We are silent on the way to Daniel's place.
He wanted to take me home, but I reminded him that it's a crime scene, and even if it wasn't, I wouldn't be caught dead returning there. I'm not sure I could ever walk through my living room again without seeing Steve on the floor, his eyes bulging, his face purple, mouth opened in a silent scream. The image haunts me. As does the kiss Daniel and I shared in the interrogation room.
It's wrong. It's definitely not appropriate. And yet, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Because while I was kissing him, for the briefest moment, I felt alive again. Like a normal person.
I'm in shock. I'm vulnerable and grieving so of course I want warmth and attention.
It makes sense for me, even if I hate it, even if I'm aware I should have more self control. But it gets me wondering why he did it. I throw him a sideway glance, but his face tells me nothing.
He's attention is on the road, as it should be, and his frame is neither tense nor relaxed. How did I end up here, in a car with a man I barely know and yet, who I would give anything to kiss again?
"Are you sure you don't want me to take you home?" he says into the silence.
"Yes. For the reasons I already mentioned." He could take me to a hotel. That's what he should do. Leave me there and return to his investigation, find out who killed my husband and my boss.
But for some reason, the moment Steve died, every bit of professional ethic seems to have left him, shed together with his suit. He's not the man I first met, the one who saw through my vague affirmations and turned the facts into valid police theories. The one who could see details everyone else missed.
"What happened?" I find myself asking.
"What do you mean?"
I see no point beating around the bush. "You've changed."
His grip on the wheel tightens, and with it, the muscles in his forearms. My stomach clenches as I imagine how those strong arms would feel around me.
"I've been in this line of work for ten years now. Do you know how many times I've seen so much death in merely two days?"
My skin crawls at his words and my infatuation ebbs away. I didn't see it like that. I was so focused on how everything affects me that I didn't spare anyone's feelings a second thought. But I'm the victim. I'm the one all of this is happening to, and I want to allow myself to be the center of things for once.
All my life, my mother's words followed me. It's not about you. You are defined by your place in the world and how people see you.
Don't be selfish, don't be unkind, don't be open. Just smile and wave as your life passes and you leave behind the impression of the perfect woman. The perfect wife, the perfect professional, and if I'd listened to my mother, the perfect mother.
I am a failure for not having children, and it renders all my other achievements null. It doesn't matter that I have a flourishing career and am respected in my field (even if not by Anika). It doesn't matter that I had a peaceful marriage to a kind man.
It was always all or nothing with her. And now, I really do have nothing. No career, no husband... Just murder and fear. The mere thought of telling her everything that happens fills me with dread. So I'm less tempted to feel for Daniel.
He's a homicide detective. This is what he does for a living.
"I'm sorry," I still say.
"You don't have to be sorry, Eva," he says. "And it's not even the blood. I've seen many bodies, some in much worse state than Anika or Steve. It's how it's happening that weighs on me."
I don't like where this is going. "You mean... the shadows?" I whisper the last part.
He nods. "People are killed all the time. But it's by other people. It's a pattern that is usually easy to understand, even in the most unhinged of cases. This, however..." His voice fades and I can tell there's more behind it than my situation.
"It has to do with your other case as well, doesn't it?"
He nods. "It's been months and there are absolutely no clues. It's ar risk of turning into a cold case and I just can't leave it at that."
"What about that poor man? How is he handling it?" I can't even begin to imagine what it would feel like losing children. If it's anything like my case, he's probably going crazy over whether he killed them or not.
"He hasn't been arrested," Daniel says, his voice hollow. "There's no conclusive proof against him. And he's definitely not handling well. It's so frustrating."
It obviously frustrated Daniel as well. I shift in my seat. "Do you think he did it?"
"I hope not." He glances at me for a moment, and his eyes are filled with pain. "Just like I hope you didn't do anything either. All of this... It's just too fucked up."
His words shut me up and I hug my knees to my chest. Is this why he's giving me a free pass? Because if I didn't do anything wrong, it means the other man didn't kill his children and his wife either? The thought saddens me so much, even more than Steve's death. I'm sure I'm still processing it, that it will hit me at some point that my husband was killed and my life will never be the same. But for now, I'd much rather stay in my safety bubble in which everything is just weird.
We reach a house in the suburbs, and Daniel kills the engine in front of it. Silence stretches between us as I don't want to get down. The car feels like a purgatory I am hesitant to leave because I don't know if I'll end up in heaven or hell.
"What happened back there," he finally says, his voice low.
My stomach flutters and I tighten the hold around myself. I know he's talking about the kiss.
"It was highly unethical."
I agree. I definitely agree with his assessment and he should not have kissed me on the very day my husband died. But at the same time, I shouldn't have kissed him back. I shouldn't be yearning for him to do it again and for a lot more to happen between us. Everything about him screams that he's a passionate man and I need that in my life. I need it to drive away the emptiness inside me.
But I know I can't.
"It was," I say because the words are right, not because I necessarily feel them. "But it made sense somehow."
He hums at this. "I think I should take you to a hotel."
There it is, his mind finally catching up with him. I glance out the window at the house. It's fairly large and looks like a regular, comfortable family home. To be fair, I expected him to have an apartment downtown, not a house in the suburbs.
"Yes, I believe that would be the right thing to do."
