Sunday morning, they were back at her house. They’d spent a few nights at Ian’s, but it’d been quiet and she missed her own bed. Nothing wrong with Ian’s; it just wasn’t hers.
Sure, his house was nice. It was smaller than hers but all newly updated and masculine. Like maybe he had a hobby and worked on it when he could. Or his father did.
Either way, she just wasn’t as comfortable there and in her mind, there was no reason she couldn’t return home and told Ian that.
The truth was, she was getting too used to spending time with him. When this ended, because she was sure it was going to, she needed to keep her heart in check.
They were getting ready to leave when he got a text on his phone and his face lost all the composure he’d always maintained. He wasn’t angry; he looked almost sad. Lost even.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, walking over and running her hand up and down his arm.
“Nothing,” he said and put his phone back in his pocket.
“You don’t lie as well as you think you do.”
“That’s because I’m not trying to,” he said, walking away.
Hmm. She didn’t like the sound of that. That he could lie well enough to fool her, even though she hadn’t been fooled once by him. Or that he purposely wasn’t because maybe he wanted her to question it? It was bringing up all the bitter memories of why she stopped dating the hard and wild guys.
“Tell me what’s going on, Ian.”
“So you can do your head shrink routine?”
She wanted to get angry but didn’t. She just grinned at him, knowing it’d probably annoy him. Maybe enough to talk. “It’s what I’m so good at.”
“I’m not your client anymore,” he argued.
“No, you’re not. You’re my friend. My lover. I’d like to think that gives me license to find out what is bothering you.” She ran her hand over his, giving him tenderness and comfort for once. “Ian. When you’re someone that runs toward danger instead of away from it, it’s hard to swim in the river of pain and not get wet.” She knew that herself. “Talk to me.”
He threaded their fingers together for a minute, then let go and sat down. “The girl...the one I shot.”
“Yes,” she said.
“No word on who she is. We haven’t been able to track her family down, get a name, anything. I walked the streets with her picture and no one would talk to me. I exchanged cash with people I’d rather not come within ten feet of and all I got was a shrug here and there. Someone called her Lady. That was it. It wasn’t her name by any means.”
“Why are you trying to find out?” she asked. She remembered him saying before that everyone had someone that missed them and she was wondering if he was still holding on to this. That it might be the type of closure he was looking for to put it behind him.
His job hadn’t been affected, nor his performance. He wasn’t holding anything back. He wasn’t holding much in either, that she could see. He was fine like she’d said he’d been all along.
Ian had shot other people in the line of duty. He’d killed someone in self-defense. She’d seen it all in his file. But this was different for him. She knew that, he knew that, but it wasn’t so different he couldn’t move on. Just not fully.
“It doesn’t feel right to just walk away from it. No name, no nothing. They’re going to cremate her to get her out of the morgue. They’ll store the ashes for a time, but that’s it.”
“Does that happen often?” she asked.
“It does. It can. Just not to me. Just not a case I’ve worked on before.”
“What can you do to get answers?” she asked. She figured the best thing for him was to just ask questions on his way toward a solution, rather than how he felt. He was a person that needed results and this seemed like one of those situations.
“I don’t know. We’ve run her prints. We’ve asked around. I’m having her picture run through facial recognition for missing persons, but she’s way down on the list of priorities right now.”
“You can’t save everyone,” she said.
He turned to look at her, then frowned. “There was no saving her. Not that night. There’s nothing to save now. I just want her to have some type of closure for her family. Or acknowledgment at the least.”
“If she has a family,” Cam said.
“We don’t know one way or another.”
“You’re doing the best you can. But even you should know that closure doesn’t happen for everyone. Not in your line of work and not in mine.”
“How do you deal with it?” he asked. It was probably the closest he’d ever get to asking for help.
“I put it aside, but not from my mind. I tell myself if I ever get a chance to make a difference by learning from what I might have done differently, then I will. But if I can’t, I won’t let that defeat me. I won’t let it control me or my future.”
“It’s not controlling me.”
“I didn’t say it was. You asked me how I dealt. I’m telling you what I do. What I think of. If you were put in the same situation again, exactly the same, would you have done anything differently?”
“I would have stopped Mick from going into that apartment. I would have realized something wasn’t right.”
