Hours later Park was sprawled out and finally sleeping across his chest while Cooper checked his phone. He’d much rather forego the outside world and stay hidden away in bed with Park until doomsday but seeing as how a significant percentage of his nearest and dearest had found themselves on the wrong side of the law in the last twenty-four hours, it seemed like a bad time to cut off friends in high places.
Not that anyone seemed particularly friendly at the moment. Santiago had sent an ominous We have a lot to discuss on your return message. Dean had sent multiple texts, including Where are you? and Dad is acting weird and isn’t sure if you’re coming back to the house and finally R U and OP on run? Need $ and/or condoms?
Even Ava had sent a disturbing picture of a book Oliver had lent him last week with the jacket shredded and Boogie in the background with a glare that said, Come home or you’re next.
The last and strangest message was a voicemail from an unknown number. Cooper turned down the volume and played it once, and then again, listening more carefully.
Cooper, it’s me, Stephen. I need to talk to you. In person. Come by my house as soon as possible, it’s important.
Pause.
Do not bring the... Don’t bring Park. You have to come alone. Soon.
Another pause. Longer this time, and when he spoke again Stephen sounded almost angry.
If I so much as smell him down the block, forget it, we’re done. And so is Mr. Park.
Cooper played it a third time, but Stephen gave no hint as to what it was he wanted to talk about. He just gave his address and abruptly hung up.
“You aren’t actually considering going to that, are you?” Park said against Cooper’s chest, and he jumped a bit.
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“Did that. Awake now,” Park slurred. “Trust Daugherty don’t.” He licked his lips. “Don’t trust Daugherty.”
“Hmm, yes, wide awake and eloquent as ever.” Cooper ran his hand over Park’s hair and smiled when he felt him arch against him and hum. “Stephen wants to talk and it could be important, so yes, I am going.”
“I thought you were done investigating.”
“I am.” Cooper paused. “This isn’t investigating. This is just...a talk with an old friend.”
Park did him the courtesy of not calling that out as the obvious bullshit it was. “All right.” He rolled off of Cooper and stretched, several joints popping loudly. “Just let me put some pants on and we can start not investigating right away.”
“Park...” He was reluctant to disturb the cozy sort of peace between them, but didn’t see a way around it. “I want to go alone.”
Park dropped back down to the bed and stared at him. Then, abruptly, he laughed. “You’re not serious.”
Cooper felt a fizzle of irritation. “He said to come alone. He also said if he saw you again there’d be another fight.”
“Without sounding like a jerk, how can I describe just how little that concerns me?”
“Oliver—” Cooper forced himself to take a breath. “If he has something to tell me, something important, he’s not going to do it with you there. That’s not my fault, but that’s the way it is. As your partner, I’m asking you to trust me. Trust that I can, and that I will, take care of myself. Just like you expect me to trust you.”
Park looked at him for a long time, and Cooper almost worried he was going to say no. What the hell would I say then? But eventually Park nodded. “Okay. I will. I do.”
Cooper hesitated, wanting to lean down and kiss the frown lines from his forehead, but the charged words that had snuck out before, in the heat of the moment, lingered between them, unacknowledged and formidable now that the post-sex haze had officially passed. “I’ll call you after. Try and get some real sleep.”
Park nodded again, clearly holding back whatever it was he wanted to say.
Cooper was dressed and almost out the door when he stopped him.
“Cooper?” Park was sitting up in bed, the sheets gathered in his lap and his hair was sticking up absurdly. He looked rumpled, well-fucked and, just for a moment, something else. Some other sharp and urgent expression that looked like surprise was twisting his face. Why? Because he couldn’t believe he was acquiescing to this potentially risky plan? Because he hadn’t expected to trust Cooper? Or that Cooper would take advantage of their ongoing argument to get his way?
It was too late to ask. In a heartbeat the look was gone, cleared to his old, unreadable, politely blank mask. “If Daugherty says anything about me—” He stopped himself and shook his head as if he hadn’t meant to say that. “Will you tell me what Daugherty says?”
“Of course,” Cooper said. He waited, but Park offered no explanation. So with a nod he left, the image of Park lingering in his mind. He was already driving away when Cooper realized the urgent expression hadn’t been surprise at all. It had been panic.
* * *
He pulled into the driveway and checked the address. Stephen’s house was small and a bit chaotic-looking, but pretty. The sort of house Cooper could see himself wanting to buy tomato plants to keep on the porch for and spending all his free time in acrimonious dispute with groundhogs that started as a joke until it wasn’t. A shed to the side was painted to look like a woodland scene, and he vaguely remembered Stephen had married an artist.
