Chapter Twenty-Nine: Breakeven
"Absolutely not! It's too dangerous," Damien shouted as he reached over and grabbed Bailey's arm.
"Let me go. We have to look," she said, trying to grab at the door handle.
The lock sounded and Damien chucked his seatbelt off to better reach for her. He clutched her shoulders tightly and jerked her around, forcing Bailey to look at him. "What are you going to do against two grown men, Bailey? Huh?"
"Mattie's been teaching me..."
"Not enough. You can't do this half-cocked. Stop and think! Because if it is Sheriff Lambert then we're gonna need a lot more help!"
"I don't care!" Bailey cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks as she tried to break free. "She's all alone now!"
The rough feel of Damien's calloused hands cupping her face silenced Bailey's sobs. He touched her forehead with his and she focused her blue eyes on his watering green ones. "I know but we need to get help."
"We don't have time. He'll panic and he'll kill her! He'll kill her!"
"He won't! He won't panic. He's a psychopath. He's meticulous. He won't," Damien whispered, brushing at her tears with his thumbs. "We need to go now, okay?"
Three minutes later, Bailey was eerily calm as Damien started speaking again. "We should wait until Sam wakes up."
"We don't know how long it could be..."
He held a hand up. "Here me out! Sam could give us information, Bailey. What if she meant something else when she said it was Lambert? It happened too fast and she was already almost out. What if we make a mistake? We can't accuse an innocent man of this."
Bailey shook her head. "He isn't innocent. I kept seeing mean, familiar, blue eyes, and I'd never seen his eyes emotionless like that so I didn't think it was him, you know. When she said his name it was like a key fitting into a lock. I've been having nightmares about this man for months! I know what he's been doing to them," Bailey paused and clutched the side of her head, "all those sick things. I-I thought there was something wrong with me! I mean, who dreams of stuff like that?"
Bailey turned to Damian and sniffled. "It was Sheriff Lambert all this time and I-I should've known because I--"
Bailey never finished because they pulled into the driveway, and Damien, after Bailey insisted on helping with Sam, made an inappropriate joke. Damien always made jokes at the wrong time but it had calmed Bailey down enough to think more clearly when she called Deputy Wilson.
--
Bailey wiped at the beads of sweat accumulating on her forehead. Her chest heaved, gasping for breath as clutched Sam's arm. Bailey was sweating so much her hands slipped down and her fingernails dug into Sam's skin.
"For someone so tiny you'd think this would be easier to do," Bailey said, her voice raspy as she struggled for air. "I'm glad we didn't take her to your place. Too many stairs."
Damien's green eyes lifted and his lips curved. "You know, Bailey, you don't have to help. I could just pick her up..."
Bailey inhaled and exhaled, taking a moment to lean against the wall of the stairwell up to her room. "That's right, brag about your manly muscles! Tsk."
"Manly, huh?"
Heat flooded her face and she jerked on Sam's arm, pulling her up the stairs. "Stop flirting with me. We need to get her upstairs."
Damien scoffed. " flirting? You're the one that said I had manly muscles."
Bailey refrained from biting her lip and stepped back from Sam, her heart thudding in her chest at his teasing smile. Damien's eyes widened at the sudden weight. He let out a muffled grunt as he bent down and swept her dragging feet.
"What if I dropped her?"
Bailey shrugged and reached over to pat his shoulder. "I have utter faith in your manly muscles, Damien," she said before climbing the stairs.
When she got to her room, she darted for the teal pair of underwear on the floor and kicked it under her bed. She closed her bathroom door – there was no hope in making everything look decent – and threw a clean shirt over her laundry hamper. Bailey glanced at her unmade bed and debated but Damien called out to her before she could decide.
"Bails? Where's your room?"
With a quick inhale exhale, she took a few steps towards the door and pushed it open, gesturing at him with her hand. He hauled Sam to the bed and put her underneath the covers, carefully setting her head on Bailey's pillow.
Damien straightened and turned towards Bailey, his nose wrinkling with distaste as he settled his gaze on her. "It smells like a gym locker in here. When's the last time you cleaned this place?"
Her jaw dropped and she scoffed. "I'm sorry this isn't The Ritz! And, you know, cleaning isn't the most important thing on my mind right now."
He held his hands up another smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Okay. You're right."
Bailey swallowed and bowed her head. "I'll be back," Bailey whispered, turning towards her bathroom.
She pushed the door open enough for her to get in but not enough for him to see the mess inside. Grabbing a clean washrag, she reached for the hot water handle on the faucet and held the rag under the warming stream. She twisted the rag until it stopped dripping and walked out as carefully as she'd gone in.
"What's that for?"
"To wash her face," Bailey said as she sat on the edge of the bed and leaned forward to run the wet cloth down the dark streaks of dirt on Sam's face.
The back of Bailey's neck prickled. She turned her head and peeked from underneath her eyelashes to see Damien frowning deeply as he watched.
"It's not much. I just don't think she'll want to look at a dirty face in the mirror," Bailey said, biting her lip at awkward tension in the room.
"No – I – that's fine. Sam will appreciate it."
When Bailey finished, she stood from the bed and threw the washrag in a corner. She heard Damien snort before she turned towards him. "What?"
"Nothing," he said. "So, are we gonna talk about the elephant in the room?"
Bailey blinked and glanced around. "What? There's no elephant."
Damien chuckled, bowing his head. The slope of his nose and the curve of his stubble covered jaw reflected in the vanity mirror.
