Page 141 of The Last Close Call

“You didn’t do anything.”

She sat up, pulling the blanket over her. He sat up, too.

She blew out a breath. “I saw the crime scene photos on the dresser. And the Polaroid of Olivia.”

His eyebrows tipped up with surprise.

“We’re friends.”

He frowned. “You and Olivia Salter?”

She nodded.

Jack tipped his head back. “Fuck.” He raked his hand through his hair and looked at her. “Why didn’t you tell me, Rowan?”

She could see he wasn’t happy about this.

“At first, I didn’t know.”

He scooted back, pulling the blanket over his lap as he leveled a look at her. “You didn’t know what, exactly?”

“What your case was about. All you told me was it was a serial sex offender. It wasn’t until later that I figured out it was WCR.”

“You should have told me then that you personally knew one of the victims.”

“Why? That was the whole reason I took the job. I wanted to help you find him.”

The furrow in his brow deepened as he watched her.

Rowan looked at the fire. “But... you’re right. I know I should have said something. It’s one of the reasons this whole thing has been difficult. Back when Olivia was attacked, it turned her entire life upside down. She became depressed and withdrawn from everyone. And it affected her friends, too. All of us were shaken by it.”

Jack just looked at her, and she could tell he didn’t approve of her keeping this information from him.

“I’m sorry.” He took her hand and squeezed it.

“Why are you sorry?”

He shook his head. “I feel like shit that we didn’t find him sooner. This investigation dragged on for years, and we couldn’t catch a break.”

She watched his expression, and she knew he felt guilty, as though he were personally responsible for the actions of some sadistic psychopath.

Do you believe evil is inherited?

Rowan thought of Joy and the guilt she’d been dealing with, too, knowing she’d given birth to someone like that.

Jack grabbed his boxer briefs off the floor and pulled them on. He walked into the kitchen. Was he angry with her? It was difficult to tell.

She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and went into the kitchen. He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and set it on the counter.

“Are you upset?” she asked.

“I wish you hadn’t seen those pictures.”

“Me too.”

She hadn’t meant to stumble onto them—they were just there in his room. And that was part of the issue. Jack was immersed in his work, always, and if she spent time with him, then she was exposed to it, too. This was why she’d told herself she would never again date a cop.

Although “dating” didn’t even begin to describe this. They had yet to have a normal evening that wasn’t interrupted by work. And Rowan knew that wasn’t likely to change. Jack’s job was part of who he was.

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