Page 47 of Knot Innocent

My code unlocks the front door, and I walk inside, torn about the situation. On the one hand, I want to collapse in complete peace, with no one having anything to report come morning. Conversely, it wouldn’t bother me to get woken up in the middle of the night because my attacker tried to break in and got tackled by Chelsea—tough choice.

After peering through the blinds in my office, I take a moment to spritz my orchid before I crash. Knot was right about me being exhausted. I’ll be lucky if I even make it to my bed.

After passing out fully dressed, I wake up around eleven, courtesy of my demons and growling stomach. I appease my stomach with a can of soup and attempt to ignore the call to hunt.

Keeping out of my office would probably be easier if I didn’t already have Mercan on the hook. Well, had. I don’t know for sure one way or another. The disaster in the dog park might have killed my opportunity. I haven’t been in contact with him since Sunday and fear he’s moved on to a real fifteen-year-old. And there went any chance you had of going back to sleep. My computer blinks on with the push of a button, and I get right to work.

As luck would have it, Mercan is logged in, and I find him quickly. Or, more accurately, he finds me.

Mercan: Where have you been, Sweetness?

Me: Ugh. Grounded. So lame.

Mercan: What did you do?

Me: Got caught sampling my dad’s scotch. He’s probably more pissed off that it was his favorite than about me drinking.

With his curiosity satisfied, Mercan begins the slow dance of trying to talk me into meeting in person. Like last time, he doesn’t acknowledge my projected age, meaning this won’t be just a simple info dump to the police tip line. Mercan will have to be caught in person.

I play shy and hard to get for a little longer before appearing to cave. That’s when I feed him some shit about my restrictions being lifted on Monday. Mercan makes one last attempt to convince me to meet, and I finally agree.

I choose the same area as last time to be in Cooper’s jurisdiction. He wants to be the one to collar the guy and ask about the dog park incident. My cover story for Mercan is that I’ll skip my theatre group meeting after school and walk to the local ice cream shop instead.

Mercan agrees without questioning my possible high school age. Dammit. Making one last attempt, I send, I know it’s lame to meet there, but I can’t drive. I only have my permit.

I wait with bated breath to know if I’ve got him or if I’ve just blown the whole damned thing. Mercan takes the bait and gives me the best possible reply. No problem, baby girl. I love all kinds of cream.

Leaning back in my chair, I close my eyes in relief. Got you, you bastard.

I no longer have a reason to keep the conversation going, so with a rushed, Gotta go. My mom’s coming, I sign off. Then, because I’m pumped to have gotten what I need, I go ahead and send all my files and info to Detective Cooper. Hopefully, four days is enough time for him to set things up. I’m just glad he won’t need me to be there for the arrest. I don’t think my nerves could take any more just yet.

With nothing left to do, I shut down my system and return to bed, wondering who’s in the SUV parked a few yards from my window.

Bastien

The Tahoe comes to a stop right behind its twin. At ten till midnight, I’m a few minutes early for my security shift. Parked outside Birdie’s house is not a good place for me to be. At least it’s late. I volunteered for this shift, figuring Birdie would be asleep.

Being this close during her waking hours would have been a mistake. This way, I’ll be gone by four, and she’ll never even know I was here.

The passenger door of the SUV opens, and Chelsea slips inside. “Nice night,” she muses.

“If you say so.”

Of course, my partner isn’t fazed by my sour mood. She’s immune. I’d swear, she seems to thrive on it at times. Chelsea scans the inside of the SUV as if looking for an audience. Deciding it’s clear, she asks casually, “So, how long have you been sleeping with Birdie?”

If she had asked about anyone else, I would have laughed. Since it’s Birdie, I don’t find it funny at all. “You need to check who you’re getting your info from,” I say calmly. Barely. “I’m not sleeping with anybody.”

Chelsea pats my hand. “That’s good. I’d hate it if I had to train a new partner because Knot killed your ass.”

“Why did you ask? Who the hell’s talking?”

She grins as if I just confirmed her suspicions. “Nobody. This is my own observation of your uncharacteristic behavior as of late. You have been acting a little… ” Chelsea floats her fingers through the air, searching for the right word and pissing me off. “…lovesick.”

Don’t take the bait, Bash. “Your shift is over. I’ll see you later.”

She doesn’t leave, so I shove open the door, step out of the vehicle, and trudge to the SUV parked off my front bumper. Chelsea must have climbed over the console of the one I drove as she pulled away from the curb just a few seconds later, leaving me alone on the quiet street.

An initial inspection of the area turns up the same cars I tagged my first time watching Birdie’s place. The parking configuration is slightly different, but there’s enough continuity to convince me these are neighbors’ cars.

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