“So you learned from that. But I meant if you found your partner being stabbed, would you have shot to injure, or shot to kill?”
“I wouldn’t have changed a thing.”
“Then push it from your mind, but don’t wipe it out. When the time is right, the information will come to you.” She reached her hand for his again and held it, then sat next to him and hugged him to her chest.
***
Cam said her purpose was to make people feel better and that was what she was doing right now.
He knew he’d do the same thing again if he had to protect his partner. Protect anyone. But that young nameless girl was just haunting his thoughts. Making him wonder if anyone wanted to know what happened to their child.
He’d take Cam’s advice and do what she said. He’d push it aside, but not away. He’d focus on Cam and her life, the two of them together, and if he had a chance to find out more about the teen, he would.
“Do you want to go to lunch today?” he asked, wanting to get out of the house. They’d spent most of the weekend in, him cooking for her, the two of them relaxing and talking, being almost a couple. But he was getting antsy and he figured she was too.
“I actually need to get groceries,” she said.
“I’ll go with you,” he said. Anything to stay with her. Not because he was trying to protect her but because he just wanted to be with her.
It was dangerous to let himself feel something for her knowing that it might be temporary, but he wasn’t going to stop now. Rather he was going to take advantage of the time they had together and worry about the future when the future came.
“Then let’s go if you think you want to enjoy your Sunday afternoon helping me pick out fruit.”
He laughed, grabbed his keys and followed her out the door.
“Cam. You never get groceries on Sunday.”
They both turned and there standing in front of him in the grocery aisle was an older version of Cam. Classy and elegant even on a Sunday afternoon. A light-colored pair of pants and a sweater with a pearl necklace and bracelet on, even heels. She looked like she’d come from church even though Cam hadn’t once said a word about religion.
“Mom,” Cam said, leaning in and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “This is my friend Ian.”
Friend, he thought, fighting back the snort. He wanted to correct her but didn’t need to. “Friend, darling? Don’t go trying to fool your mother. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone when we had lunch the other day?”
“It didn’t come up,” Cam said. “And it’s early still. I don’t need you scaring anyone away.” Cam slid her arm through his, but it was forced and he knew and was annoyed over it. She must be uncomfortable introducing someone so common to her mother. “You always want to meet whoever I say I’m dating. It’s dating, Mom.”
“Buying groceries together is dating?” her mother asked, looking at the cart Ian had his hands on. The one that Cam had just dropped some bananas in.
“You’re reading too much into it, Mom.” The hurt again, blasting through the steel he’d tried to erect around his heart while he was with her.
Her mother clucked her tongue, then said, “We’ll see. Call me soon, darling. I’ll let you get back to shopping with your friend.”
Cam was quiet the rest of the way through the store and then on the drive back to her house. He shouldn’t have let himself feel what he had been. He should have reminded himself again and again it was a job. An assignment.
He shouldn’t have let himself believe it could be more.
“Why didn’t you tell her about me?”
She calmly turned her head. “There was no reason to. As you’ve kindly pointed out several times, you’re protecting me. We aren’t sure where this is going to go when it’s all said and done and there is no reason to get my family involved.”
“Because they’d scare me away?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said quickly, then let it drop.
But he didn’t want to let it drop. He wanted to talk about it for once.
Only she wasn’t going to, it seemed, when they pulled into her driveway and silently unloaded her bags, then put everything away.
“It seems I should go back home now.”
“It would probably be for the best since you’re ticked at me.”
“I don’t know what I am.”
“Sure you do,” she said, turning. “You’re hurt. You think because your father knew about me, that I should have run and told my family. But you forgot that everything is being held back from my family right now. If I told them about you, and then once this is over you’re gone, they’ll want to know why. I’d have to lie and say it didn’t work out, or be honest and tell them why you were with me to begin with.”
“Or you could find the truth in the middle like I did with my father.”
“My family isn’t like that. When we get to the future like we talked about, then I’ll make a decision what to tell them. Until then, let me handle my family the way I want to.”
“Fine,” he said, moving toward the back door. “I’ll give you some time and space that you seem to want but aren’t willing to tell me you need. There’ll be patrols around your house and outside tonight.” When she went to open her mouth he said, “No arguments,” and slammed out the door.
He wasn’t hurt. Not at all.
Then why the hell was he lying to himself?