Split [ONC 2024]

11. Unethical

We are silent on the way to Daniel's place. 

He wanted to take me home, but I reminded him that it's a crime scene, and even if it wasn't, I wouldn't be caught dead returning there. I'm not sure I could ever walk through my living room again without seeing Steve on the floor, his eyes bulging, his face purple, mouth opened in a silent scream. The image haunts me. As does the kiss Daniel and I shared in the interrogation room.

It's wrong. It's definitely not appropriate. And yet, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Because while I was kissing him, for the briefest moment, I felt alive again. Like a normal person.

I'm in shock. I'm vulnerable and grieving so of course I want warmth and attention.

It makes sense for me, even if I hate it, even if I'm aware I should have more self control. But it gets me wondering why he did it. I throw him a sideway glance, but his face tells me nothing.

He's attention is on the road, as it should be, and his frame is neither tense nor relaxed. How did I end up here, in a car with a man I barely know and yet, who I would give anything to kiss again?

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you home?" he says into the silence.

"Yes. For the reasons I already mentioned." He could take me to a hotel. That's what he should do. Leave me there and return to his investigation, find out who killed my husband and my boss.

But for some reason, the moment Steve died, every bit of professional ethic seems to have left him, shed together with his suit. He's not the man I first met, the one who saw through my vague affirmations and turned the facts into valid police theories. The one who could see details everyone else missed.

"What happened?" I find myself asking.

"What do you mean?"

I see no point beating around the bush. "You've changed."   

His grip on the wheel tightens, and with it, the muscles in his forearms. My stomach clenches as I imagine how those strong arms would feel around me.

"I've been in this line of work for ten years now. Do you know how many times I've seen so much death in merely two days?"

My skin crawls at his words and my infatuation ebbs away. I didn't see it like that. I was so focused on how everything affects me that I didn't spare anyone's feelings a second thought. But I'm the victim. I'm the one all of this is happening to, and I want to allow myself to be the center of things for once.

All my life, my mother's words followed me. It's not about you. You are defined by your place in the world and how people see you. 

Don't be selfish, don't be unkind, don't be open. Just smile and wave as your life passes and you leave behind the impression of the perfect woman. The perfect wife, the perfect professional, and if I'd listened to my mother, the perfect mother.

I am a failure for not having children, and it renders all my other achievements null. It doesn't matter that I have a flourishing career and am respected in my field (even if not by Anika). It doesn't matter that I had a peaceful marriage to a kind man.

It was always all or nothing with her. And now, I really do have nothing. No career, no husband... Just murder and fear. The mere thought of telling her everything that happens fills me with dread. So I'm less tempted to feel for Daniel.

He's a homicide detective. This is what he does for a living.

"I'm sorry," I still say.

"You don't have to be sorry, Eva," he says. "And it's not even the blood. I've seen many bodies, some in much worse state than Anika or Steve. It's how it's happening that weighs on me."