Page 51 of Follows with Intent

Nico disconnected the call.

The door opened, and Jadon stuck his head into the room. His body was stiff, and his mouth was a hard slash. He jerked his head, and Nico followed him.

Outside Waverley, the day’s chill had hardened into cold. A steady breeze swept clouds across the sky, and a sudden shower of rain fell and then was gone—and then another came in its wake, and that one was gone too. The air smelled like damp soil and wet wood, and even though it was only late afternoon, the day was gloomy, almost dark.

“I’m sorry about that,” Jadon said as they started across campus.

“You don’t have to be sorry. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have freaked out.”

Jaw clenched, Jadon didn’t answer.

They walked in silence. A troupe of college-aged boys, ones who had stayed during fall break for some reason, emerged from one of the buildings ahead. They were already dressed for Halloween: slutty cowboy, slutty firefighter, slutty football player, slutty Where’s Waldo guy. Waldo, presumably. They were talking excitedly over each other, the words drunk-loud, which meant they’d been pregaming. As Nico watched, the slutty football player pointed toward the quad and shouted, “Bruh, I could totally beat that squirrel in a race.” And then he took off at a surprisingly good clip until he tried to hurdle one of the low brick walls, flipped, and landed hard on his back. His bruhs laughed uncontrollably as they made their way to where he lay.

“Do you think we should check on him?” Nico asked.

Jadon shot a flat look over at the guys. Then a tiny smile softened his mouth. “It looks like he’s going to survive.”

Already, the football player was back on his feet. Honestly, Nico thought the fresh mud on the jersey—and the bare skin and muscle underneath—was going to work wonders for him in the Halloween hookup division.

“I’m sorry they’re being such assholes,” Jadon said, and as he spoke, heat smoldered in his voice again. “I’m sorry they can’t see there’s a serious problem happening on campus. I mean, for fuck’s sake, they might as well be helping this guy. It’s like they don’t want him to get caught. And the department—yeah, I know it’s a fucking break-in. I know there’s always a string of those on campus during the scheduled breaks. I know. I fucking know. And I’m telling you, that’s not what this is. It’s like they think I’ve got no fucking idea what I’m talking about.”

The bros were moving again, their conversations splintering now that the squirrel race was over. One of them, earnestness carrying even through his slurred speech, said consolingly to another, “I mean, your intentions were good. You were just trying to nut.”

Nico worked hard to keep his face straight.

In an underbreath, Jadon said, “You have got to be kidding.”

“He makes a good point,” Nico said. “The best of intentions.”

“Sometimes I think between eighteen and twenty-two, they aren’t even real people.”

“Try fourteen and twenty-two,” Nico said. “Let me introduce you to Colt. I swear to Christ, I’ve never bought so many bulky, baggy sweaters since he started living with Emery and John-Henry. I practically have to wear a potato sack every time I go over there.”

A laugh burst out of Jadon, erasing some of the lines in his face. He took Nico’s hand without any apparent hesitation—just reached out and slid their fingers together. His hand was warm and large, fitting nicely around Nico’s.

“I’m sorry. Again. I shouldn’t lose my temper.”

“I’ll admit I’ve never heard you say so many fucks. It’s kind of reassuring, actually. I feel like I get a daily ration from Emery, and I’ve been running short the last few days.”

Jadon’s mouth quirked, but he didn’t answer.

“You can be upset.” Nico tugged on his hand until he got another smile. “You can swear as much as you want. It won’t faze me.”

For a heartbeat, it seemed like Jadon wouldn’t speak, but then the words poured out of him. “It’s—I mean, yes, I’m angry that they’re not taking this seriously. I’m not joking when I tell you that I think the university is being criminally negligent, and ultimately, they’re going to be found liable for it. And my department is being just as bad—willfully blind because it’s easier for them, in the short run, to believe all these incidents are isolated and unimportant. But what gets me is that—is that it’s all about fucking Barr.”

He was silent for a long time. They’d lost the drunken college boys, and in the campus’s quiet, the only sounds were branches creaking in the wind, and the occasional wet leaf smacking the pavement, and the distant hum of traffic.

Nico didn’t need him to explain about Barr—not the basics, anyway. Some of it, in bits and pieces, Jadon had told him in the midnight hours. And some of it Nico had learned through google-fu. Barr had been Jadon’s partner, a detective with the Metropolitan police. He’d also been a serial killer, and he’d operated for years without being caught.

“They think I’m an embarrassment to the department, and they’re not wrong.”

“Jay—”

“But what’s worse is they don’t take me seriously. I mean, I didn’t know my own partner was out there butchering people. What kind of a detective does that make me?” He breathed out slowly, the wind ripping the white vapor to shreds. “Maybe they’re not wrong. Maybe I should leave.”

“Jadon—” Nico had to stop.

“Peregrin,” he said helpfully, because he was Jadon.

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