Conflict of Interest

Chapter Twenty Nine

Kim 

My dearest Anneliese

Will you consent to see me soon? Things are going well, yet my condition is worsening by the day. At least, that's what I'm told. I've been successful in fighting it off this long, but I fear my luck may be running out, and yours as well.

Have you spoken to the family? Father is doing very well, and says his work has really picked up in the last couple of weeks. I'm glad to see what he will do. As for the distant relatives, we have not spoken in some time, but I imagine things are slow as ever. You know how these things go, however, Ana.

All I need from you is to stay strong for me. You've done so much for me already in the past two years; now, just keep yourself calm and at peace.

Collin

I carefully refolded the letter, sure not to leave a crease where there previously wasn't. Sliding it back into its envelope and the envelope back into its compartment, I shivered.

Just when you think you shut a window, about a thousand doors come flying open. Not exactly how the saying goes, but that was how it seemed to happen in investigation. 

The first feeling was infuriation: with him, with Anneliese, with myself. The notion that she was maintaining contact with him alone had been enough. He'd attacked her, victimized her, trapped her in an abusive marriage for years, I'd given her a way out, I'd devoted my life to getting hers back on track, and as soon as the situation was remedied, I learned, she'd gone crawling back. But it wasn't just that. She was writing him letters. She was seeing him. You've done so much for me already in the past two years. She was doing him favors. For him, her attacker. Where had she gone wrong? Where had I gone wrong?

I exited the mail room silently, not knowing what to do, or how, if at all, that invasion of privacy had aided my investigation. I found Carrie not too far away, who just looked at me challengingly, to which I just shrugged and asked if she was ready to go. The drive home was glaringly uncomfortable as it became painfully obvious that the only thing  either of us wanted to discuss was the contents of the letter. But as strongly as Carrie had sworn off getting involved, I had sworn off disobeying her commands. At least when it came to investigations. Why did she always seem to know what was best, anyway?

"I think he's dying," I finally said quietly.

"Who?" she asked absently, dead set on inspecting her fingernails in the passenger seat.

"Shaw."

She sighed. "Kim."

"Okay, letter aside. I know we're not discussing the letter."

"No, we're not."

"I mean, in person. Didn't he just seem..."

"Orange?"

"Carrie."

"I'm sorry, Kim, it's just a little bit difficult to drum up a whole lot of sympathy for him."

"No one used the word sympathy," I reminded her. "I used the word dying."

"Okay, fine," she relented. "I guess he looked a little dying. And?"

"Nothing," I said. "I'm just saying."

"I hope he is dying."

"Carrie," I repeated.

"A man who victimizes women," she began in her own defense.

"I know," I cut her off.

"No," she cut right back. "A man who victimizes women is the lowest form of life, and I'm not going to go soft on Collin Shaw now."