"No. Stop. That was stupid," Bailey said stumbling over her words. She scrapped her bottom teeth over her upper lip and nodded. "So the elephant in the room?" Bailey gestured towards Sam but Damien shook his head.
"Not that one." Damien folded his arms over his chest and took a step towards Bailey. "Are you a precog?" He laughed and rolled his eyes. Staring up at the ceiling, he spoke again. "It sounds crazy but I know what I saw, and what you've been saying for months. I think you know too. You were gonna say it in the car. Everything is happening almost exactly as you've said. I mean, there's only two possible explanations and the other one is way more ludicrous."
Her stomach churned. This was a topic she avoided. She'd been successful so far, even with the new onslaught of images and nightmares, and that slip in the car. Bailey didn't want Damien to look at her like other people did. She didn't want him thinking of her as a freak. Until Gwen went missing Bailey had been able to ignore it herself... for the most part. Amanda was the only one that ever pushed, but she was gone most of the time.
"What's the other option?" she asked with a laugh, rubbing the back of her neck and gnawing on her bottom lip.
"That you're somehow involved with the killer? Like I said before that's ridiculous. I mean-" He paused and shrugged his shoulders as he kept eye contact with her. "There's not an evil bone in your body."
"And you know me so well?"
Bailey cringed inwardly at the snap in her question. She wasn't trying to be rude or difficult. Her defense mechanism had a mind of its own.
Damien's cheeks flushed and he bowed his head. "I may not know you like Gwen did – does- like Gwen but I've watched you."
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Her nervous laugh sounded loud, even to her ears.
"What are you, a stalker?"
He heard the teasing note and offered a slow-burning smile that made her knees weak. "You're not exactly hard to look at."
Bailey's lips parted. "I thought you weren't interested in me that way?"
"That doesn't mean I can't appreciate beauty when I see it."
. The conflicting emotions made her eyes burn. He'd called her beautiful but didn't deny what he'd said a few weeks ago... that he wasn't interested in her romantically.
"Right. So we should –" Bailey stopped and shrugged. "I don't know what we should do. I-I don't know anymore."
"Wilson is coming here, right?"
"Yes. He should be here in about ten minutes."
"So we wait."
Folding her arms across her stomach, feeling sick as she nodded.
Three minutes of quiet, staring at the wall, and avoiding eye contact was just as uncomfortable as Bailey anticipated. It was worse when she noticed a white bra with a pink bow dangling over her vanity mirror, right next to Damien's head. Her eyes widened when he started to turn – it was the first time he'd been in her room – to look around. Bailey jerked forward and grabbed his arm. "Damien, can you go see if Mattie's here?"
Damien's eyes were trained on Bailey's hand. "Why?"
"I just want to make sure he's here. He's been putting extra hours in at the dojo so he can help me and Mom more. You know how I've been lately." Bailey's jaw tightened as Damien's eyebrows rose before nodding his head. "I haven't been so bad, have I?"
Damien's shoulders hunched over and his hands slipped into his pockets as he nodded. "An absolute horror and don't live with you. Poor kid."
Bailey gasped. Her hands balled into a fist and she punched him in the arm.
He's hand clamped over his shoulder. Laughing, he leaned against the vanity desk, his hands splayed across the white surface. He lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head waiting for something. Bailey cleared her throat and scrubbed her sweating hands against her jeans, cringing as her cast caught on the bottom of her cable-knit sweater. She licked her bottom lip.
"Sorry, I-um... sorry," she said.
"It's cool. You punch like a girl."
She smiled at the mischievous glint in his eye as he took a step towards her. "I appreciate the compliment. I like a being a girl and doing things as a girl."
"I do to," he said.
Bailey couldn't stop the snort that escaped as she watched Damien's eyes widen. He cleared his throat and pulled away from the vanity table. His hands shoved back into his pockets as he took a step forward and shrugged.
"I meant that I like you being a girl and doing things as a girl does-um would. That is – you're a good... girl," he finished looking defeated.
"Thank goodness," Bailey said giving an over exaggerated look of relief. "I had my doubts."
He smirked at her and his mouth dropped as he was about to say something but the muffled boom of the door made him turn.
"Bails, we're home!" Bailey heard her father shout from downstairs.
She wanted to yell at him. Tell him it wasn't technically his home but she remembered what her mother had told her in the hospital just before she left with Damien.
"
The words Gale had spoken had hurt in more than one way. It was the hope that really stung though. Bailey didn't want to hope that things were going to be the same. She didn't want to forgive him but, as it turned out, Gale already had. Bailey didn't understand it. Gale said she didn't have to.
Damien gave Bailey a subtle nod. "I'll go tell them what's going on. Stay up here with Sam."
"Okay."
Damien left and Bailey went to go shut the door but heard Damien speaking.
"Hey Matt."
Matt nodded. "Damien."
Bailey watched the exchange from the crack in her door.
"You should go into Bailey's room. Some bad stuff is happening, and, well, you're a bad ass," Damien finished with a shrug.
Matt's chest lifted and he puffed it out more for effect. The pride in his eyes at the compliment from Damien was clear even from this far away. Bailey smiled and bit her lip, opening her door enough for Matt to see her and know that he was welcome to come in.
"It's her!" Matt pointed in disbelief at Sam in Bailey's bed.
Bailey was still watching Damien's backside as he galloped down the stairs.
"She's alive! Just like you said, Bails!"
Bailey didn't have time to respond. The loud echo of the gunshot downstairs and Gale screaming cut her off.