Page 150 of Chasing Infinity

Addison runs her hand through my hair and over the side of my face. “Will you be okay if I run downstairs for a bit?” she asks gently.

I nod my head, “That’s fine. I’ll probably just rest some more.”

“Okay,” she whispers, leaning down to press her lips to mine before she gets up and gathers her things again. “I’ll be home a little bit later.”

“No rush,” I tell her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Something makes her smile, and she blows me another kiss before disappearing through the front door. I reach for the remote with my good hand and click through the channels in an attempt to find something. I finally settled on an animal rescue show—not really my first choice. Still, I don’t feel cognizant enough to handle anything else. I relax back into the pillows and get sucked into the program.

I must doze off again because the next thing I know, I’m jolting awake to the sound of a loud Magic Eraser ad. Grumbling, I reach for the remote and hit the mute button. The apartment feels very quiet and still without Parks here. She said she’d only be gone for a while, so I try to ignore the anxious feelings trying to well up at the back of my chest.

The pain medication Parks gave me earlier must have kicked in because I feel rejuvenated. I barely register that I just had surgery on my wrist, and I’m feeling much perkier than I was when I first got home.

Rolling off the couch, I pad into the bedroom and rummage through my new set of drawers that Addison assigned me. I find the little black notebook tucked under some of my other personal items and pull it out, flipping to a page filled with scribbled notes.

Yesterday right after I woke up, Charlie informed me that he had taken it upon himself to investigate the Witch House. Without me.

“There was nothing there,” he had told me. “It was just an abandoned old shack like we figured it was.”

“Are you sure? Nothing weird or out of the ordinary?”

“No, man, just a bunch of junk. A few boxes full of garbage and this nasty orange couch stained by Lord knows what. I looked in every room and in every corner. I’m sorry, but it was just a dead end,” Charlie had said.

I was still a little loopy from the drugs to really worry too much about what he told me then, but now that my head is a little clearer, I need to get back to work. My father may have managed to knock me off course with this accident, but he has another thing coming if he thinks that a little broken wrist will deter me from taking him down once and for all.

My eyes scan over the notes I had jotted down about my concerns with the Witch House. Charlie may have scoured around, but a part of me still wants to go out there myself and see if I can find him. I appreciate the Sheriff’s help, but he’s not on the same level as me regarding this investigation. I might be able to spot something that he wasn’t.

I spend over half an hour flipping through the pages and making new voice memos on my phone since I can’t write with my wrist busted. As I dig into my notes, I still can’t help the feeling that I’m missing somethingbig. I have that niggling feeling at the back of my neck that there’s something major right in front of my face, and I’m just too jaded to see it.

With a frustrated sigh, I run my hand through my hair a few times. I tell myself that it will work out one way or the other. Still, it is disheartening to think I’ve been running around in circles without solid leads for an eternity. Next time I see Charlie, I’ll need to ask him if he had any luck with the bank information I found while snooping around my father’s office.

At the very least, that will flag something in the system, and we can get this rolling again. There’s nothing I hate more than feeling like I’ve stalled, and at the moment, that’s precisely where I am.

I know there’s not much else I can do at this time. It’s not like I can go out guns blazing to catch the bad guy—I can’t even hold my gun right now anyway. I’ll likely have to do a round of physical therapy to get the strength back in my hand, even to carry my weapon properly. After that, I need to worry about my shot. Who knows if I’ll even have the same type of accuracy that I did before I busted my wrist?

There are a lot of unknowns right now, and the more I think about it, the more I start spiraling into a wreck of nervous energy. Finally, I flip the notebook closed, realizing that worrying about this isn’t doing me any good. I put it back where I found it and reclaim my spot on the couch, flipping on the TV to try and get myself to relax again.

I only watch through two episode breaks before someone pounds on my front door. I look over my shoulder, immediately going on guard. Slowly, I get up and walk over, in no hurry to see who the visitor is. I peer through the peephole and exhale sharply when I see my boss standing at my door.

He turns to me with a tight smile as I swing the door open. “Noah.”

“Vincent,” I respond. I figured I would be getting a visit from him at some point. It was inevitable once Charlie gave him the call that I had been in an accident. He was elusive, though. I was never sure when or where Vincent would drop in.

“How are you feeling?”

“Can’t say I haven’t been better,” I tell him, pushing the door open further so he can come in. Vincent accepts the invitation, walks into my home, and looks around.

“This is a cute place,” he states.

“Thank you, it’s my girlfriend’s.” The word feels weird coming out of my mouth, but I can’t deny that I like the sound. It’s been a long time since I’ve said that.

Vincent turns toward me and raises an eyebrow as his lips press into a thin line. “Girlfriend, huh?”

I cross my arms over my chest, careful not to jostle my wrist too much. I don’t bother responding to his probing question. “What can I do for you? I assume you’re not here to chit-chat?”

Vin looks at me through his thick-rimmed glasses for a moment too long and then shakes his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“Well, then, I guess we better get to it then. Can I get you anything, water? Shot of vodka?”

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