He pulled out his phone and considered texting Park, if for no other reason than to make sure the ringer didn’t go off in the trunk and then he’d have to kill the guy.
Suddenly, the passenger door opened. Cooper jumped in his seat, heart racing wildly as Stephen slipped inside, looking more grim and serious than ever before.
“Jesus, you scared me.” Cooper released the Taser he’d grabbed for and left it holstered at his hip.
Stephen watched the movement shrewdly. “So it’s true. BSI.”
Stephen must have been looking into him. Maybe he’d asked Dean. What was the name of that department your brother transferred to again? Or maybe he’d reached out across the werewolf network, floating their names. Cooper focused on not flinching when he thought about what Stephen might have heard through that.
He opened his hands wide. “Sorry. I told you I knew everything, though.”
“And I said you don’t. Not everything.” Stephen shook his head and looked away.
“You’re right. This”—Cooper gestured between them—“came as a total shock. Does Dean know?”
“No. Of course not.”
“What do you mean, ‘of course’?”
“Does Dean know what you do?”
“No, of—”
Stephen’s face didn’t move. It didn’t need to.
“That’s different,” Cooper said.
“You’re right, it is. I’m different from you. I always have been. You just wandered into this world, what, a year ago? Two?” Cooper didn’t answer. “You don’t know everything. And you definitely don’t know how much danger you’re in.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“It’s a friendly warning because Dean is the closest thing to a brother I have and I don’t want to see his brother end up a scratching post.”
Cooper’s hands instinctively covered the scars at his belly. Stephen’s eyes followed the movement and he growled, “Park’s hurt you.”
“No! God, no. He would never do that. He’s an agent, too. He’s my partner.”
Stephen’s face turned frustrated. “That doesn’t mean he won’t hurt you. Maybe not intentionally, but he’s sick. He’s struggling.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve seen it before. Rose went through the same thing and it, well, it killed her.”
Cooper gaped for a moment, then leaned forward and whispered, “You think Park is on drugs?”
His first instinct was to laugh, but then he remembered the weird episode at the party, how tired Park was looking, his extra sleeping and loss of appetite. Even some of his more erratic behavior recently could potentially fit the bill. Primelles had accused Park of being in withdrawal and Cooper hadn’t even registered it, had dismissed it immediately—not Park—but the truth was, anyone could abuse drugs. There wasn’t really any type of person more likely to be an addict over another.
Still, Cooper’s brain rejected the idea. Aside from his sojourn in jail, they’d been together nearly every waking moment these last few days, even more than usual. Every non-waking moment, too. And before this weekend he’d never seen any of these signs before. That’s part of what had made a simple dizzy spell so alarming. Park had never shown the slightest hint of weakness. And Cooper had seen him in some pretty tight spots over the last four months.
“No,” he said finally. “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. I would have noticed.”
“Not drugs,” Stephen said impatiently. “Rose didn’t use either. Well, she self-medicated with pot, but never touched the hard stuff. When was the last time he changed?”
“Clothes?” Cooper said dumbly.
“No, changed. Shifted.”
“I’m...not sure.”
Cooper thought about it. Not since they’d gotten to Jagger Valley, certainly. This was the first time Park had really been alone. He’d been sleeping in late, too, not disappearing for his morning “runs.” He’d tried to the first morning, Cooper remembered, but that was when he’d run into Ed. Not in Ann Arbor either. The case had kept them busy during the day, and Cooper had latched on to him during the night, sneaking into his room and trying to work up the nerve to discuss their relationship status.
“A few days at least? Maybe a week?” Cooper jumped when Stephen hissed. “What? What’s the matter?”
“You don’t understand how dangerous that is, do you? He’s making himself sick. I could see it as soon as I met him. My six-year-old son could see it, for Christ’s sake. You didn’t notice anything at all?”
Cooper shook his head, but of course that wasn’t true. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”
“We need to do it every day. Miss a day, fine. But a week? I don’t even know how he’s held it together that long. Not only is he hurting himself, but he is going to lose control eventually and hurt anyone unlucky enough to be close by. Like I said, I’ve seen it before. Rose avoided changing, too. She’d push herself as long as she could. Weed took the edge off, but it wasn’t a cure, and eventually she’d...explode.”
“Why would anyone avoid shifting, though? I thought it didn’t hurt.” Had Park lied to him about that?
“It doesn’t. Not physically. Not really.” Stephen sighed and looked out the window. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, “How well do you remember my mom?”
“Umm, not that well,” Cooper hedged, unsure where this was going and unable to think of a single positive thing to say about the woman. “She didn’t leave the house a lot.”
