Dr. Ian West

Recap time.

Let’s make this brief, because I have plans.

Okay—let’s see. The trial concluded this week. The verdict was handed over by the jury on Wednesday, citing a unanimous guilty judgment to the first degree murder of Devin Tillman.

After expert handwriting analysis, and days of counter expert testimony trying to debunk the analysis, in the end, Shaver provided—literally, in his own hand—the damning evidence that convicted him.

It was the her blood will spill line that cinched it.

Once Shaver’s method was established, the link between the Tarot card and crime scene paved the way for Eddie to enter the motel DNA as evidence. There was very little doubt Smigel could create after that. Shaver was in that room. His DNA was found on Devin Tillman’s body.

Nail. In. Coffin.

Upon his conviction, the media dubbed Shaver the Arcana Killer. Catchy, right? Typically, a killer has to be found guilty of at least three murders before he gets a moniker, but once the details of the trial reached the press, the connection between Shaver and his Tarot card staged crime scenes went viral.

There are other scenes, other victims. Major Crimes has connected at least two other murder victims to Shaver’s MO, and they’re heavily investigating to gather evidence to prove it.

Lyle Fisher did testify. He admitted to delivering the Tarot card to Melanie’s gravesite, but not to any knowledge of Porter’s abduction beforehand. He was a pawn. As such, he was granted immunity for his testimony.

But that doesn’t mean we’ve stopped investigating him.

Judge O’Hare sentenced Shaver to life without parole. He presented a lovely closing speech that gave me chills, describing Shaver as the most gruesome monster to ever desecrate his courtroom.

It was quite fitting, seeing as Halloween is just around the corner.

Tonight is the eve of, in fact.

After forensics tested the evidence, I had to decide what to do with my property. The card and the cups at Porter’s apartment proved useless after they were processed. No prints, no DNA. So I took the card, and told them to melt the damn cups.

I don’t know why I kept it. Other than some morbid proof; a reminder not to go down the wrong path again. Or some shit. I don’t know. Shaver wanted the card, so I kept it from him. Simple as that.

During his transfer to a maximum security prison, Shaver was attacked by another transfer inmate and stabbed three times with a makeshift knife. Two superficial flesh wounds, and one fatal puncture wound to the liver.

Shaver was transported to a hospital where he died during surgery.

He didn’t serve one day of his sentence.

Justice or injustice?

Only his victims can answer that for sure.

Kind of an anticlimactic ending, I know. But the one assurance this brings is that Shaver no longer poses a threat to Porter, or anyone else. He can’t manipulate anyone from behind bars like a psycho puppet master. That fear is alleviated. Gone.

Porter was released the afternoon I took the stand against Shaver. With her physical condition improved, and tests confirming she was out of danger, she demanded her release, making arguments against being kept against her will.

The hospital staff was more than delighted to give her a clean bill of health and send her on her chipper way.

Porter gave the firm her notice, giving up the partnership, and came to work with the good guys. She officially started today, bringing a case with her that she picked up while in the ER. I told you before, the woman is relentless.

Even though the trial is over, and Shaver is dead, the team is still working the Arcana angle to help recover more victims. It’s the victims that matter; giving closure to the families.

Oh, you were hoping for something more exciting, like a twist? Yeah, honestly, me too. I’m still moving around the parts in my head as the team and Major Crimes tries to narrow down the proxy perpetrator who abducted Porter. Fisher is the most likely suspect, but he actually has an alibi that checks out. There are many Shaver associates to investigate, so I have faith we’ll find the person. We’re getting closer.

I know that, even though she won’t admit it aloud, Porter will feel safer once she has this permanent closure. There are moments when I catch her staring off, listless, before a shudder takes her. Like she just recalled a memory, or she’s trapped in that container again, her mind held prisoner.

I do my best—as a psychologist, as the man who loves her—to bring her out of these trances safely, and to help her keep moving forward.

That’s what my plans are about. Now that we’re free of the trial, and Shaver is buried six feet below, I’m taking Porter away from DC. A short trip to a B&B where, for two days, we leave lawyering and trial science and criminals behind. Two days that belong all to us.

I gather my briefcase and phone from my desk, then look around the office. It’s a peculiar feeling to leave it vacated for even a weekend. I sent Mia and Charlie home earlier, demanding they take time off to recoup before we start the new case on Monday.

“You look so lost.”

Porter leans against her desk, the one we placed next to Mia’s. It’s like it always belonged there. “I’m not lost. I’m just…thinking.”

She walks toward me, those sexy hips swaying in that damn tease of a pencil skirt. Her arms link around my neck. “What are you going to do with two whole days off work?”

I slip my hands to her waist with a long, exaggerated sigh. “Oh, I’ll be working.” I kiss her wrist. “I’ll be working here.” I move to her neck. “And here…”

She laughs and slips away. “I am not starting that here, with all these mics and cameras around. Mia’s tech freaks me out. I’m going home. To sleep.” She gives me a quick kiss before attempting to walk off.

I grasp her hand. “Wait. I’ll walk you home.”

She crosses her arms, defenses on high. “I’m fine, West. You don’t have to keep being the hero. I can walk myself home.” And she’s off again.

I snag her arm and bring her to me, where I clasp those hips I adore and plant her right on my desk. “Listen here,” I say, taking her face in my hands. I tilt her head back, look into her golden eyes. “I know you can handle yourself and that you don’t need me to save you or protect you.”

She licks her lips. “All right, then. Settled. Let me down.”

She tries to wriggle free, but I move in closer. Hold her tighter. “But I want to,” I say, stroking her jaw tenderly. “You saved me first, Porter, and I will want to save you every day from here on out. I need to, so give that to me. I want to be your hero the way you’re already mine. Please tell me you’ll have me.”

Her eyes shimmer, and as she struggles to blink away the wetness, her breaths come uneven. “Stop making me love you so damn much. I don’t know if my heart can take it.”

I smile. “I know the feeling.” I kiss her deeply, the ache in my chest overwhelming, crushing. I will never take this for granted. I will never miss a day where I tell her how much she means to me.

Loss and grief breaks you—but it also forges a new path through the pain, if you let it—one where you appreciate every new chance to love again.

Yes, I know. I’ve turned into a sap. I might even be a little whipped. But damn it feels right. Just like my hand on Porter’s thigh as I ease upward.

“Is that sexy lace thigh-highs I feel?”

Her smile—that sly minx smile I love—curves her lips.

I groan. “That’s it. Let’s get you home. Now.” I’m might be a sappy man, but I’m still a man. I walk Porter to her apartment, gloating that I actually won an argument with her, until she shuts me up.