“Thank you,” I tell him. “You didn't have to do that.”
“I know,” he says.
“But I'm really glad you did.”
“I know, that, too,” he says. “Tell me what's going on.”
Dropping down onto one of the beds, I pour everything out to him. He listens quietly until I'm done, then reaches to pull me into his arms again. At some point, I fall asleep.
When I wake up the next morning, Sam has pulled a blanket over me and somehow wedged a pillow under my head. He's standing at the in-room coffee maker, trying to figure out the little flat pods.
I don't know what woke me up until I notice the screen on my phone is glowing beside me, and the little icon says I've missed a call.
"It was ringing, but I didn't want to wake you up," Sam says, noticing I’m awake.
Pulling myself up to a sitting position, I pick up my phone and click on the icon, groaning when I see who called me.
“Who was it?” Sam asks.
“Creagan,” I say. I rub my eyes and run my hand back through my hair. “Of course, now would be the time he has an assignment for me. Right when I'm in the middle of this.” I let out a sigh. “I'm going to go ahead and call him back.”
“Alright. With any luck, there will be coffee when you’re finished,” he says.
I manage half a laugh and grab my lightweight bathrobe to throw over my pajamas. My intention is to walk down to the small lounge at the end of the hallway that serves coffee and donuts in the morning, which Sam evidently doesn't know about. If I have to deal with this situation with Creagan, I might as well have breakfast at the end of it. If I get back to the hotel room and Sam's battle with the coffee maker has been successful, we'll have extra coffee. If not, I'll console him with raspberry-filled powdered donuts.
Things have fallen on the side of his needing consolation when I get back to the room several minutes later. He's sitting on the bed, holding a glass of water and looking crestfallen. Several soggy coffee pods sit on the counter beside the coffee maker.
He looks up at me when I come into the room and eagerly takes the donuts and one of the cups of coffee out of my hands.
“What's the assignment?” he asks. “When do you have to leave?”
“Turns out, I don't have to leave,” I tell him, still somewhat shocked by the conversation I just had with Creagan.
“What do you mean? Why did he call?”
“Detective White reached out to him. They found evidence of another body in the cornfield, and he formally requested my assistance on the case. The Bureau is now involved, and I am officially on assignment.”
Chapter Forty-Three
I'm at the jail as early as they will let me in the next morning. I want to get this over with. As I’d told Warden Light, Xavier deserves to hear this news from me, but I dread giving it to him. When I first spoke with him, he didn't even want to approach the idea of what he thought happened to Lakyn. He was resistant to it, never actually saying what he was worried about.
But the last time we talked about it, he seemed to tip over a ledge. Suddenly the reality sank in for him, and he realized how much time had passed. I still feel as if he’s holding onto some sort of hope. There's a part of him that doesn't want to have to face the truth that Lakyn isn't out there somewhere anymore.
That gives me all the more reason to tell him now. The sooner he hears it, the faster we can work together to figure out what happened to her. After handing over my phone and gun, I'm led to the same room where I met him for the first time. I sit on the couch, listening to the hum of the vending machine and feeling the cameras on me. I wonder if the warden is watching. Maybe he has some sort of morbid interest in finding out how Xavier will react to the news and the emotions it brings up.
Or maybe he's waiting for secrets to spill out.
After a few minutes, the door opens, and the guard escorts Xavier in. He's only inside for a matter of seconds before a nurse steps inside.
“You weren't supposed to bring him until he had his vitamins for the morning,” she scolds the guard. “It's important to keep him on his schedule.”
“He's not an infant,” I snap, immediately surprised the words actually came out of my mouth.
Those are the types of things I usually think to myself, but this whole situation has brought me to a point where my self-control is already worn thin.
“Of course he isn't. Schedules are important for keeping facilities like this running smoothly. It's easy to get off track when you don't stay organized.”
She holds out a small paper cup toward Xavier, and he takes it from her. Another paper cup must contain his vitamins and magnesium supplement because he tosses it back into his mouth then follows it with a gulp from the first cup. Handing them both back to the nurse, he turns his back on her and comes to me.
“Good morning, Emma,” he says.
“Good morning, Xavier. How are you doing this morning?”
“I don't like it when people ask that,” he says.
“Why not?” I ask.
“It means something is about to change.”
I nod and walk over to the couch, then decide to go to the table.
“May I draw with you?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says.
We sit down, and I take one of the pieces of paper sitting in the middle of the table and place it in front of me. Choosing a blue pencil, I start filling in the top part of the page.
“What's your favorite thing to draw?” I ask.
“It probably wasn't day,” he says.
I lift