Stephen smiled briefly, but it was closer to a grimace. “No, she didn’t. She was afraid most of her life, and more importantly, ashamed of what her children were. Werewolves,” he said to Cooper’s look of confusion. “Unnatural. Ungodly.”
“That’s...not okay,” Cooper said, the understatement of the year. “Why have kids if she hated what she was that much?”
“Oh, she wasn’t a wolf,” Stephen said, as if that was obvious.
Cooper stared. “What? I didn’t think that was...what?”
A bit of the old Stephen that Cooper used to know shined through as he rolled his eyes. “You only need one parent to inherit it. We got our father’s genes. He didn’t tell her about him and left before our first shift. So being werewolves was...a surprise. For all of us. Our mother didn’t take it well.”
“I’m so sorry.” Cooper didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t even begin to understand how frightening that would be.
Stephen shrugged. “It is what it is. But Rose hated it. She just wanted to be normal, to be what Mom wanted. So she suppressed it, didn’t shift, and it...well, it ruined her life.” He looked down at his hands in his lap. “Anyway, I can recognize the signs.”
“Park isn’t like that, though.” Cooper frowned. “He doesn’t hate what he is. He grew up with wolves.”
“So he’s comfortable talking to you about being a werewolf? He’s changed in front of you before? He’s explained to you why he’s choosing to do serious damage to himself by not shifting for a week?”
Cooper could imagine what his own face looked like. He turned away, mind reeling with questions, and Stephen was decent enough not to push it. Was Park always like this and he just hadn’t noticed? Was it all the time? Or was he just reluctant to talk about it around Cooper? Was shifting in front of each other something other partners did? Other couples? He had just assumed it was a private thing he wasn’t supposed to see and left it at that. But what if he had said or done something that made Park feel like he couldn’t be himself around him? The thought made him nauseous.
After a moment Stephen said, “I can’t say for sure why Park is doing what he’s doing. But I can tell you it could hurt you, badly, and it will definitely hurt him. It killed my sister.”
“I thought Rose died of an accidental overdose.”
“Technically she did. But that’s not the whole story. I told you she didn’t do hard drugs. She never went near meth before that. The whole blackmail thing made her hate being a werewolf even more, and she hadn’t shifted in almost two weeks. Think about how sick your partner is now. Double it. She was a mess. She would have known her heart was way too weak to start fucking around with methamphetamines.”
Stephen shook his head definitively. “No. She was either so far gone in her sickness that she didn’t know what she was doing or...it wasn’t an accident. She took her own life.” He exhaled loudly. “And if that’s the case, I blame it on not shifting, too. It completely fucks up your emotions.”
“I’m so sorry,” Cooper repeated. It felt even more inadequate than before. Inside his mind was whirling. Rose never touched the hard stuff... A flicker of a suspicion started to form.
“Don’t be sorry. That’s not why I’m telling you this. I’m telling you this so you stay the hell away from Park.”
That brought back his attention. Cooper pushed aside his musings on the case for now and shook his head. “I can’t do that.”
Stephen looked angry. “Fine.” He reached for the car door handle. “I said what I needed to be able to look your brother in the eye when something happens to you.”
“Stephen, wait—” Cooper hesitated, but there was nothing he could say to make Stephen happy. Not without destroying his own happiness. He leaned into the backseat, reaching for the stuffed white horse there. “Your son left this at the party yesterday.”
Before he could straighten back in his seat, he felt Stephen’s fingers rest lightly on his throat.
Cooper froze. His pulse picked up and his stomach cramped viciously. All it took was one claw to extend, as easy as stretching for a wolf. He couldn’t lose thirty percent of his carotid and walk away with a scar and some vitamins.
“What are you doing?” he said tightly, the words slurred as he tried to not move his jaw.
He heard slight sniffing, then Stephen’s fingers slid down his neck and pulled the collar of his shirt to the side a bit revealing the red skin where Park had bitten him.
“You’re sleeping with him.”
Cooper jerked away. He threw the horse at Stephen and it bounced off his chest and fell to the car floor. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I should have guessed last night, the way he was claiming you.” Stephen shook his head.
“Claiming—? That’s not—Park isn’t interested in that,” Cooper stuttered.
“I know what I saw. But if that’s why you won’t walk away, I suggest you find a new novelty fuck. I’m sure a BSI agent gets plenty of offers.”
“That’s not what this is!” Cooper yelled, outraged and disgusted. His words echoed in the car, and even Stephen seemed taken aback. He lowered his voice. “I’m not with him because of that.”
“Does he know that?”
“Of course he does.”
