I'd worried all day about Nick and whether or not they'd find some kind of evidence against him, but when I talked to him at lunch, he seemed okay, assuring me it'd be alright. Whether he really thought that or not, he sounded confident, calming my worry just a bit. Not a whole lot, but enough.
Mom was glad that Nick's leg was okay and that he was going to be coming over for dinner. I was, too, hoping life could finally get back to normal. It was hard to even remember what normal was like, at least for any extended period of time. This evening would prove to be no exception.
Once I made it to Nick's house, he was waiting for me on his patio. Usually, he'd be sitting there smoking a cigarette, but after everything that had happened, he had no desire to smoke. He'd said that thing had made him kill someone, yet wouldn't let him smoke a cigarette.
"It's a bit ironic that smoking is frowned upon in the world of evil, but killing's okay," he'd said when I asked why he'd stopped. "I guess it's the one good thing that's come out of all this."
"And me," I reminded him. "It's brought us closer together."
He smiled. "No, I'd have snagged you anyway, it just might've taken a little longer." I knew he was probably right.
He stared as I walked up his driveway, grinning at me, making me self-conscious of every step I took. "What are you doing out here?" I asked.
"Watching you... and that dress. I don't think I've ever loved summer so much."
"Shut up." The sun was warm, but not in comparison to the heat coming off my face.
"What? I can't help it if summer looks good on you." He grabbed his crutches and stood up, meeting me at the top of his driveway. "Are you sure you don't want me to drive? I can, so you don't have to get back out."
"No, I don't mind. It'll give you a break and we can talk on the way."
A smirk appeared on his face and he started to add something to that, but didn't, simply saying, "Okay, let's go," instead.
I took his crutches from him and forced them into my tiny back seat as he got in, telling me everything the detective had said.
"So, when he asked about Andrew, I acted clueless, like I had no idea he'd been... he'd died." I could tell he didn't want to talk about it, but kept talking, anyway. "He asked when the last time I'd talked to him was, and I told him I wasn't really sure, which was the truth, since time seems blurred then. I told him it had been a few weeks or a month or so ago, that I was going to set up another investigation with him. He then asked if I met with him, and I told him I went down there when he'd told me to, but the doors were locked and I couldn't get in. I told him when I called to see where he was that he didn't answer. That much I do remember. It made me call him to meet us and then called to let him know we were there, but he didn't answer, opening the door when he saw me." He stopped talking and looked out his window for a minute before continuing. "So, technically, any phone records or me being there, if they could somehow check tire tracks or anything, should match what I told him today. I know it made sure not to leave any evidence behind, not wanting me to be arrested, since it planned on using me for a while."
"I'm glad it didn't," I admitted.
"Yeah, but I hate it for Erik, if it has, in fact, got him now." He looked back out his window. "I hate it."
"Yeah, I do, too."
Usually, at this point, he'd make some snide remark about Erik and how I was so infatuated with him, teasing me until I smacked him, but he didn't. "Anyway, he asked when the last time I'd seen Andrew was, and I told him the truth, or at least the truth that applies to me. I tried to answer as honestly as I could in regard to myself, hoping everything checks out. I guess we'll see... if they happen to come knocking on my door and throw me in prison for murder."
I wanted to tell him to get a lawyer and go ahead and talk to them, so he'd be prepared if that did happen, which it could, but didn't. He was smart and would get one if he thought he needed one. Besides, getting a lawyer, at this point, might only make him look that much guiltier in the eyes of an outsider, such as a snooping detective.
I was glad when we made it to my house and Mom started throwing herself all over Nick, taking the focus off of what had happened today. Well, she didn't really throw herself at him; not physically, anyway, just mentally.
"Nick, we're so glad your leg is okay," she said, causing him to give her a funny look, reminding me I'd forgotten to tell him the story I gave her.
"Oh, yeah," I agreed, patting his arm, "no blood clots. The swelling has already come down quite a bit, too, hasn't it?"
"Uh... yeah?" he replied, just going with it.
"Yeah, it looks a lot better. What do you want to drink and I'll get it?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Oh, I'll take a beer, if you've got it. If not, Coke or water is fine."
Dad, who'd been fairly quiet up to this point, gave him a look. "Are you old enough to drink?"
Nick laughed. "Yeah." Then added a quick, "Yes, sir." Thankfully, that's all he said.
"Oh," Dad replied. "I keep forgetting that my girl's getting older. Both of them, actually," he added, nodding at Kylie, who hadn't said a word since Nick got here. She was still a bit freaked out by the sight of him, even though she knew it wasn't really him who'd kidnapped her. I guess I couldn't really blame her, but I hoped she got over it.
"Yeah, I'll be legal in a couple years, too," I reminded him as I got up and walked into the kitchen, hoping to make it sound like no big deal that my boyfriend already was... by seven years.
"So, Nick, how long have you been legal to drink?" my dad asked, obviously curious as to how old he really was.
"A few years," he replied, politely being vague.
"So, you're twenty-four?"
"Here you go," I interrupted, handing Nick a glass of Coke, even though we did have beer, hoping it wouldn't be brought up again. "So, Dad, Mom told me Steve might need some help at his restaurant. Do you think you could talk to him about me possibly working there part-time?"
"I'm sure he'd love for you to work for him," Dad replied. "He asked me after graduation if I thought you'd like to, but I knew you'd be starting college and didn't think you needed the added pressure."
