Why he thinks he has any say over my actions is beyond me. I respect his opinion but fuck him. “Fine, then I’ll find him myself. Without you.” I enunciate those two words, purposely excluding him from my life with them. They are the ammo, and his ego is my target.
I never miss.
“Not at the precinct. You are not stepping foot in there and ruining everything the team has worked for.” He swipes is hand in the air before pointing at me. “Do not even think about calling Cap and weaseling your way in.”
“You can’t stop me from going inside.” He can’t stop me from doing anything, just like I can’t. Whatever the decision, the choice is mine alone. But it stings to know that despite knowing that we’re in a gray area with how far the law could help us, he doesn’t want to help me solve our case.
“After Cap finds about your plan, yes, I can.” He grabs his bag from the closet and hoists it over his shoulder—the same bag he made himself for when the baby was born and he had planned on staying with me at the hospital.
“Where are you going?” It hurts a lot more than I had expected. Before therapy with Nolan, I’d be dazed out—numb. It would hurt less.
“I think it’s time we took some space from each other.” His words land on my ears like stones, beating and bruising my skin.
“You’re leaving?” My hand flies to the dip of my neck, my finger hooking through the gold chain and curling around it.
He hangs his head low and massages the back of his neck, pacifying his discomfort. Either he’s not comfortable with the situation or the thoughts mulling around in his head stress him out. He nods his head, framing the answer before it comes out. “Maybe I should’ve left a long time ago. I don’t know what we’re doing anymore.”
I swallow and shield my eyes from him, because the more I try to read his expressions, the worse it feels. “Me neither.”
“Guess you were right…” I hear him open the bedroom door, but I don’t ask him about what.
A mistake was made.
And I made it. I crumble to the floor and rest my back against the wall, bowing my head to my knees. Then I listen for the sound of the door shutting, and I wait and wait and wait. And he doesn’t come back.
Maybe I should go after him.
10
On the Verge
Nolan Mills
“Morning, Doctor. You have four voicemails from Eleanor Devero, and two from her fiancé,” Cara informs me about three minutes after I come inside.
“Thank you,” I say after she spits off the rest of my messages. “Can you transfer me to Detective Dalton, please?” Women tend to be more long-winded and emotional than men, but men offer a better view of the timeline.
On the second ring, Kace picks up.
“Hello?” he answers with a strained voice.
Purposely, I wait a few seconds to test his patience threshold.
“Hello!” he clips, this time at a louder pitch, solidifying my ‘trouble-in-paradise’ theory.
“Hello, this is Dr. Nolan Mills. I’m returning your calls.”
“Oh…” He pauses, and due to the decrease in background noise, I assume, heads to a quieter place. “Sorry about that, Dr. Mills.”
“It’s all right. What can I help you with?”
“I need to schedule a session with you. Or maybe couple’s therapy … I don’t know. Your homework isn’t working.”
“Something happened,” I affirm and take a seat at my desk, extending my second drawer and removing one of the neatly stacked note cards.
“Yes, something fucking happened. Elle’s not getting better, or she was and she … she’s not ready to come back to work,” he says with finality.
“Detective Dalton, I’ve already sent in my recommendation to your captain.” I balance the receiver between my chin and shoulder and reach for one of the many identical, black ballpoint pens in the holder.
“I know, but I talked to her this morning, and she’s not ready.”
Twice. At the right-hand side of the page, I add a date and then a quick session summary while I listen to Kace’s labored breaths. “Can you explain to me why you believe your fiancée isn’t ready to return to work with you?”
“It’s not with me,” he clarifies. “It’s in general. She’s not ready to be here, at least not until things settle down on our end.”
I presume he’s speaking of my case. “Your captain tells me you need extra help with the investigation you’ve been working on, and her particular skill set can be useful. He said you had some suspects.”
“We can do it without her.” He grunts and slams something. “I don’t want her here interrogating anyone.”
“Perhaps we share the same concern.”
“What do you mean?”
“I did communicate my concerns with your captain. I’m not sure she’s fully capable of using her behavior interpretation abilities.”
“Why do you say that?” His tone adjusts, and his voice returns to the standard decibel, infused with concern.
“She exhibits a slower reaction time, and from my limited knowledge on the subject, micro-expressions last about half a second. This doesn’t mean she isn’t perceptive to other forms of body language, however. Thus, why I recommended reinstating her.” I pause to let that all sink in. “Perhaps, I was wrong. Can you give me a specific reason why you believe she isn’t ready? What happened?”
“We were getting ready this morning…”
As in something they did together. His pause suggests more to the story, so I guide the answer in the right direction. “For work, I presume?”
“Yes, and she told me she wanted to help me find the murderer.”
“Detective, I work with the police force often. This is the reason why the captain recommended my particular services. You don’t have to give me specifics of the case, but I’m aware you are working together to find the Bullet Man.”
“She told you?”
“And your captain,” I confirm, as I shift through a stack of papers on my desk. “He conveyed that finding the identity of your killer is of the utmost importance. So, I don’t understand why Eleanor’s willingness to help upsets you.”
“It doesn’t upset me!” he whisper-shouts. “What upsets me is the reason why she wants to help.”
“What reason is that?”
“She wants to ask the Bullet Man to solve her case. I don’t think she will guide the interrogation in the right direction because she wants something out of it.”
“You’re concerned she will let him walk?” Thoroughly intrigued by this twist of events, I align my pen with the ledger and abandon taking notes for the moment.
“Yes,” he growls. “I thought therapy would help her move on, and she has in some ways, but she’s determined to consort with him.”
Interesting. I lean back on my chair and curl my finger around the armrest. “Perhaps she’s looking for closure.”
A toilet flushing sound fills the silence, and he tries to cover it with an elevated voice. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in the men’s room.” He mumbles something to someone, which sounds like a string of curses before a more coherent, “Shit! Sorry, Frank. She’s not coming into work today. We had a fight, and I grabbed my shit and left.” A pause, followed by utter silence, comes before Kace addresses me again, “Sorry, Dr. Mills. My partner says the captain is looking for me. I have to go in there and tell him what happened.”