Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
In the morning when he woke, Noelle was gone. Just as he’d known she would be.
PART TWO
He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster.
—Friedrich Nietzsche
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Seven Years Later
Evan’s phone rang as he got out of his car. He clicked the lock on his key fob as he pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Dad.
He declined the call and returned the phone to his pocket as he headed out of the garage and turned in the direction of the Italian restaurant where he was meeting Aria.
He’d call his dad back later. These days, he ignored his call more often than not. He didn’t want another lecture on how disappointed he was that Evan was squandering his opportunities. He was a twenty-seven-year-old man, and his dad still couldn’t let go of the fact that he’d dropped out of Stanford’s business program seven years before and opted instead to study criminal justice. His father had refused to pay for it, which was fine. His mother had come back with her simple platitude of whatever makes you happy is fine with me. Which really meant, I’m busy living my life with my new husband and stepchildren, and I don’t really care. So Evan had applied to a couple of state schools and then gotten a job and supported himself through all four years.
A year after he’d graduated, he opened his own private investigation firm and had not one regret.
It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t even always interesting. But it fed that part of him that had gone without justice, to find closure for a client. Even a cheating spouse, though he rarely took those types of jobs anymore, the ones that he hadn’t had the luxury of turning down in the beginning. They were mostly thankless and always depressing, and in his experience, if a spouse suspected their partner of cheating, they were.
And of course, he had his pet project, too, if that was even the right term.
He’d made several contacts at the Reno PD, who he worked with on a regular basis, and he was meeting one of them now, an officer named Aria Dixon.
The hostess smiled as he entered the small homey-feeling restaurant, but before he could let her know he was meeting someone, he saw Aria stand and wave at him from a table near the back. He raised his hand, letting Aria know he saw her, and then nodded to the hostess, who’d watched the exchange.
“Have a nice meal, sir,” the hostess said.
“Thanks.”
“Hey,” Aria said when he’d made it to the table, standing and giving him a quick hug. “It’s great to see you.”
“You too.” He took off the light coat he was wearing, hanging it on the back of the restaurant chair. “How are you?” he asked when he’d taken a seat.
Aria shrugged, her honey-blonde hair brushing her shoulders. He was more used to seeing her with her hair up and in a uniform, and it was always a little strange to see her as a civilian. Aria was about his age, with deep-green eyes and a smattering of freckles across her nose. She looked more like a pretty midwestern farm girl than a hardened cop. “You know, living the dream, as always.”
He let out a chuckle as Aria shot him a smile. He could tell by the way she looked at him sometimes that she hoped to revisit the short affair they’d had about a year ago. It’d started when they’d gone out for drinks as a group and he’d ended up back at her place. They’d hooked up a handful of times, but it’d always been casual, and eventually he’d suggested they stop because he didn’t want to further jeopardize their working relationship, and regardless, he wasn’t in a place to focus on a romance. It wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive and interesting. But he was busy building his career. She’d seemed to take it well, but he’d also noticed the quick flash of hurt in her eyes and regretted that he’d crossed that line in the first place and created tension with someone he valued as a work associate.
Because he was at a peaceful place. It’d taken a long time. Years. But he was good. He was damn good. He only woke from nightmares very occasionally. He could think about what had happened to him without breaking out in a cold sweat. He still experienced emotions relating to his victimhood, of course, but he was okay with that. He figured that should be the case. What had happened had altered him. How could it be any different? What he was finding, though, the more time passed, was that not all the change that had occurred was negative.
It had taken seven long years of healing, of on-and-off therapy, and of following the path that felt right inside his gut, to arrive at the place he was at. To risk that? In the slightest way? Well, Evan supposed he’d know when and if something, or someone, came along that made the risk worthwhile.