Page 23 of Eden

“I was driving home from the office after filing the last of the case documents. A woman stepped out in front of my car, and I hit her,” she said, voice trembling. “I killed her.” She inhaled a tight breath. “I was cleared of all charges, but... I have to go to sleep at night wondering if—if I’d been less consumed with work and more focused on driving—would I have been able to stop in time? I ask myself that question every night and it tortures me. So, I decided to step back from my role. I needed a break from Los Angeles. I thought I’d come somewhere quiet...” She gave a choked laugh. “I’m beginning to think death follows me.”

He looked at her for a long moment. It was like she’d just told the story of his life. The question he tormented himself with every night; his need to escape a city to a quiet life.

Death followed him too.

Before he knew what he was doing, he reached out, placing his hand over hers. He didn’t verbally respond—he didn’t know what to say—but he felt her, understood her.

“You know what I think our problem is?” he eventually asked with a small smile.

“You think I have problems?” she joked.

He chuckled. “I saidour. We detectives... we overthink things. We torture ourselves with questions and details. We see the worst in everyone, and in the world. I think you’re human and you just need a little time.”

Lachlan wondered how they’d gotten so deep so quickly. But this was the thing with Bethenny: it was easy.

Her eyes lingered on his. “How much do you charge an hour? I like talking to you more than to my therapist,” she said with a laugh.

He grinned. “For you, it’ll always be free. I owe you that much at least.”

A smile spread across her lips. “You owe me nothing. Except, if I ever get lost in the woods on a case, please come looking for me.”

“Promise,” he said, and he meant every letter of the word. He thought back to what she said about her work. “Do you really think being consumed by a case is a negative? I’m not sure there’s a way to do what we do without being consumed.”

“I agree, and I can’t seem to solve a case unless I’m living the case with every breath I take. I’m scared if I don’t live like that, I’ll miss something,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Is it a terrible thing, to be consumed with a case?” he asked.

She shrugged. “One case? Maybe not. But there never seems to be a break between them. Ten years passed and I realized my job was all I had. I’m thirty-three years old and have nothing but work to make me happy,” she said, looking away, hiding her vulnerability.

He noticed she did that whenever she was uncomfortable, and he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable.

“Do you want to know what I think?” he asked, smiling when she looked back at him.

“Go ahead,” she said, seemingly amused.

“I think you’re too hard on yourself, and at thirty-three years old you’re just getting started. My mother had me very young and built her career while raising me. You’re just doing things in reverse. You have a ninety-two-percent closure rate on the homicide cases you’re involved in—that’s impressive by anyone’s standard,” he said, and she raised her eyebrows.

“How do you know my closure rate?” she asked.

“Mitch told me. He’s proud of you—his homegrown, Redwater detective.” He grinned. “Look, I don’t know the details of what happened with the car accident, but I know if someone stepped in front of your car there’s likely little you could’ve done, and you were surely cleared from all charges for that reason. Just give yourself some time to deal with that,” he said, telling her what everyone had told him after Eden’s death: Time.

She tilted her head to the side, seeming to study him. “You think time heals all wounds?”

His heart stumbled over itself. “Yes,” he lied, not because he was uncomfortable, but because he needed to believe that lie. If it didn’t, he would spend the rest of his life living in the same hellish nightmare and never wake up. He couldn’t bring himself to say no aloud, as if it would somehow shut down the possibility that what he was saying could be true.

Bethenny looked at him a moment longer, then nodded.

She drank the last of her soda and pushed her empty plate away. “I’m done,” she said.

His eyes dropped to his empty plate. “Me too. They really do make the best pizza here,” he said with appreciation.

“Agreed,” Bethenny said, stifling a yawn with her hand. It had been a long forty-eight hours and Lachlan didn’t know if she’d slept at all today.

He looked for the waitress and held his hand up for the bill.

Bethenny pulled out her purse, but he shook his head. “It’s my treat. It’s the least I can do.”

She looked like she was going to refuse, but then tucked her purse back into her handbag. “Thank you, but you really don’t need to. I understand Mitch’s position, but I would never have made the call he did. You don’t leave people behind. You come home with them, or with their body,” she said almost apologetically.

---