Didn’t he? Why wouldn’t he? Did it really need saying? Park knew that he...what? Loved him in bed? Nowhere else, though. Cooper had been so paranoid about not letting his feelings show, he hadn’t considered that he could come across as, well, cold. Uninterested. It hadn’t occurred to him that acting like he was only in it for the job and the sex might make it seem like he was only in it for the job and the sex. It sounded like first-grade logic when put like that, but felt like the most complicated problem he’d ever faced.
Was he unintentionally hurting Park? Was this the reason, or part of the reason, he was hurting himself by not shifting? How had Cooper not noticed that before? How could he not know what was happening to the person he was closest to in the whole—
He stopped. There was that feeling again. That suspicion that had flitted through his mind as only a fledgling before was growing, taking shape, and asking questions. This time he held on to it, thinking. The real mystery was not who had motive to murder Hardwick, for the same reason it wasn’t who murdered West. They were both secondary to the original crime. The very first murder.
“Look, thanks,” Cooper said. He extended his hand, and Stephen eyed it for a moment quizzically before shaking it. “This helped, more than you know, but I need to go. I forgot I’m supposed to be somewhere right now.”
Stephen’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re kidding. We’re right in the middle of something. Where are you going?”
Cooper started the car and smiled at Stephen. “To face the music.”
* * *
The marina was packed, and Cooper pulled into the overflow parking lot across the street. Before getting out he left a message on Park’s phone, surprised and, after his conversation with Stephen, worried that he didn’t pick up on the first ring.
“It’s done. We have a lot to talk about,” he said. Then, realizing he sounded like Santiago, added, “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Just meet me at Eliza Bell’s fund-raiser as soon as you can. I—”
He realized he had no idea how to end a voicemail with Park.
You’re everything to me! You’ve changed my life! I love you!
“Okay. Bye. Hope to see you soon.” He winced—Hope to see you soon?—and quickly punched end.
The marina looked like some kind of carnival. At one end they’d installed a stage where a sort of bluegrass band wailed away on banjos and tambourines. Along the boardwalk, tents and tables had been set up hosting games, food, and lots of places to learn more about her platform, register to vote, or most importantly, donate. Cooper slipped through the crowd searching the tables for Eliza.
“Have you gotten a button yet?”
“Please, help yourself to a pen.”
“Vote Bell!”
The volunteers were excellent at unloading all the personalized crap they had, but no one had actually seen the woman of the hour recently.
“I think she’s talking to the council.”
“I think she’s taking a moment to go over her speech.”
“I think she’s supervising the dunk tank.”
Cooper was heading toward the podium, determining that was the only place he knew for sure she’d have to be, when he saw Gabriel coming down the dock in his direction.
Shit. He didn’t want to deal with him now. Not right now and certainly not here, thirty feet away from the boathouse where Gabriel and his friends had...
But the crowd wasn’t quite big enough that they could slip past each other unnoticed and frankly, he was tired of running from this.
“Cooper!” Gabriel waved and Cooper steeled himself as he watched his childhood crush, bully, and heartache approach.
But he felt...nothing. Not the old fluttering of excitement and anticipation, not the belly-cramping anxiety and embarrassment, not even the anger that had burned through him yesterday like a brushfire. It was as if every last knot of emotion tangling him to Gabriel had relaxed and unraveled. Suddenly this was just a man he used to know.
Cooper could guess the reason why. Or rather the whom. Despite everything, there at the marina he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips, remembering the warmth of Park’s body beneath his own, the feel of him gradually relaxing in his arms. That was what real trust felt like.
Gabriel smiled back at him. “After last night I wasn’t sure I’d see you here,” he said once he neared, the noise of the crowd forcing them to stand closer than normal. He squeezed Cooper’s arm above the elbow, interrupting his reminiscing. “But I’m glad you made it. Your support really means a lot to me.”
“I’m not here for you,” Cooper said, pulling away calmly but firmly, and enjoyed the look of surprise and annoyance that soured Gabriel’s face. Okay, so newfound Zen notwithstanding, he was still a tiny bit petty. Growth was a process. And he hadn’t come here to grow. He impatiently scanned the crowd over Gabriel’s shoulder for Eliza.
“If you’re looking for your guard dog, he’s not here yet.”
Cooper stilled. “What did you just say?”
“You know, your overprotective colleague.” Gabriel smiled, but his staple Mr. Charming expression was wearing thin.
“How do you know he’s not here?”
