Page 121 of One Killer Night
I don’t care if it’s his van, no way was I letting him get us to where we need to be. He’d have us re-creating some fucking movie scene to deflect from the seriousness of what’s going on. I know that’s why he’s acting like this. It’s what Chase excels at—making a shit situation seem tolerable—but I’m in no mood.
I slide inside the van and turn it on.
“So, what’s the plan?” he breathes out. “Should we stake out the coffee shop before going in?”
With one hand on the wheel, I back up, then pull out onto the street.
“The plan is to sit down and tell Matthew Wright the truth, in the hopes it brings her parents some peace. It’s the least I can do for them.”
Chase drops the bullshit for a minute. “Do you think maybe they could help you find out some information about your dad? This guy’s a private investigator after all.”
“Working in line with someone else’s interest.”
We stop at a red light as he looks at me. “But he’s a professional. His interest is his bottom line. I don’t think it would be far-fetched to ask.”
I hit the gas as the light turns green. “You got a point. Okay, I’ll ask.”
Chase taps the dash like he’s playing the drums. “This is good. Last thought. Don’t be mad ... Do you think we should have code names?”
“Shut up until we get there. Just no talking.”
The car goes quiet, but I still hear him whisper “So, that’s a no” under his breath. We drive deeper into the city before I turn onto the street where we’re meeting the investigator. Parking is impossible, but we find a spot half a block away.
As we’re getting out of the car, I glance at Chase.
“You’re really going in with the whole getup?”
“I’ve committed, Noah,” he answers back.
“You shouldbecommitted,” I whisper, but he ignores me.
We walk the block as the muscles in my jaw start doing more work than they should. I’m nervous and I don’t know if I’m making a mistake. Before we walk inside, my hand comes to Chase’s chest.
“Am I fucking up? Should I risk the information getting back to her?”
I know she’s in Portland, and I’m committed to keeping her safe. But a piece of me is still scared to death that if she called and told me to come get her ... I would.
Like a selfish, irresponsible asshole, I would run both of us away and try to never look back, because it’s starting to feel like I’ll never know how to live without her.
Chase pulls his glasses off and stares back at me. “Not telling her is another lie ... I know I’m not supposed to say this, but you have to decide if one day when all this shit is finally over for you ... Do you want to win her back?”
He didn’t even have to finish that sentence before I thought of the answer.Yes. It’s always going to be yes. Even if it’s a pipe dream.
“As an aside,” I say, using his phrasing from earlier today and grinning in the face of my nerves, “I really like how I’m still alive in all your scenarios.”
He smirks and puts his glasses back in place as he opens the door. “Manifestation, baby. I learned it from this girl who used to only say Brad Pitt’s name when we fucked.”
We walk inside and grab the nearest table before he goes to the counter and orders himself coffee. I can’t even think about drinking anything. When he comes back, we sit in silence, just waiting.
And waiting.
I check my phone after another fifteen minutes pass, but no messages have come through, so I send him one.
Me:I’m here. With a friend in the front.
“Dude, what time were you supposed to meet?”
Chase is playing with the stir stick from his coffee as he looks around. I flip my phone down, already knowing the answer.