And yet, he doesn't start the car. "The ethical thing to do," he underlines.
I hug myself tighter. Yes. Ethical. Ethically, I should be preparing for Steve's funeral, though I'm aware it will take a while until his body is released. I should drape myself in black and cry my eyes out, obsess over whether I killed him or not. It would be ethical for me to go to my own house and clean up.
It would be ethical for me to go insane.
"How?" I whisper to myself. "How did this all happen?"
My life was normal, even if unhappy, just three days ago. I had a husband who spent too much time playing videogames, a toxic boss who I could tune out and do my job as needed, and a car that was not covered in human blood.
I didn't appreciate all of that. I whined and I cursed and maybe that's why it was all taken away from me. My soul feels as if it's made out of stone. The worst part of it is that I don't understand. All the evidence points to me and yet I know I didn't do it.
The storm, the lightning, the shadows... The mirror in my hallway. I shudder.
"I can't go home."
"I'm not taking you home."
"What if...?" I raise my eyes to him, desperate for someone to understand what's going on inside me. "What if the shadows get me? What if they're forcing me to do all these horrible things and I just can't remember?"
Daniel twists in his seat and grasps my shoulders. "You remember what you did on your run."
It's an affirmation, not a question. I shake my head, tears streaming down my cheeks.
"I think I remember. But what if I don't? How can I be sure it's not me if I'm alone so much?"
Because that's the issue. Even with Steve in the house, whenever something strange happened, I was alone. Alone in the bedroom, alone in the forest.
The detective's grip tightens. "You're not alone. I..." He bites his lower lip.
My eyes follow his movement, and the fluttering in my stomach intensifies. He's so attractive. So put together, not crumbling under the heaviness of what he's facing. Of what I'm facing. He can make me forget. He did, if only for a few moments in the police station. He can do so again.
"Eva..." There's a warning in his voice.
"Daniel..." There's an invitation in mine.
He hesitates for a few moments, then takes it. His mouth is over mine again. I untangle myself and wrap my arms around his neck kissing him back. The warmth returns to my body and I feel so alive. His hands stray from my shoulders to my waist, then my hips. I run my fingers through his hair. It's so soft and pleasant.
He pulls back first, panting, his eyes unfocused. "No, we can't."
I'm out of breath, too, but I'm more concerned about the cold returning to my bones. About the loneliness and the fear smothering me.
"Because I'm a suspect?"
"Yes, that too."
"Because it's unethical?"
"I'm supposed to have a clear view of this case." He runs his hand through his hair. "I need to solve it because..."
"Because then you can solve your other case?"
"Exactly! Because..." His words trail away as he takes me in. "Oh, God."
"You will solve my case. And the other one." I hesitate as the fear returns to my core. "Unless this was all just a warning and I'm next."
He shakes his head, but I can see the despair in that simple motion. "No, that can't happen."
I wish it won't, but I'm suddenly not so sure, because what's the point of all this? If someone wanted to scare me, they did the job with the bloody windshield. They didn't need to start killing the people around me. A sudden thought has my breath hitching.
"What if they come after you next?"
He frowns. "Why would they come after me?"
"Well, because..." I point my finger from myself to him repeatedly. "I care about you," I whisper.
He lets out a laugh, but it's harsh. "Oh, no. They won't come for me. You're in more danger than I am."
I want to ask why he's so sure, but I don't have the energy for it anymore. I just want someone to hold me and make all of this go away. As if sensing this, Daniel leans over again and catches me in a hug. I hug him back, sobbing on his shoulder.
"Don't leave me alone."
"I won't."
After another few minutes, we finally get out of the car and he leads me inside. The house is slightly messy, but looks like any normal home. It even resembles mine a little. I don't care enough to look around for the specifics, I'm just glad his arm is around my shoulder and the warmth of his body seeps into me. With him there, I can fight the impulse to check every dark corner for shadows and strain my hearing for ragged breaths.
I'm happy he stops in the middle of the living room to glance down at me. Happy when he leans down and kisses me again, more than happy when his hands run down my back. Passion floods me, and all I want is to forget why I'm there, get lost in him. I can't even remember the last time a man held me like this, kissed me with so much abandonment. I can't remember the last time Steve and I actually had sex or even made out.
This works for me. This is fire and intimacy and I need it more than air. For whatever reason, Daniel seems to need it as well. The moment I sink my hands under his t-shirt to feel his skin, he does the same.
I'm not sure how and when it happens, but we plummet on the couch. I want to feel more of him and the weight of his body over mine makes me feel safer than I've felt in months, maybe even years.
I don't care if it's unethical. I don't care that he's the detective handling my case. All I know is that I need this man. All of him. Even at the price of giving myself in return.
I do. And there's nothing unethical about it.
👥
Chapter WC: 2,234
Total WC: 21,436
And we broke the 20k mark. Now all I have to do is actually end this novella. It still needs a conclusion, doesn't it? Let's hope the conclusion makes it stay under 40k 😅
Things escalated quickly. And I'm sure it's very acceptable for Eva to sleep with the detective handling her case. At least she noticed that he changed. But why could that be? Is it because he always had a crush on her and now that the husband's out of the picture he can finally pursue her? Did he actually kill Steve? 😱
And whose blood was on that car??
Stick around to find out! I hope you're enjoying the story and thank you for all your suport.