Jackson lives in a small town of Montrose his whole life. After several bodies are found in the area, the police come to a conclusion that a serial killer is on the loose. The investigation has drawn the attention of the FBI, and their team soon put...
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I find her sitting on the closed toilet seat, wearing a bathrobe, her hair wet. She's obviously done with her shower but the water is still running, so I shut it off. She's watching me but otherwise, doesn't move save for her nervously tapping a foot. I crouch down in front of her and still the moving leg with my hand. I move my head to catch her eyes trying to guess her mood. Her pupils are big, eyes wide but I can't tell the emotion behind them.
"Hey, you know he's just talking shit, right? He always does, it doesn't mean anything, he doesn't actually think you did it. He just came here hot-headed." I rub her leg up and down.
Her hand finds mine on her thigh, gripping it tightly. "Yeah." Still looking into her eyes I lift my other hand to rest it on the nape of her neck. I don't think I really did anything wrong, but I still feel relieved that she's talking to me. I wanna keep her going so I say so as I start to caress her with my thumb through her hair.
"Go on, what's on your mind?"
She takes a deep breath and lets it out. "You know, I actually understand why he's so agitated about it. There is a person missing, so of course, he doesn't want to be connected to it in any way. That's why I lied to the cops about it in a first place. But the way he came on to me, it was out of nowhere. He could just ask you know, like really ask, not make me feel like he's about to pull my fingernails out." She looks like she has more to say, but in the end, decided to keep it to herself.
"I know and I told him as much."
Looking down at our entangled hands, she clears her throat. "There is this other thing I just have a hard time to get used to."
"What?" I press on.
"Him, saying these weird things and innuendos every time I see him. I have a hard time taking it as a joke. With the way he treats women, I just don't find it funny. And to be honest, I don't believe he's really joking half the time," she whispers the last part as if he could magically hear her from the kitchen.
"He is joking. At least where you are concerned, he is. I think he actually has a soft spot for you. I know after today it can come hard to believe, but trust me, you'd feel it if he hadn't. You won't see him nursing any other drunken girls without the prospect of fucking, that's for sure."
She makes a face but doesn't comment on that. "So what do I do? I'm clueless here."
"Do what I do, tell him to go fuck himself and pretend that he never said anything." She shakes her head but before she has a chance to object I add. "Or just stick with the pretending, I'll take care of the rest. Now come on, get dressed, we need figure what to do about the other thing." I stand up and tug on her hand to get her to move too, but she doesn't budge.
"I don't wanna. Can't you just tell him I'm tired and that we can talk some other time?" she asks while fluttering her eyelashes at me in the same way she did before, in my room. She's trying to laugh it off, but I can tell she's just nervous so I squat back down.
