The Devil Inside

21: A Measure of Progress

Vincent didn't answer right away. He kept his eyes on the far wall, wrestling with some emotion Cooper couldn't place. "She's going to be there. Isn't she?"

Cooper didn't have to ask who she was. "Yes. I was planning on dropping by her place before, actually." He took a deep breath. "We're following a few leads."

Tom thinks I'm a killer. Calla is indulging him. Oh, and Blake might have set me up, he didn't say. And if we don't find Steph's stash of evidence, we are so totally fucked. But otherwise, just another day in the life.

"Following a few leads," Vincent repeated wearily. He ran a hand down his face. "Right."

Cooper really didn't want to get into the specifics. "Can we talk about this later?"

"Why not right now?" The words came out hard and bitter. Vincent grimaced. "Sorry. I'm still trying to...process." He spread his hands. "Look, I shouldn't have walked away that night. I know that now. It's...it's been a lot to swallow. But maybe you can help me out."

Cooper didn't see how he could help. If anything, he only ever seemed to make things worse.

Vincent leaned forward, bracing his elbows against his knees. "Just..." He folded his hands together, beseeching. "Make it make sense. Please."

Cooper opened his mouth, but what was there to say? I made a bad deal didn't seem to encompass all that had transpired over the last two years.

Make it make sense.

"I used to hate her," Cooper said at last, the words tumbling out of his mouth of their own accord. "You remember that."

"Yeah," Vincent muttered. "I remember that. You were scared of her."

Cooper sat back with a heavy sigh, examining the pale scar on the back of his hand. He traced it with the tip of his finger. "She...well, it's a long story. She always gave me this bad feeling. Like something was wrong with her."

He wasn't sure what kept him from sharing the story about the cat. Something about it felt too personal. If he spoke it, somehow it wouldn't be his anymore.

"Something is wrong with her," Vincent said, glaring at the carpet between his feet. And then he sighed, hanging his head. "Sorry. Go on."

"When Tracy..." Cooper trailed off, clenching and unclenching his scarred hand. "I just knew. I can't explain it beyond that. Somehow, I knew it had something to do with her. But no one else saw it. They thought it was me." He laughed without humor. "I mean, I was the guy who found the body. It didn't look great, did it?"

Vincent said nothing.

"And then another body turned up," Cooper said. "I almost went to the police right then and there."

"Why didn't you?" Vincent demanded, pushing suddenly to his feet. His face had gone red with frustration or anger, or maybe a bit of both. "Why didn't you go to the police at the very start, you jackass?"

Cooper gave him a sour look. "Because of you, you jackass."

That took the wind out of his sails. Vincent fell back on the couch, stunned. "Me?"

"Partly," Cooper amended. "When I found out about Jacob, I sort of...lost it. I went to confront her." Her. Neither one of them could say her name. "But here's the thing, dude. She had a rock solid alibi. Like, rock fucking solid. She was stuck with her mom at home all day, and then she went to the post-game that night. She was literally never alone."