“I drove past him walking over this way. He’s a...noticeable guy.” That was an understatement, and it obviously pained Gabriel to admit it. “I would have offered him a ride but”—he shrugged—“he was arguing with Agent Joon and I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Arguing with—?” Cooper whipped out his phone, but there was still no word from Park, and no wonder. God damn it. He should have anticipated one of the agents would be tailing them. What if they’d brought him in for more questions? What if they locked him back up and then Park lost control like Stephen said he would? Why were they so hell-bent on Park as a suspect? And how—
Cooper stopped and looked back at Gabriel who was waxing on about how many people had shown up to the marina and how well his sister’s campaign was going. “How do you know Agent Joon?”
Gabriel cut off mid-monologue, expression immediately defensive. “I—the FBI was questioning everyone yesterday. They wanted to know about you and—you and your colleague. Why you two were over at my parents’ place asking questions.”
Cooper blinked slowly. “It was you. You’re the one who told them about our relationship.”
Of course Gabriel had picked up on something between them—especially with his insider information on Cooper’s sexuality—but to have him go running to the FBI...
Cooper ran his hand through his hair and laughed without humor. “You know, when we were kids I probably would have analyzed the shit out of this show of jealousy, but not anymore. Because frankly, Gabriel, I don’t care. I really just don’t care.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“No, of course not. You just tattled on me as a purely selfless, concerned citizen. Tell me, did you unjealously call him my guard dog then, too?”
Gabriel’s face flushed. “So what if I did? That’s what he was acting like. He practically bit my hand off every time I touched you yesterday. He’s obviously got issues.”
“You implied he threatened you?” Cooper hissed. “Jesus, no wonder they came after him so hard.”
“Hey.” Gabriel reached for him again, seemed to think better of it, and crossed his arms. “I was just looking out for you.”
“You didn’t do this for me. Only for yourself. Just like always.” Cooper started to walk away, paused, and turned back. “And just so you know, Oliver’s not my colleague, he’s my partner. And he’s not my guard dog, he’s a goddamn good man, and no matter what else we are or aren’t, I know he’s always got my back and I’ve got his. So if you ever fuck with him again, you should be a hell of a lot less worried about his bite and more with my bark. Get it?”
Gabriel gaped at him, and Cooper allowed himself a moment of satisfaction at his expression—surprise, discomfort, and just the beginning of shame—before pushing by and continuing toward the podium. He pulled out his phone and tried to call Park again to no avail. The crowd was so loud he ducked into the boathouse to leave another message before continuing his search for Eliza.
It was actually a relief to be out of the noise for a moment or two. Plus, in all honesty, he needed a minute to calm down. His heart was beating hard, and a curious feeling of relief and rightness was pumping through his veins. Now was not the time to linger, but he knew as soon as he and Park were on the other side of this shit storm, Cooper would look back at this moment and appreciate finally getting to say the things he couldn’t twenty years ago. Gabriel and that day weren’t the only reasons he’d decided to get out of Jagger Valley, of course, but it was a big part of feeling like he was unwanted here.
Standing in the same boathouse now, Cooper felt like he’d reclaimed something. This marina didn’t have power over him anymore. It, like the valley, was just a place.
Cooper took a deep breath of salty air and looked around. It appeared like the Bells’ business was doing better than ever. The warehouse was packed with boats waiting to be worked on or simply being stored for the season up on little stilts around the sides of the building. Most of the boats were tiny: a lot of runabouts, utility boats, and even a few rowboats. In the center of the room, the floor was replaced by eerily dark bay water, sort of like a reverse peninsula. Two large walk-arounds were docked there, beautiful, luxurious things, and he walked to the edge to take a closer look. Water lapped gently at the dock’s edges, making the occasional odd hollow slapping sound when a passing boat outside the building drove the water in.
“Pretty, isn’t she?”
Cooper took a step back, startled by the voice.
Eliza Bell appeared on the deck of one of the large walk-arounds and leaned over the rail to look down at him. “I wanted to take her out today, but the engine’s been giving me trouble.”
“Day not busy enough for you?” he asked, and Eliza laughed.
“I have twenty minutes before I have to go up there and beg people to vote for me in the subtlest way possible. Being on the water calms me down.” She smirked and shrugged. “Bay kid.”
Cooper ran his hand over the design on the side, elaborate leaves and thorns twisting around the boat’s name. “Eglantine,” he read out loud. He recognized the word, a very particular flower, and the last doubt he’d had dissolved. He smiled brightly. “Did Gabriel do this?”
“Yes, he convinced me to let him do it years ago. It’s a bit showy but”—she shrugged—“it has sentimental value.”
She beckoned, and after a moment’s hesitation, he climbed up to join her on deck. It really was a pretty boat and obviously well cared for. The deck was bright, gleaming white, and spotless. There was an open toolbox by the cabin door. Cooper planted himself between it and Eliza.
