit, I slide my foot off the lower bar and stand at the counter. “Thank you for doing this. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
“Please save your thanks for when I actually do something. Mind if I use your bathroom?”
“Oh, sure. Down the hall on the right.” I point toward the powder room. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t taken aback by his sudden shift. After he disappears behind the door, I move away from the island and the temptation of the folder. I’m not excited about him leaving. It’s been nice not being alone for a little while, but I will admit I likedhiscompany more than I liked not being alone. It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed the companionship of a man without wondering about their motives for being with me.
I turn on the TV just in time for Boone to exit the bathroom. The home screen displays all my recently watched selections, outing me and my obsession with true crime. There’s a part of me that wants to flip the television off because it’s kind of embarrassing, like I’m glorifying murder the way some crazy fans of serial killers do, but that’s not the case. I would much rather have never heard of Ed Kemper and Dennis Rader.
“What are you watching?” Boone saunters over as if he may join me on the couch. I adjust in my seat, giving him a little more room in case he does.
“Nothing yet,” I reply, ignoring the screen and all the squares showing crimes series. He lowers himself to sit, and my heart rate picks up. I thought he was preparing to leave.
He lets out a long sigh once he relaxes back into the cushions. “It’s been ages since I’ve watched anything. Mind if I join you?”
“No, I mean, sure,” I answer a little too quickly while snagging the remote to select the Netflix app. Again, a bunchof crime shows pop up, but I scroll down to the new releases. “What’s your pleasure?”
Boone clears his throat before answering, “I’m not picky.”
I scan the options, quickly dismissing romance and horror immediately. “Comedy or action?”
“Dealer’s choice.” He rocks his head back, getting more comfortable. Clearly, he isn’t going to let me off the hook and pick, so I click on the next comedy that pops up, something I hadn’t heard of with Jason Bateman. It isn’t a movie I would choose on my own, but I do like most of the films I’ve seen with him in them.
After putting the remote back on the table, I tuck my feet up next to me, careful that my toes aren’t getting too close to his legs. As the intro scene begins to play, a new tension fills the space between us. We aren’t really friends, but he knows more about me and what I’ve been going through than anyone, so there’s a perceived closeness, which is strange, since I know so little about him. There are a million questions I want to ask, ones that have nothing to do with his work, yet would still involve it, like why he wanted to become a profiler, does he like it, and how long has he been with the FBI, but I keep my questions to myself. I don’t want him to feel like I’m giving him the fifth degree.
When he chuckles softly within the first five minutes, I know I made the right choice in movies. I find myself watching him much more than the TV, even if it’s only from the corner of my eye. I still see every movement, every twist of his lips in humor. Unfortunately, it means I have no idea what is going on in the film, so when he asks, “Think he’ll do it?” I don’t have an answer.
“You’re the expert on behavior,” I hedge.
“That doesn’t always translate to TV.” He turns his head in my direction, and my stomach does a little flip when I see his crooked grin pointed at me. “If that were the case, ninety percent of movies would be people ignoring the obvious.”
“Is that what people do, ignore the obvious?”
“Pretty often. I mean, you aren’t going to find many people who lose a spelling bee and become hell-bent on revenge and create this kind of havoc.” He motions toward the TV while still looking at me. I didn’t even realize that’s what was happening.
