Page 18 of ILY
I sigh and then stand up. “Where are your cups? Seems like you need something to drink.”
He gestures vaguely at the row of cupboards hovering above his counter. “I do. I need something very strong. I keep the vodka in my freezer.”
“I was thinking water,” I reply as I move toward the cabinets and scour around. I find a few plastic cups and pull one out, filling it from the fridge spout and handing it to him.
He sips at it, the tip of his nose red from crying. “What’s your name?” he finally asks me, meeting my stare.
“Probably best not to tell you that.”
“Well, you know mine.”
“You had it in your username. Just spelled differently.”
He rolls his eyes. “I guess, yeah. I didn’t exactly think that one through. I’m very bad at being bad.”
“You are.” Shit. Maybe I can save him. It’s the worst thing an agent can think, but I can’t help myself. He’s just so…different.
He huffs a laugh and then sets his cup down. His hands ball into fists and rub his eyes. “I think I need to go to bed. Today has been far too eventful.”
“Yeah.” I really should take him in. I even have enough probable cause. Although meeting someone to buy TNT isn’t technically against the law—well, depending on the permits I can almost guarantee he doesn’t have. But I can’t bring myself to do it.
I tell myself I just need him to incriminate himself more. I need him to let me know where he’s keeping Michael so I can free him before something bad actually happens.
He glances around and then shakes his head. “You can show yourself out?”
“Sure.”
He nods and then stands up and pats his hand against my chest. “Alright, night, Echo.”
He gives me a cute little name sign as he says that. An ‘E’ near the ear, and it makes something in my chest flutter.
Fucking hell. I’m in so much trouble. I’m breaking so many rules with this guy.
And yet, I still don’t leave. Just watch as Leaf turns and leaves a complete stranger in his house. This criminal reallydoeshave no sense of self-preservation.
I hear a door close upstairs, and I stand there in his kitchen, looking around, before I decide to show myself outside, to the backyard.
To see if I can find Michael.
Once more, I tell myself to call this in, but I don’t follow protocol. I want to make sure this isn’t some kind of hallucination on Leaf’s part. Maybe there is no Michael.
This has to be one big misunderstanding. Because Leaf doesn’t seem like a criminal. He really doesn’t.
I’ve spent most of my career learning people—learning how they lie, learning how they hide shit and get away with it for ages. It’s not really a surprise when they manage to fool everyday people. Even the ones closest to them. They don’t have the training I do.
Which is why Leaf is throwing me for a loop. I spent the entire time I’ve been face-to-face with him trying to find that tell. That little giveaway that would reveal the true psychopath he was. A monster capable of capturing, torturing, and eventually murdering a man.
But I can’t. It’s not there.
Either Leaf is the best criminal mastermind the world has ever known, or…I’m wrong.
And that’s the reason I’m still walking this property—the reason I’m making this my last case.
If I can go out with a bang—if I can solve something big—if I can save someone, it will be worth it. So I take a few more steps in the opposite direction from where my car is parked.
I wander around the yard, looking inside the sheds, searching for any sign of Michael, but find nothing. The only evidence that what he’s said is somewhat true is the half-eatenvegetable scraps scattered here and there and holes in the ground. Something a rodent would make.
Either way, there’s no Michael here.