“I was actually looking for you before,” he said.
“Oh?” She put her hands in the pockets of her overlarge raincoat that protected her light gray skirt-suit from the constant drops of bay water that wormed their way everywhere. Pinned to the outside was a “Vote Bell” button. “What can I do for you?”
“Yesterday you said something about Rose. You said that at the time you and she were friends, she was struggling with a serious drug problem.”
Eliza looked puzzled. “Yes, she did have a problem. I only wish I hadn’t tried to help her by myself. If I had told someone, got her some real support, maybe we wouldn’t have lost her. That’s why I’m running on the initiative to—”
“Earlier education on substance abuse, yes. I remember.” He nodded. “And just for the record, I’m all for implementing a more open and honest dialogue about drugs in schools. Except, Rose didn’t abuse drugs, did she? She had a health condition that would have made methamphetamines extremely dangerous.”
Eliza pursed her lips. “Uncontrolled drug use is always dangerous. Sadly, that’s not enough to stop an addict.”
“No, that’s very true. But in her case a single use would have been a guaranteed fatality. That’s why she’d never touched the stuff. Not even to try it. Not once. But you didn’t know that, did you?”
“You’re not making any sense,” Eliza said. Her gentle, comforting voice had shifted just slightly into something patronizing. A caricature of itself. She walked toward Cooper, making to get off the boat. “I have a speech to give in fifteen minutes, so if you’ll excuse me—”
“A lot of people thought Rose had a serious habit because her condition, when not handled properly, can be mistaken for withdrawal. I only learned that recently myself. What I didn’t understand was why her closest friend—her only friend, really—would claim Rose was an addict when she wasn’t.”
Cooper watched Eliza’s expression. The pleasant, so-happy-to-see-you politician face was hardening around the edges, a bright anger creeping into her eyes. “Maybe you weren’t really as close as you said. Maybe you just spun the story to serve your campaign better. That’s messed up, but it makes sense. But then I thought of something. The person who killed and framed Sal West couldn’t have just picked him at random. He or she needed to frame someone with at least a little motive to have killed Hardwick. The killer needed to know about the blackmail.”
Cooper paused. “Who would know about that? Hardwick did. So did Margaret Daugherty. But obviously they couldn’t have killed West. Stephen knew, too. But he doesn’t really fit, because he didn’t kill Rose.”
“No one killed Rose,” Eliza snapped. “She overdosed.”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “There had to be someone else who knew about the blackmail. But Rose wouldn’t have spread it around. She was scared, upset, she didn’t even want to tell the police. But maybe...she’d tell her best friend. Yeah, I think she’d definitely tell her best friend. Her only friend.”
Eliza’s eyes were blank. Her usually kind face was abruptly inanimate and her body was motionless, like she’d been switched off.
“If it helps,” Cooper said. “I don’t think you meant to kill her. I doubt you knew about her health condition or how dangerous even a tiny bit of meth would be. In fact, you cared about her quite a lot, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Eliza whispered. “She was my friend.”
“I know.” He kept his voice calm, casual, conversational. “This guy has been making me watch film adaptations of Shakespeare plays recently. Eglantine is not a word I’d have recognized before. Sweetbrier rose, isn’t it? You still care about her, even now.”
She nodded shakily. “Everyone thought she was a freak, a druggie, and a loser. But she was also funny, and kind, and beautiful and so, so sad.” Eliza blinked hard like she was trying to clear an image from her eyes. “We were close. I—I didn’t have many friends either. My parents... I couldn’t be distracted.”
“You were just as lonely as her.”
“She got it. She understood what it was like to have this, this perception of you constantly dictating your life.”
“You cared about each other. Then what happened, Eliza?”
“I found her snooping around Mommy’s office. Looking for evidence that she was stealing money from the pageant’s funds. Mommy was right. She was just using me the whole time. Laughing at me, after everything I told her.” Eliza gasped, and there were tears in her eyes now.
“So you killed her?”
“No!” she wailed. “I just wanted to get her kicked out of the pageant, to embarrass her. She was nervous. The competition was in a couple of hours. I said we should smoke. I told her a little weed would calm her down.”
“But you’d laced it with meth.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. I knew Jacob had some stashed away. I’d even tried it myself once. But she’d told me she had no tolerance. So I thought—I just wanted to make sure she didn’t get to the next round. I wanted everyone to know they’d been right about her all along. But she completely freaked out. She was shaking and screaming and...”
Eliza licked her lips. “Her eyes, they were insane. And her face.” She reached up to touch her own face. “It’s like she wasn’t even human anymore. I ran. I just ran away.”
