let out a sound that was half laugh, but mostly groan. “God, this woman, one look and she . . . flattens me.”
Zach grimaced, though there was amusement in his eyes. “Shit,” he said, the grimace fading. “Yeah.” He said that as though he knew exactly what Reed was talking about, and Reed supposed he did. He shook his head, a look of understanding taking over his expression. “Basically, kid, you’re done for. I wish I had better news.”
Reed let out another pained chuckle that faded quickly. “What if I’m not . . .” Reed expelled a breath, looking down as he ran a hand through his hair. He looked back up at Zach. “What if I’m not up to the challenge?” What if I’m not the right person for her? The man she needs?
“Who better than you?” Zach asked softly, solemnly, a world of depth in his dark gaze.
Reed took in his meaning, felt it settle inside him. Who better? Who better than the son of a woman who had shown him firsthand exactly what it meant to overcome? A woman who’d convinced him anything was possible, because she was a living example of the will of the human spirit to rise. Who better to recognize that same spirit in another and help her see it in herself?
“I will say this, though,” Zach added. “Whoever this woman is, whatever her fight and whatever she faces it with, you’ll have to let her come to you. She’ll need that, and you will too, Reed. You can fight with her, but you can’t fight for her.”
Reed blew out a breath. Yeah, he’d had an instinct about that. And Zach had confirmed it. It was the reason he’d left her hotel room when she’d told him to go. He’d thought an awful lot about Liza and what might be best for her, but from a purely selfish standpoint, he acknowledged that if anything was going to happen between them, he’d need to know it was her decision as well as his. He’d need that. A weight lifted, not because anything had been solved necessarily, but because he’d done what he could as far as he and Liza went. If anything was going to progress, she needed to make that move. It was out of his hands. “Thanks, Zach,” he said, and he hoped the simple words conveyed how much.
“Anytime.”
Reed stood up, moving toward the door when Zach called, “Hey, I almost forgot, did you see WLWT’s morning news?”
Reed turned, his stomach sinking with the feeling he was not going to like what Zach was about to tell him. “Why?” He’d been trying to avoid the news for the past few days, the constant calls, the reporters hanging around outside the building where the city’s detectives worked. They’d inspired hundreds of calls and tips from the public, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing if it amounted to something. But so far, all it’d accomplished was detectives being taken off the case so they could go on wild goose chases. It’d slowed them down to a significant degree, and they couldn’t afford that right now.
Zach tapped the computer on the side of his desk, indicating the website of the popular local news station, Reed assumed. “They’re dubbing our guy, The Hollow-Eyed Killer.”
The Hollow-Eyed Killer? Great. Nice and spooky. Just the kind of press a sicko with delusions of grandeur would appreciate. “Awesome,” Reed sighed.
Zach’s chuckle was short-lived. “Yeah, I thought you’d like that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Liza turned the corner, coming up short as she almost collided into someone, jerking her coffee back and barely maneuvering her body so the coffee in her hand didn’t slosh onto her pale gray sweater. “Oh, I’m so sorry—” Her words cut off when she saw who it was. Chad.
Liza stepped around him, continuing toward her office.
“Liza, wait,” Chad said, hurrying to catch up to her. “Listen—"
“Stay away from me, Dr. Headley,” she said quietly but with her teeth gritted as she picked up her pace.
“You’re mad. I can understand why, but you have to see—”
She halted, turning toward him as he, too, came up short. “You had no right. No right to share my personal information with anyone. I trusted you, and you betrayed that trust.”
To his benefit, he appeared at least mildly ashamed. “I was concerned about you and let it get the better of me. It won’t happen again.”
“No,” Liza said. “It won’t.” She turned and walked the few steps to her office, closing the door behind her.