Oakley doesn’t need to be more interesting to me, but this situation is holding my interest enough to want to dig a little further. Maybe there is something I can use in my book, but I’ll never know if I don’t dig.
Chapter 2
Oakley
Well, today has gone to shit faster than an avocado.
It started off well enough. The morning rush was easy, and then Willow came into the shop and made everything a little brighter, as she always does when she comes in.
Until Kellen Woodcroft walked through my front door.
It’s not like he couldn’t find me easily enough, but when I left my job as a U.S. Marshal on the Fugitive Task Force, it was with the understanding that I would be left alone.
Part of being left alone was completely disconnecting from the pain and trauma that comes from a failed case. And the case we fucked up on was more than that. It was, and still is, every nightmare come to life.
It’s why I settled in Bluebell Falls, where no one knew me or my past and I could just be Oakley, Grind Time owner and not-so-pretty latte maker. Not James Oakley, Fugitive Task Force Commander, catching one terrible human at a time yet unable to catch the one man that haunts every happy moment of my life.
I’m currently walking Woodcroft back to my office, with a million things running through my mind.Why is he here? Is there a development in the case? I thought I finally had some peace.
He quietly shuts the door as I lean against my desk and cross my arms.
“We had a deal,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I know, and you know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t something big.”
“I don’t care how big it is. I got out. We are no longer partners. I no longer have clearance to hear any of this, nor do I care.” My anger is betraying my anxiety. My entire body feels like it’s vibrating, and my fingers are digging into my biceps so hard I know there’ll be bruises tomorrow.
Woodcroft stares at me for an extended second, seeing a little too much. He sighs in exasperation, before walking up to me and clapping my back in as much of a hug as he can with my fuck-off stance.
“It’s good to see you, Oak, really good. You look better, healthier.”
“Well, I was until you walked through the damn door,” I grumble before running my hand through my shaggy hair.I need a fucking haircut.
Walking around my desk and plopping down into my chair, I motion for Woodcroft to take a seat.
“We have a lead.” He says it so simply, like it doesn’t send me into a cold sweat and has my heart rate doubling.
“I’m out, man. There’s nothing I can or want to do. Does boss-man know you’re talking to me?” I didn’t leave on the best terms. Having a full mental breakdown and screaming at your boss will do that. They treated me better than I deserved when I left, but that chapter of my life is over.
“Whose idea do you think this was? I told him you wouldn’t be interested.” He shrugs.
I hate everything about this, but potential answers are right in front of me, too tempting to ignore.
“What’s the lead?” A statement, not a question or a commitment.
“Word is the Tennison Strangler is traveling west. Someone spotted him on Interstate 40 in Tennessee, and we just received a call from authorities that a victim came into a hospital in Knoxville.”
Bone-chilling. When people use the phrase to describe movies, it’s child’s play to this. Alfred Tennison eats horror movies for breakfast and giggles about them.
He was my breaking point and someone I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from.
And now, Woodcroft comes to tell me he’s attacked again. Left another victim with lifelong damage and an existence that will probably never be happy again. This is worse than dangling the forbidden fruit.
“Kellen, I can’t.” My voice breaks as I clench my eyes closed.
“I know, but I was given an order to come talk to you, so I have. I’m not here to convince you to come back. I was there last year. I never want to see a friend, a brother, go through that again.”
“Shit, you could have just lied, man. I don’t want anything remotely to do with that case touching my life here. No one knows that part of my life, and I want to keep it that way.” Scrubbing my hand down my face, I’m exhausted. Just the thought of the Tennison Strangler gets my adrenaline pumping, and now I’m crashing.