“And Rose died.”
“It wasn’t supposed to kill her,” she whispered. “It was just a stupid joke. I thought my life was over. I hid in my room all day and waited for the police to come take me away. I was so scared.”
“But they didn’t come. Because everyone in town thought she had a drug problem anyway, no one looked too closely when she OD’d. No one but Alex Hardwick.”
“He knew what she was doing. He’s the one who put her up to it, so he suspected something else was going on. He broke into our house!” she hissed. “I found him in my room, but it was too late, he’d already found the meth. I begged him not to say anything. I told him it was a mistake, I was still a kid, kids make mistakes, but he refused. He said he was going to tell everyone what I did.”
“So you followed him out of the house, and as he crossed our yard you saw your opportunity, and you killed him.”
“I just wanted him to stop, to wait, but he wasn’t listening to me.” Eliza closed her eyes and shook her head. “I never meant to hurt Rose. She was my best friend. I loved her. It was a stupid accident and he was going to ruin my life for no reason.”
“I don’t think the Daughertys would think there was no reason,” Cooper said quietly.
Tears spilled over the edges of her eyes from beneath closed lids, streaking her cheeks, and dragging down the blush there in faint pink stripes. “It wasn’t going to bring her back. None of this will bring her back.” She sniffed. “You should have just let it be.”
“Come on, Eliza,” he said gently. “It’s over now. Let’s go.”
She nodded—“Yes. Okay”—stepped past him, whole body trembling, and started to climb over the railing of the boat. Her high-heeled pump slipped on the wet bar, and Eliza’s hand shot out for help as she stumbled backwards.
Instinctively, Cooper reached to steady her and regretted it immediately when her other hand yanked out of her raincoat pocket holding a wrench and clocked him across the temple.
“What—”
It was a glancing blow—she wasn’t strong enough to knock him out—but it was enough that he felt unbalanced for a critical second, and his eyesight was too unfocused to see Eliza shove him with all her strength over the rail.
Cooper flipped backwards and fell the ten feet toward the gap between the boat and the floor. His shin hit the edge of the cement, and bone-splitting pain shot through his leg like acid.
No, no, no...
His scream was lost to the water that filled his mouth and nose as his body slipped into the bay. For a moment all he could do was clutch his leg to his chest as he sank farther down into the darkness. The water was cold but everything below his right hip was on fire. He couldn’t tell how bad it was, how dangerous it would be for him to move, if he even could move. Carefully, his tingling fingers traced down over his knee and brushed torn flesh and the unexpectedly hard edge of something that must have been a protruding bone.
A wave of blackness hit him, and for a moment he couldn’t think anything at all. There was only shock and pain.
When he got his sight back, he realized he was gasping and choking on the brackish water.
Get up. Get out.
Bracing himself, he bucked back toward the surface while trying not to move his leg. It didn’t work. The pain winding up his shin and thigh and into every other corner of his body was nauseating, but he kept swimming up, reaching for the surface...
His hands brushed something smooth and solid above him. He opened his eyes. All he saw was darkness. Was he under the boat? Or had he drifted under the dock? If he moved to the right would he find the crack he’d come down through, or would he be moving farther under the warehouse floor?
What had started as an itch in the base of his lungs was rapidly becoming a desperate need for air so intense it was even beginning to mute the agony in his leg. Cooper couldn’t feel grateful. He spread his arms wide over his head, feeling the expanse of the thing above him. His depleting oxygen supplies had unhelpfully prompted a fluttering panic inside his skull, and he swept his hands back and forth as fast as he could under the water, searching for some way up.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Not here and not now. He still had something he needed to tell Oliver. He still had everything he needed to tell Oliver.
Suddenly the thing under his palms started to move, and Cooper pushed at it desperately as if he could speed it up. The water above his head became slightly lighter and he kicked up, hard, fuck what it did to his broken bones. All his limbs felt so light the entire bottom half of his leg might have clean fallen off and sunk to the bottom of the bay and he would not have noticed right then. He could see the light now and, hoping to god it wasn’t some divine tunnel shit, reached up, up, like he could grab onto the air itself to pull himself out.
Then there were arms around his chest and a body behind him in the water, and he was dragged swiftly to the surface.
Cooper took heaving drags of air, choking and expelling water faster than he could replace it with oxygen. He realized he was being held up above the water by a person, and that the person was growling “Fucking asshole” and “You idiot” and “Stupid, lucky porcupine” in his ear over and over.
Cooper turned his face into Park’s neck. “Eliza,” he said, or tried to. What came out was unintelligible sound and yet more of the bay.
