Page 18 of Finding Our Reality

Am I making myself crazy by reading more into her words? I’m losing my sanity. Quickly. And the sad part is, I don’t even know if I want to save myself from it. Hell knows, I don’t deserve saving.

I toss the empty bottle into the recycling bin in the corner. “That’s enough.”

She scoots around in her seat, sitting straighter and grabbing an ink pen. “Your turn. Tell me what you see. Do you know these other people?”

Careful not to touch the pictures, I point. “That guy is Tyler. Holly,” I point to the girl next to Carrie, “was his on-again/off-again girlfriend. They were older than all of us, closer to Trey’s age. And the douchebag standing behind the couch is James. I knew him better than Tyler and Holly. He came over to Trash’s house more than they did.”

I study the images. “Just like you, I think Christina took the first five pictures. But I just don’t see her taking the last picture. No matter how high she was, I don’t think she would stand by and watch someone be sexually assaulted. She was already a mom, by then. She had kids, you know?” I look at Lulu for affirmation, but she doesn’t acknowledge me. “Either way, all the pictures were taken with her camera. Those letters,CAJ, after the date? Those are her initials. Christina Ann Janas.”

Her forehead wrinkles in thought. “You didn’t tell me that when you gave me the first picture.”

“You didn’t ask.”

She sits back, folding her arms across her chest. She’s not amused.

Tough crowd.

“Anyway, have you made copies of these pictures? I need to log them and get them over to a crime tech.”

“I don’t wanna use the state lab. The backlog is too heavy. I’ll pay for everything to go to a private lab.”

“We’ll have to get permission for that from the sheriff and the county prosecutor.”

She pulls her laptop in front of her, clicking around. “They responded to my request first thing this morning. You should have the paperwork on that approval by the end of the week.”

Who is this woman? My Lulu always loved to bust my balls. Now, she’s busting balls in a professional setting. It’s amazing, really.

She’s amazing.

And gorgeous. And sexy.

I clear my throat, shifting in my seat before my dick gets me into trouble. I pick up my discarded glove and wrap it around the palm of my hand, gently packing up the pictures and pregnancy test. “I’ll be back in just a minute. We can start going over the old case file when I get back.”

“What about the other evidence?”

“What about it?”

Her face softens for a moment. “You still have it, right? I mean, in evidence lock up? I’ve worked cases before where the evidence has randomly and inexplicably disappeared. That hasn’t happened with the stuff from Carrie’s car, right? I know it wasn’t much, but still.”

“Everything is safe. It’s right where it should be at the evidence warehouse. I promise.” I keep my mouth shut, not divulging more.

I know for a fact it’s safe. Because once a week, I drive down to that warehouse and check on it myself. But I won’t tell her that. How do I explain that to her? That I’ve thought about her so damn much over the years, that the only way I know how to express my concern is to watch over some receipts, soda cups, and a purse that belong to her missing, and presumed dead, sister.

As soon as I’m back in the conference room, we get to work, researching and discussing the day of Carrie’s disappearance and the first police report. It seems Lulu likes to take the same approach as me—look at the specific event in question, then dissect everything from the past that led up to the event, and then examine the aftermath. After working in chronological order, go back and review the evidence from the whole chain, segment by segment.

Eventually, my stomach starts to growl and muscles ache from sitting. I flip over my phone, checking the time. “We need to break for lunch. It’s two p.m. already. I’m starving.” I press the phone to my ear, hitting the command to listen to a voicemail someone left me a bit ago.

She peeks at me beneath heavy eyelids, scanning me from top to bottom. She doesn’t think I’m paying attention. She thinks I’m listening to my phone. Well, I can do two things at once, and I nearly wet myself when she mumbles underneath her breath. “Looks far from it.”

Kill me now.

My Lulu just checked me out.

I’m a thirty-three-year-old man. But having her eyes on me? It makes me feel like a young schoolboy having his first crush.

I stand up, pocketing my phone and straightening my duty belt. “Let’s grab some lunch. Come on.”

“I’m fine. I’ll eat a protein bar.”

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