Mom brought the food in and sat it down on the table, telling everyone to dig in, making me think the topic of Nick's age had been forgotten, but apparently not. "So, how old are you, Nick? Do you work or go to school with Amber? She's never really said much about you."
Nick looked at me and made a face like he was offended. "Thanks." I shrugged and remained silent, afraid of what they'd say when they found out how old he was. "Well, I draw up blueprints and plans at an electrical company. Sometimes I have to go out on calls, but not lately. It's worked really great, actually, having the broken ankle." He took a sip of his Coke, apparently as afraid of what they'd say to his next answer as I was. "And I'm twenty-eight."
Dang it! I was hoping he'd just lie, knocking off a few or five years.
Dad almost got choked on his bread. "I thought you said you were twenty-four!"
"No, sir. You asked if I was twenty-four, but Amber conveniently interrupted you before I could answer." Was he actually smiling at the fact my dad was freaking out?
"Yes, she did," he agreed, turning his attention to me. "Amber Renee, do you realize he's ten years older than you?"
Great, he used my middle name. "No, actually, he's only nine years older than me now."
"Nine, ten, it doesn't matter." He turned his attention back to Nick. "Why would you want to date my daughter when you're almost thirty?"
"He's not almost thirty," I corrected. "He's twenty-eight. AND, if he hadn't just told you, neither one of you would have known, so what does it matter?"
"Michael, I think you need to calm down," Mom said.
"I agree," I interjected.
"So you see nothing wrong with our daughter dating someone so much older than her? What if she was sixteen and he was twenty-five? Would you still think it's okay, then?" Dad asked, making it sound terrible, like Nick was some kind of perv.
"But she's not sixteen, Michael, and technically, she's old enough to date who she wants—" she looked at me and raised an eyebrow "—within reason. And Nick's seems like a great guy. He was here when... when Amber was having problems." Of course she would be on Nick's side.
"Well, as long as she's under my roof—"
"And that's exactly why I don't want to be," I said angrily. "Don't talk about me like I'm not even here. I will go work at Steve's restaurant until I get out of school and will get my own place. That way, you won't have a say over what I do or who I date."
"Maybe I should go," Nick said softly.
"No," I told him. "You are sitting right here and we're going to enjoy dinner."
I crammed half a bread stick in my mouth and washed it down with milk, knowing there was no way we'd enjoy dinner, at this point. Dad looked like he was internally fuming, no longer interested in who Nick was, only that he didn't wanting him dating me. Mom, on the other hand, acted like nothing had happened, only making the conversations, which were few and far in between, forced and awkward. Then we had Kylie, who acted like we weren't even in the same room, sitting at the same table.
Without a doubt, my favorite part of dinner was when it was over.
***
Surprisingly, several weeks went by with no drama. Dad had accepted the fact that I was with Nick, no matter how old he was—I'm sure I owed Mom for that. Detective A-hole never called back, but since the case was still open, it didn't mean he wouldn't. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, either, aside from the fact that Erik was still missing... and that several prominent psychiatric doctors had died suspiciously, some violently. One of them included Dr. Wellington, who was my doctor while I was in the hospital.
I'd been shocked when Mom told me, especially when she went on to tell me about the other doctors who'd been killed. "And they have no idea who's doing it or why," she'd said.
Well, Nick and I had an idea.
For the past couple of weeks, we didn't talk about any of it; not my parents, not the detective, and not Erik or the doctors. We were doing our best to let go of it all, hoping if we let ourselves move past it that we actually might. I should've known better, since it's never that easy.
My phone buzzed in the middle of class, and when I looked down to see who it was, reading the message Nick had sent, I almost jumped up out of my chair and ran out, but didn't. I'd gotten better at thinking things through rationally over the past little bit and remained calm, texting him back from under my desk.
What do you mean they found Erik?
His mom just called and told me the police found him. She said he's okay, but won't talk to anybody. She wants me to go see him & see if I can get him to talk & tell me what happened.
Go see him where?
I'll give you one guess.
He didn't even have to tell me—I knew. Lakeway Mental Health
I immediately sent him a message telling him not to go there and to wait on me, thinking this had to be some kind of trick. He assured me he wouldn't, and when I met up with him after my last class, he let me know he was a bit suspicious, too.
"I talked to his mom, who'd seemed ecstatic at first, but now she's scared to death that he's gonna stay the way he is," Nick started to explain as he picked me up to go eat.
"How is he?"
"Well, when they found him, he was curled up in a ball in the parking lot of the hospital where he's at now. He was crying and they couldn't even get him to tell them who he was, so they took him inside and admitted him. Convenient, don't you think?"
"Yeah, convenient." My mind raced through all the possible scenarios, but I tried not to focus on any of them. "When are you going to see him?"
"At seven. I'll take you home first, though."
"No, I want to go. You can't go by yourself."
He laughed. "I don't think you'll have to worry about me. Since they're not sure how he got like this, he only has supervised visitation, so I won't be left alone with him."
"So he's not said anything to them?" I asked.
"Nope."
"What if he talks to you? What if he says something... well, you know?"
"They think he's lost it, so anything he says, especially if it sounds crazy, probably won't phase them, at this point. It'll probably only solidify his insanity."
"Do you think he's really... lost it? Or that it's just a trick?"
"I don't know. As soon as we eat, though, I guess we'll find out."
"Yeah, I guess we will... and hopefully not the hard way."