“Shut up. You’ll hurt yourself,” Park said harshly, and then a bit apologetically, “Dean and Joon got her.”
Dean? Cooper’s eyes fluttered open. The boat that had trapped him below, the Eglantine, had been shoved up against the other one so hard it had done damage and was tilting, a literal shipwreck. Eight violent gashes ran down the side, utterly destroying the twisting vines and leaves meant to memorialize Rose. The moorings had been ripped straight out of the cement somehow and were hanging uselessly into the water. Neither Eliza, Joon, nor Dean were on deck.
He tried to turn and look for them in the boathouse, but Park’s arm tightened around him, holding him in place.
“Stop squirming,” Park said into his ear. “I need to get you out of the water.”
“Leg...broken,” Cooper managed, or an approximation of it anyway, and felt Park’s arm squeeze him again, like a spasm. The movement forced him to cough up more water, and his throat burned fiercely.
“Can you hold on to the dock for a second?”
He didn’t bother wasting what little energy he had left on responding, just grabbed on. Park lifted himself out of the water in one inhumanly graceful movement and then got his hands back on Cooper immediately, like a second was literally all he trusted Cooper could manage on his own.
Cooper didn’t take it personally. At the moment it felt true.
“Count of three.” Park hoisted him straight up into the air, and laid him carefully on the ground and okay, fuck, now he could feel his leg again.
Cooper swore, his head jerking back and grinding against the concrete, an almost pleasant distraction from the fire below. He felt Park fuss around the wound so delicately that he looked down there half expecting to see his partner blowing on it.
“Wha—” He stopped. Park’s face was...different. He looked, well, wolfier than Cooper had ever seen him. His eyes were completely changed, his teeth were fully out, and his face was sharp and off somehow. Like a piece of Escher art where the eyes couldn’t quite compute how the planes and angles lined up.
Cooper glanced back to Eliza’s boat. He could see now that the eight gouge marks through the decal were made by claws, and the angle it was tilted and rapidly taking on water made it look like someone had picked it up and tossed it across the boathouse, like a child flinging toys in the tub. But that couldn’t be possible. Right? He stared at Park.
“Hlehm.” Cooper made some kind of watery noise of surprise and pain, and Park looked up at him, and despite all the other changes, he recognized that look. Shockingly vulnerable, hopeful, and warm with a heavy overlying layer of pure exasperation.
Cooper reached up to brush Park’s wet hair plastered over his face away and then let his fingers trail across the changed bone structure, the flattened cheekbones and elongated jaw. Park stilled beneath the touch, not even breathing when Cooper’s fingers finally traced his elongated teeth. “Oli—”
Suddenly Park’s eyes flickered up toward something behind Cooper and widened.
What now?
Cooper jerked his head around expecting to see Eliza back with more tools.
Instead he saw his father. His father, who was holding his weapon pointed straight at him.
“Dad?” Cooper croaked, and it sounded more like “Dlehb?”
“Get away from my son,” Ed said, holding his gun steady.
The hell?
“I said get away from him!”
Cooper pulled himself up to sitting so he could face his father. Park didn’t move at all. Just stared calmly, but intently at Ed. “I’m just trying to help, Mr. Dayton.”
His face was abruptly back to being unremarkable. Like it had never been any other way. Cooper could see the confusion in his father’s eyes.
“No,” Ed said firmly. Confusion didn’t mean doubt. “I saw you. You’re the one who attacked him. Let go of my son or I will shoot.”
Park slowly released Cooper and started to raise his hands in the air. Cooper slapped them back. “Dad, put it down. Eliza attacked me.”
“No. No, I saw him...change. Your teeth, your eyes, your claws. You gave him those scars. You’re the—Cooper, get out of the way!”
Cooper had managed to drag himself in between Park and the gun, though his head was back to feeling gaseous and floating about three feet above his shoulders and his leg was...not something to think about. “Dad, stop. Oliver has never hurt me. He saved me.”
“You didn’t see. You don’t kno—”
“I know, Dad, okay? I know him. Everything I need to. And I love him. I really love him. Please just...” Cooper reached toward his father. “He makes me happy, remember?”
Ed lowered his weapon, and Cooper let out the breath he’d been holding, his eyes drifting shut in relief. Then they stayed shut because he didn’t have the strength to operate his lids anymore and the warm darkness that started in his eyes was leaking into the rest of him, blanketing his thoughts with heavy, blissful, numbness.
Blood loss, Cooper thought dreamily. Finally something’s going my way.
Somewhere above him he heard a voice, a really lovely voice—his favorite!—mutter, “Ditto, you sap,” before he didn’t hear, see, or think anything more.