“Jesus, fuck,” Hank grumbled when he watched the woman and Harley exit the restaurant together. Hank’s cell slid out of hand and fell to the table. He lifted his eyes and looked across the table to Hya, her brows drawn in confusion by his reaction.
Hya’s fork stopped midway to her mouth, but it was the look on Hank’s face that had her own going pale. “What’s wrong?”
Hank didn’t even know how he managed to say the words that came out of his mouth next, but he did, and evenly when he told Hya. “Catherine was the last person to be seen with Harley Aldridge.”
It was Hya’s fork that clattered to the plate. Shock sweeping her expression first, followed with anger. “Harley was that lawyer, right?” But Hya was out of her chair, pulling a hand through her hair because, shit, but then she sank back down in the chair because the ramifications of that statement. Her eyes found Hank, saw how she was feeling looking back. “Shit. You don’t think she…” Hya couldn’t even say it…talk about a dark turn.
Hank ran a hand through his damp hair and let out a breath. “I don’t know what to fucking think.” With that he stood, snatched his cell from the table and stabbed at the screen.
Hank knew who would have the answers. He put the phone to his ear and not a second later he heard, “Jesus, fuck, where have you been?”
“Drowning my fucking sorrows—”
Sean cut Hank off. “What?”
“Found out my parents took me from a druggy and—”
Again, Sean interrupted Hank. “Cassidy Jamison?”
Hank blinked, was that his mother’s name? His birth mother? “Don’t know,” Hank muttered.
“Shit, it’s all coming the fuck together,” Sean uttered more to himself as the missing pieces of the puzzle surfaced. “You see the footage I sent?”
“Yeah,” Hank grated out, that word feeling like a shard of glass in his throat.
“Have prints too, Hank.”
Hank had been pacing, needing the movement to keep himself calm. It was then he stopped and leaned against the counter, his eyes to Hya who was staring intently back at him. “Got a feeling I’m not gonna like what comes next.”
Hya crossed the room to him in solidarity.
“They belong to Catherine Barbos.” Sean told Hank lowly as if not speaking it loudly would ease the pain. “Didn’t take long to link it back to Catherine Weathers since all her information is in the system from when she worked at the federally funded shelter.”
Hank’s heart dropped into his stomach. He raised an unsteady hand to run through his damp hair, now not from the shower he took but from sweat. “What do you need me to do?” Hank mumbled into the phone.
“I have a plan.” Sean informed him and went on to tell Hank his plan. Hank agreed to it then gave Sean all the information that Arissa had shared with him. He disconnected the call, ignored Hya’s worried gaze because his thoughts were elsewhere. His thoughts were on Arissa. He needed her, only together could they retrieve the last two puzzle pieces.
* * *
Hank stood on her porch remembering the first time he’d been there, the mess of her hair, the flush on her cheeks, and the sweat beading on her forehead. She had looked frantic and pissed. But she was no less beautiful than when she was done up. He had known in that instant that his life would change but never did he think it would lead to the shit storm his life had become.
He gave two simple raps on the door and waited.
Arissa had been waiting for the realtor so didn’t look out the peephole before she pulled the door open. Her mouth opened, her focus shifted to see Hank. Her hold on the doorknob tightened and those tears that had kept her company for days burned the back of her eyes. She said nothing for the first few seconds, soaking up the sight of him, because he looked good, but under that he looked sad. She had done that.
“Hank.” Her voice was no higher than a whisper.
Hank kept his sunglasses on to hide the pain in his eyes when he saw the pain in hers. It stung because he caused it. But she caused him pain too. “I need your help,” he muttered quietly.
She wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. After all the shit she’d caused, the last thing she’d think he would want was her help. She didn’t hesitate though to say, “You have it.” She held the door open wider in invitation.
Hank took the gesture and walked inside. He felt a sharp pain in his chest when he saw all the boxes sitting in the front room. She was leaving. Hya told him that but it hadn’t registered, it did now. He forced the pain down and forged forward. “Alcohol would go perfectly for what I’m about to tell you, and ask of you, but we need our fucking wits about us, so coffee?” He tested but that snarling snake of pain reared its head when he added with a bite, “Unless you already packed the maker.”
The sharpness of his words had her head snapping up. It hurt him talking to her like that, fucking killed, but she only had herself to blame. And even with the hurt, and his anger, Arissa didn’t know what to do with her hands because what she wanted to do was reach for him, hold him until that pain left his voice. But she was the one who put it there.
