Griffin cleared his throat. “I don’t know your work really, but I’d guess so. The body had snakes drawn all over it. A few real ones, too.”
I instantly knew the piece he was referring to. It had been of a politician I’d met at an art show. Everything about the man had reminded me of a snake, even the way he moved. When I unveiled the painting, I’d gotten a lot of flak from his office, but it hadn’t stopped me from putting it in a gallery show. Now, I wished I hadn’t. If this piece weren’t out there, maybe the murdered man would still be alive.
I gripped the edge of my desk chair so tightly, the plastic creaked and groaned. “I’m so sorry. Hell, I don’t know what I could even say to Caelyn to make this right—”
“Brody,” Griffin cut me off. “This isn’t your fault. Whoever did this is fucking with you, too. I’m calling to give you a heads-up, not because I blame you.”
The tension that had been thrumming through my body eased a fraction at his words. The community I was building here wasn’t one I wanted to lose. My friends in New York were great, and Carson would always be a brother, but everyone was so intricately woven into the art world. It was nice to have people in my life who were separate from that. It was more real somehow.
I cleared my throat. “Appreciate it, man. How’s Caelyn?”
He paused for a moment. “Freaked. Bell and Kenna are here calming her down before Parker talks to her. You might want to head over, get an update from him.”
I swallowed the bile that was crawling up my throat at the thought of being faced with yet another dead body. But I couldn’t ignore it or pretend it didn’t exist. This was happening no matter how much I wanted to will it away. “I’ll head over now.”
“Drive safe.”
“Will do.” I hit end on the screen and tossed my phone on the desk. Both hands went to the chair then. As if gripping it tightly enough would keep me from detonating. Memories flashed through my brain. The photos the NYPD detectives had shown me of the bodies they discovered. The twisted, gruesome scenes that had me losing my lunch in a garbage can in the interrogation room.
The detectives had been trying to get a read on me. Attempting to see if I could’ve been involved in the murders before my alibis had cleared me. They’d gotten their read, but the photos would live in my head forever. Taunting me. Turning to voices that asked if a dozen people would still be alive if I hadn’t started down this path to begin with.
It was a stupid question to let live in my brain, but I couldn’t seem to stop it. Josiah Mosely would’ve found something to model his murders after. He didn’t need my art. But the truth of that didn’t seem to combat the lie that had made itself at home in my mind.
And now, it was all happening again. Whether it was Sam or someone else entirely, it didn’t matter until they caught the bastard. Parker would save lives when he brought the bastard in, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover.
The can of paint resting on my desk taunted me. The perfect shade of silver that I’d been using for the finishing touches on the painting of Shay moving through an arcing kick. I snatched it off the desk and threw it. It exploded in a cascade of shimmering color against the pale wall.
“Hey! What the hell is going on?” Shay asked, striding into the room, her face a mixture of disbelief and concern.
I couldn’t find the words I needed, I simply pulled her into my arms with a rough tug and buried my face in her hair. The familiar scent of lavender and something uniquely Shay calmed my most feral edges. But it wasn’t enough to numb the anger and pain.
She didn’t pull away, just drew me closer, rubbing her hands up and down my back. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
“Caelyn found a body at the store. It’s not over.”
Shay’s body stiffened in my arms, but she didn’t stop trailing her hands over my back. “Who?”
“I don’t know.” I hadn’t even thought to ask. And what kind of bastard did that make me? I’d been so focused on how this affected me, but some family out there had lost someone.
I released Shay and stepped back, running a hand through my hair as I paced. “I don’t know what to do. I’m not putting out any more art. I can’t pull down every image from the internet, it would be impossible. I thought I’d moved to the edge of the world, but clearly it wasn’t enough. Do I have to move to fucking Antarctica?” I gave the box I’d just put together a swift kick, sending it into the wall.
Shay caught my arm and halted my frenetic pacing. “Stop it.” There was a bite to her words I’d never heard before. “Don’t you dare let this bastard into your head. None of this is your fault. I refuse to let you spiral down a road that isn’t yours to walk. The only person who should be drowning right now is the person who killed those people. You’re a scapegoat, and you’re just letting him herd you into the role. Fight back, damn it.”
I watched in awed fascination as fury lit Shay’s face. The way it moved through her features and seemed to light up the golden flecks in those hazel eyes. I love you. The words almost tumbled out of my mouth before I pulled them back. Too soon. Too many other things going on. A million and one reasons kept me from giving those three little words the voice they deserved.
Instead, I pulled Shay into my arms and held her as tightly as I could against me. The feel of her breaths against my torso was soothing and calmed the things raging inside. “I’ll fight back.”
30
Shay
I watched as Brody guided the boat towards Anchor Island’s dock. I could already see the assorted emergency vehicles and the crowd gathered near The General Store. But my gaze kept drifting back to Brody. As if I might be able to catch him before he spiraled into another cycle of self-loathing and blame.
I wanted to throttle whoever was doing this. For the loss of life, yes. But also because of what they were putting Brody through. They were eating away at the thing he loved most in this world. And I wasn’t sure how long he could hold on.
We tied off the boat, neither of us saying anything, just moving in that quiet, tandem rhythm we’d developed over the past few months. We could predict each other’s moves and speeds and knew just how to fill in where the other left an empty space.
Brody offered me a hand as I climbed over the side of the boat. As soon as our fingers linked, I didn’t let go. I willed all the strength and reassurance I could muster through that single point of contact, pushing myself as close to his side as I could. We made our way towards the growing crowd. With each step that brought us closer, I felt more tension radiate from Brody’s body.
Bell caught sight of us approaching and waved us over to where she, Griffin, and Caelyn were gathered, just outside what appeared to be a makeshift command station. Brody and I ducked under the crime scene tape and headed towards the group.
“I really thought this was over,” she muttered as we approached.
I took in Caelyn, who was wrapped protectively in Griffin’s hold, her face pale and eyes rimmed in red. “I’m so sorry, Caelyn.” The sentiment was completely lacking, but it was all I could think to say.