I glance at the time on my phone and decide to hop in the shower. It’s almost five and I haven’t left this room yet today.
While I’m washing my hair my mind shifts gears from Caleb to S’belle. I can’t stop thinking about how she looked at me the other night. She had such disgust in her eyes. Fuuuuck! I slam my hand against the glass and the door pops out of the track. What is it about that girl that constantly has me thinking about her? I turn the water off and stand there, letting water drip down my body. When I step out, all I know is that with all the bad ties between us, it’s better our conversation never went any further. Besides, I only fuck up everything I touch.
I know I need to get out and clear my head. So I quickly get dressed and head over to Beck’s.
When I enter I see him on the phone arguing with someone. He hangs up and heads over my way. He slams a mug on the counter and I put my hand out. “How about a cup of coffee?”
He laughs. “Haven’t ever seen you turn down a beer.”
I ignore his comment. “Everything okay?”
He shakes his head. “Ruby’s fucking ex is giving her a real hard time.”
“What do you mean? I thought he moved out.”
“He did, but he keeps showing up at the apartment, at work. I called the cops and they say there’s nothing they can do unless he poses a threat.”
“Has he done anything threatening?”
“No, but something about him tells me he’s off balance.”
“My ex-brother-in-law used to work this beat. Let me see if he can help out at all.”
“Fuck, man, that would be great.”
A little while later I leave the bar sober and feeling like maybe a small part of my life is coming together.
***
The next morning I have to shade my eyes against the sun’s glare in the room as I roll over to pick up my cell phone and see who’s calling. Irritation flares through me as Agent Bass’s name flashes across the screen.
“Yeah,” I answer, as I sit up.
“Ben, it’s Agent Bass. We were wondering if you could come down to the bureau this morning. Josh Hart’s trial concluded yesterday and I’d like to fill you in.”
I throw myself back on the bed trying to process what she just said. “Ummm . . . yeah, sure but I was never called to testify.”
“I’ll explain when you get here.”
“I just have to swing by the office and then I’ll head over.”
I hang up. Fuck, what the hell is going on? Why is Hart’s trial concluding already? And why hasn’t the drug cartel’s trial even begun? I can’t stand being left in the dark. All I know is that I am to stay put until all of the legal proceedings across these multiple cases are complete.
Last night I called Jason to ask him if he could help me out with Ruby’s situation. He said it was no problem. He had a buddy still on the force who he’d talk to. I was actually surprised that he agreed so quickly. But when I asked him what he knew about the data on the flash drive, he told me he had no idea what I was talking about. I’m going to throw it all on table today when I meet with Bass. Like I said, I hate being left in the fucking dark.
Before getting up, I roll over and grab my journal from the nightstand. I quickly flip to the entry made on March third, three years ago—that’s today, the anniversary of my death. Quickly skimming over those painful thoughts, I find an entry that was made much later—the day I learned Dahl had been attacked.
***