Susan made a small sound and nodded her head thoughtfully. “I can’t say that I’m surprised.”
“You can’t? I sure was.”
“You know,” she said slowly, “when Easton was a little boy, he had this friend named Michael. Mike came from a bad home—parents were drunks, he moved around a lot. For whatever reason, Easton figured all this out.”
“How old was he?”
“Nine or ten.”
“That’s really young to see something like that.”
“I know. He’s always had an incredible read on people, even well beyond his years when he was young.”
“So what did he do?”
“Well,” she said, continuing, “one day he came home and begged me to let Michael sleep over. I said okay, sure. The next night Easton came to me and begged me to let Michael stay over again. I said okay one more time since it wasn’t unusual for kids to stay over twice in a row.”
“I can see where this is going,” I said softly.
Susan smiled. “I knew something was up when he asked the third time. I sat him down and said, ‘Easton, why are you trying to get Michael to stay over so much?’ I’ll never forget what he said.”
I sipped my coffee. “What?”
“He said, ‘Because, Mom, Mike’s house is awful and he doesn’t want to live there anymore. Maybe he won’t say so, but he’s happier here. I thought maybe he could live with us.’”
“Wow.” I was genuinely surprised.
She nodded, smiling fondly at the memory. “I asked him, ‘Where is Mike going to stay?’ He said, ‘My room.’ I asked, ‘What will he eat?’ He said, ‘My food.’ I was completely astounded.”
“So what happened?”
“Mike went home that night, and his mom ended up beating him severely for not telling her where he was. After that, his mom got arrested and his dad got sober.”
I let that story sink in for a second. It did seem like Easton, to some degree. He had been very willing to help Mrs. Suarez, and although he put on a show of being a jaded private eye most of the time, I did get glimpses of someone more generous underneath that exterior.
“Wow,” I said softly. “That must have been hard for a kid to take.”
“It really was. I remember him finally understanding what had happened to Mike, and although he never said it out loud, I could tell that he blamed himself.”
“That wasn’t his fault. He even tried, as best a little kid could at least.”
She smiled sadly. “I know. But you have to understand something about Easton.” She sipped her coffee and looked out across the kitchen. “He wants to help save everyone, and every failure is personal. At a certain point, he learned that it was easier to make very few connections than it was to constantly fail to fix absolutely everything.”
“But how could he make everyone perfect?”
She looked back at me, smiling. “He can’t. He’s stubborn as hell, though. That all has a lot to do with why he and I don’t get along.”
“Why is that?”
She shook her head. “A long, stupid story. We’re both as stubborn as the other one in the end.”
“I understand,” I said, although I wished she would go on.
“Anyway,” she said, sipping her coffee again and stretching, “I think that’s enough about him.”
I wanted to press her. What did that whole story have to do with me and him? Did she think that he was trying to protect me by not letting me get involved with his investigation? I wanted to know so much more, to get her perspective on him when he was a little kid, but I knew more questions would seem suspicious.
After all, he and I were just stepsiblings.
“Thanks for telling me that,” I said. “Makes me feel a little better, I think.”
“Don’t worry, hun. He’ll come around eventually.” She paused and laughed softly. “Or he won’t. You never know.”
I sipped my coffee. “I think I’m going to head upstairs and get myself together.”
“Sounds good.”
I smiled and left the kitchen. I needed to get out of there before my curiosity got the best of me.
Maybe her story had raised more questions than answers, but I was totally sure about one thing: Easton was trying to push me away because he thought it was best for me. But he wasn’t allowed to choose what was best for me.
I stopped outside his door. It was open a bit, so I softly nudged it open.
The room was empty.
I walked inside quickly, not overthinking it. I did a quick scan of the room and spotted what I was looking for: the case file. I grabbed it from the side table and quickly brought it into my room.
Once inside, I sat down on my floor and spread the file out in front of me.
There was so much stuff. Police reports, crime scene photos, handwritten notes, and more. It all stretched far back in time, back to the original murder that had opened the file. Easton’s contributions were significant, but they were only a small part of what was in there.
I didn’t know what Easton was thinking or what he wanted. Part of me didn’t care. If he wanted to be stubborn, then fine. But he couldn’t control my actions, and I was going to help him catch this murderer.
He wasn’t the only person that had met Mrs. Suarez. I had been inside her house; I knew her. I felt as responsible for Luisa as he did.
I took another big sip of coffee and dove in head first, starting from the beginning. I had a long morning ahead of me.
18
Easton
I was covered in sweat as I started the second set. I stripped off my sopping shirt and tossed it aside, dropping down to my knees to start. I pushed, my arms bulging, working my body hard, past the point of exhaustion.
I’d been neglecting my workouts. Fortunately, Susan’s basement was finished and quiet, and so I was able to escape down there early to get my workout in. There was only a treadmill and some simple weights, but that was fine.
I put the television on the local news and pushed myself. It honed my mind, made me concentrate better. I’d been too busy medicating myself with alcohol to really push it, but it felt good to finally get off my ass.
Plus, working out helped me think.
There were so many possibilities in the case. They all swirled around my mind constantly, flitting this way and that. I wanted to be clear, totally clear, and I needed to be if I was going to figure anything out.
Unfortunately, Laney kept jutting into my mind.
The way she had looked when I’d told her that we weren’t working together anymore kept jabbing me in the chest. I hated that I hurt her, that I had to push her away, but I hoped she’d understand it one day. I hoped she’d understand that at the moment, I was the most dangerous person in all of Mishawaka. Just being around me could mean death.
Maybe I should have run away, moved to a different state, but that wouldn’t have stopped the killings. Frankly, I figured Susan and Alan were both in danger, and Laney would be too. The best thing I could do for them was to solve the case, and solve it fast.
But fucking Laney. Remembering the way she moaned as she slid down my cock just made me rock hard. I finished my set and sat back against the couch, breathing deeply. I could feel my cock begin to stir as everything about that afternoon in the car came back to me.