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“Thank you, James. You really don’t know how much I needed to hear that.” I say, gently bumping his shoulder.
Stepping into the restaurant, we’re quickly seated at a table by the window. I watch intently as amazing burgers are carried through to different tables, catching me following their journey. James lets out a small chuckle, causing my gaze to move to his.
“Hungry?” He asks, quirking a brow. Right on cue, my stomach grumbles.
As the slight blush creeps over my cheeks, I nod.
“I guess I’ve been skipping meals.”
James blinks and looks away. When he turns back to me, his face is sombre and full of concern.
“I heard about Detective Strode Summer. I’m so sorry about that.” Letting out a heavy sigh as he continues. “Do you know if he’s ok?”
I shake my head no. But James leans in a little closer, lowering his voice. I feel myself lean in, too.
“What happened?”
Scratching my forehead, I briefly look out the window, trying to piece the evening back together without giving too much away. Remembering the gunshots and screams that flood the dark street, followed by the pool of blood I lay in while screaming for help. I try to shrug off the cries and pleads for help as I applied pressure to the wounds on Detective Strode. Shrugging slightly, I turn back to James who holds my gaze without blinking.
“I got into the passenger side of the car, and then all of a sudden, a car passed and started firing. I threw myself across the seats, my head in my hands as the endless bullets seemed to rain down over us.” Swallowing hard, I continue. “Once they stopped, I think the car sped off. I remember hearing tyres screeching. When I threw open the car door, I fell into the road and landed in the blood. I knew it wasn’t good.” Wiping away a single tear, James places his hand over mine.
“Did the police take your statement?”
“Yes, I stupidly ran away from the hospital. I just couldn’t be there; I went home and just stayed. The pissed-off detective eventually tracked me down and took the statement, but I didn’t see anything of any use. It all happened so quickly.”
James listens intently, but the warmth momentarily leaves his face. For a second, I almost feel like I’m being subtly interrogated. He clearly notices this and smiles, but it’s forced this time, and I shift uncomfortably under his gaze.
“Sorry, Summer.” He leans back in his chair, running a hand across his face. “I spent so many years prepping clients for trial, I’ve forgotten how to have a normal conversation with someone that doesn’t end with me pulling answers from them.”
“You were a prosecutor?” I ask, a little surprised by his comment.
“Once upon a time yeah.” Hearing the relief in his voice, I’m unsure whether to ask why he changed his career path.
“What made you change?” I ask curiously, realizing my mouth engaged before my brain.
“I found that sometimes, no matter how hard you work to seek justice that sometimes the law isn’t on your side. I realized there are just some truly bad people in the world that should never be allowed back onto the streets. I just couldn’t carry on; it weighed too heavily on my moral compass, so I decided to leave.” There’s a solemness in James’s words, unsure whether I want to ask more questions. After a moment, I decide against it, nodding my head in agreement I strangely understand what he means.
Studying James’s face, I see that his features are sharp, and he has a strong jaw. But after his brief declaration, I can see how his previous job has taken a toll on him. On closer inspection, he looks tired and worn out, as though he’s carried the world on his shoulders for a long time. I suppose a high-pressure job like that can do that to you, along with the long days and late nights.
The waitress eventually passes by and takes our order. Clearly, we’re both starving and end up ordering the same thing. The conversation falls onto the funeral as a cold shudder rolls over me. Every now and then, the news of my dad’s passing hits me like a runaway train; it’s as though my mind is aware, but my heart is playing catch up all the time. But it’s his murder that leaves me angry and fearful, with detective Strode in the hospital and Bhodi seems to have his mind elsewhere, I worry that it’ll never get solved, and I’ll never know why someone could be some heartless to a kind and loving man who never did a bad thing in his life.
Saying our goodbye’s, James and I part ways. As he disappears out of sight, I feel my confidence falter a little as the afternoon sky appears to darken. Understanding I’m still in an unknown city, I opt for a taxi back home instead of the walk. I seem to walk into bad choices and regrettable decisions permanently, so maybe the walk home isn’t a bright choice for me.
After the short drive home, I step into reception as the concierge nods to me. Offering a polite smile, I don’t stop until I reach the elevator and the doors open immediately. Allowing me to step inside and hit the penthouse button, I feel my body sag against the mirror as my eyes watch the passing floor numbers. When the doors finally open, I reach the front door and punch in the new code, silently thanking Two/Face for his awareness, even though I’d never fucking admit to it.
Pushing open the front door, I see that the apartment, like always, is dark. Locking the door behind me, I place my purse on the side table and allow my back to fall against the solid wood. When my head falls back, I take a deep inhale.
Oh shit…
As the adrenaline begins to pump through my body, my head snaps straight ahead to the living room as the end of a cigarette lights up, the smell wafting through the hall.
“Welcome home, Summer. Have a nice day?”
His words drip with a devilish sarcasm. I watch as the end of the cigarette lights up once again, but I can’t move my feet. My brain is screaming to fucking run. If I run now, I’ll likely get to the elevator in time, but I don’t. Instead, I feel my body being pulled towards the dark reaper, walking into his darkness, and I do so without question.
Chapter Sixteen
Two/face??
