a workaholic like me. He cusses under his breath when he’s pissed and likes beer on easy days. Jack and Coke when he wants to think about something that’s bothering him. He always says it’s a case. He lives for his job with the FBI and I get it.
My first real job was with the FBI, although not as an agent. I was only a lawyer working the cases with them. Cody was the knight in shining armor, willing to do whatever it took. Last one to call it a night and the first one to gather us in the morning.
Brutal tasks require brutal men. To this day I don’t know what makes Cody the man he is, only that I want to know his secrets. I want him to trust me enough to do so.
“You don’t have to stop. I want to know.” Laying my forearms on the table and leaning forward so I’m closer to him, I add, “You can tell me.” I’m vaguely aware of a couple nearby gathering their things and leaving. The sound of clinking from glasses being collected fades as I fall into Cody’s light blue gaze.
It swirls with an intensity, but deep inside the shades of silver and cobalt are secrets locked away, rattling behind the bars where he holds them hostage.
“What happened to him? You never did tell me the story. All I know is that you two were split up and he passed a little while later.”
“It was years, not a little while. I went with my uncle; he went to my aunt when our parents died.” When he told me the two of them were split up, I assumed his mother and father had split. I didn’t know they split after.
“That’s rough,” I barely speak, feeling a tingle of unease run through me. “It must be difficult to be separated like that… especially after losing your parents,” I offer even though my voice is tight.
“We were never close.” Cody’s response isn’t spoken coldly, but it strikes me still. “He was years younger than me. He was only a kid,” he repeats the last statement in a whisper, finding refuge in his beer and I get the impression that the conversation has come to a halt until he speaks again, surprising me.
“It was a group of three men. They kidnapped and murdered those kids. Fed their remains to the dogs. The one who lived told the cops they had to watch it all. They saw everything happen to the kid before them. One at a time as they huddled together in the cell and were forced to watch.”
“That’s sadistic,” I respond and I don’t know how I’m able to even speak.
“They got off on scaring them,” he responds and his tone is harsh.
“They got them though, right?” Please tell me they got the bastards.
“You could say that. They’re all dead. It never went to a trial.”
How did they die? The question is right there, but that’s not the one I ask. “You were how old?”
“I was twelve. My brother was eight. We were split three years before.”
“I’m sorry.”
“One of the kids they abducted when they took my brother survived. The one who lived said my brother died only hours before the police got there.”
My heart pounds in agony. “So that’s why you do this?”
“Yeah,” he says and pretends like he’s tired, and that’s why he rubs his face down with one masculine hand before looking away.
“You want to tell me your sob story now?” Cody asks and he makes fun of himself, trying to downplay it all, but I see right through him and I love what I see there.
I answer his question with one of my own, “You want to get out of here?”
Marcus
I was correct in my assumption that Delilah would call the front desk and then call the local floral shop when she received the roses. Both of which would give her nothing. I was right about her not telling Walsh as well, beyond asking if they came from him.
With the pad of my thumb running down the stubble along my jaw, I wonder if she would have told him had she not been in the position she was in. If the stress of that article and her family dynamic didn’t make her so tense and she was more clearheaded.
I can practically hear her laugh as the waitress gives her another glass of white wine. I’m not sure what Sandy told my Delilah, but it brings a glimmer