Two months had passed and Eric still hadn't told me he loved me. This was making me feel insecure and weary. I didn't want to demand that from him—after all, I already knew he felt something beyond the raw, animal attraction he showed during the times we were together. Yet, for the past week, I hadn't let him touch me, frustrated as I was.
I was officially living at his house now, but I made a point to help with everything. Lucy was a good girl, and I was dedicated to teaching her how to read whenever I had the time.
— "Daydreaming again?!" — I heard as I entered the department's break room. I had a headache and couldn't imagine why—perhaps it was the lack of intimacy. Eric was in a bad mood; I was certain it was because I'd been rejecting him, though he denied it.
— "Yeah. I've got a headache." — I said, exasperated. He came closer and ran his fingers through my hair. I eyed him suspiciously, but it seemed he wasn't about to make any suspicious moves.
— "The chief wants to see us." — He said, heading toward the office. I followed without much interest. Lately, we'd only been handling minor cases—nothing extraordinary seemed to happen in this city.
Our chief was a man around forty, with graying hair. He was tall and strong but carried a mature charm. Johan Erihenn had solved complex cases years ago, which had earned him the position he always wanted. I admired him greatly. He was a widower, with two married daughters. Eric and Johan had been friends forever.
— "You took your time." — The man gritted his teeth, just as moody as Félix. — "I have a case. Mrs. Katherine Greenfield's husband has been missing for a few days. The militia couldn't figure out anything, so now it's our responsibility to find him."
Eric's posture changed the moment he heard the woman's name—from a sullen expression to one filled with concern. Did he know the missing man?
— "I'm giving this case to you, Félix, since Mrs. Greenfield is someone you know. Maybe you can do something. Here's the address." — Erihenn handed him a paper, which he stared at for a long moment, then tucked into his pocket.
Eric just nodded. I followed behind him, waiting for any plausible explanation, but none came. Not even when we got in the carriage. Interesting... was I to be part of a case without any information?
— "Who is she?" — I asked, trying to keep my tone as neutral as my voice would allow, but I didn't quite succeed.
— "Katherine Greenfield." — His voice was cold. That wasn't the kind of answer I wanted. I knew it wasn't worth provoking him further since he clearly didn't want to talk. But I was starting to get irritated. We were almost at the woman's house, and I still had no meaningful answers.
— "Seriously? Félix, she's obviously more than just that. What does she mean to you and—"
— "Is that all you think about? Her husband is missing, and all you care about is getting answers to your selfish doubts." — His patience had reached its limit. I couldn't believe he spoke to me like that. I turned my face away and noticed it was one of the rare days without rain, though the sky was still overcast. If you told me you loved me, I wouldn't feel so insecure. I huffed angrily and got out of the carriage as soon as it stopped. Eric sighed beside me. He probably knew he'd messed up. I wanted to ask about the case, but the question had come out all wrong. Still, he didn't need to respond with such coldness.
When we knocked on the door and the woman opened it, I'd hoped she'd be old, wrinkled, and unattractive. But instead, she seemed young, dressed in black except for a moss-green scarf in her hand. Her honey-colored eyes were red from crying. I think that even if she were the opposite of what she appeared, I'd still feel bothered by the level of importance Eric seemed to place on her.
— "Eric, thank God." — She said, her voice raw and hoarse, hugging my partner without hesitation, resting her head against his chest. He didn't push her away; on the contrary, he wrapped his arms around her robust body, with its generous curves. Her brown hair was braided. An irritating perfume lingered.
— "Come in, please." — She said, pulling away from his arms and making room for us to pass. I was so jealous; my head throbbed with pain. I clenched my fists tightly—this feeling was new and selfish. I didn't like how she called Félix with such intimacy. I knew I was being petty; the woman was fragile and sensitive. I took a deep breath to compose myself. Her husband was probably dead; she needed all the comfort she could get from those close to her.
— "I'm Blauth, Nathan Blauth, nice to meet you." — I said, forcing a smile. She merely nodded, unimpressed by my attempt at courtesy. Despite her pain, she could've been at least a bit more polite.
— "How did this happen, Katherine?" — Now he addressed her intimately, which annoyed me greatly. I had to control myself; I couldn't act childish in such a situation.
— "He... he went out as usual, to the barber, then to the factory to inspect the workers, and by nightfall he'd return home. It's been a week now." — She brought the scarf to her face as if to hide her tear-swollen features.
— "I understand. We'll try to retrace his steps and find whoever did this." — He said, determined, trying to give her confidence. She only smiled sadly.
— "I heard he received an inheritance from family living in the British countryside." — I cut in, shattering the tragic romantic atmosphere. Taylor had kept me informed about some characteristics of Mr. Greenfield, like his fondness for games and other pastimes. They both looked at me, puzzled by my interruption. — "Did he have enemies or anyone who might've known about the money? That could've been the motive."
— "Oh no, I don't know if John told anyone about the money. Enemies? John was a sweetheart, he had no enemies." — The woman seemed lost in nostalgia, offering a sad smile, then looking back at Eric as if he were her only hope. I took another deep breath and stood up.
— "Shall we?" — I was pushing the situation. Eric was standing when the woman grabbed his arm. I clenched my fists again, though by that point, I considered myself fairly composed.
— "Stay a little longer, Eric. I'd like to talk to you... Can't your subordinate go ahead?" — Did this woman just call me a subordinate?! I thought as I glanced at her face. She didn't even look at me; she seemed sad and craving attention. I hoped Eric would realize we had more important things to do.
— "He's my partner." — Eric said casually, which offended me. We were lovers, though she didn't need to know that, right? I didn't think we should tell everyone about our relationship; most people wouldn't understand. Many might desire it, but no one had the courage to speak openly about their sexuality, especially when it could get us killed. But being treated like that left a bitter taste in my mouth. — "It's fine. Blauth, go ahead, investigate the barbershop first and get some statements."
I looked at him in disbelief. Félix was putting work second? I said nothing; what was I supposed to say? I don't want you to stay with her because I'm jealous? They clearly shared something. But if Félix didn't want to talk, I wouldn't force him. I was being selfish, but I had the right to feel jealous.
When I got to the barbershop, the owner said the victim had acted normally, like every other day. At the factory where he worked as a manager, Greenfield clocked out at his usual time, so the crime likely occurred while he was heading home. I collected some statements from nearby streets, but nothing significant. When I returned to the department, my headache worsened, so I went to the break room. It was night, and that damned Eric still hadn't come back.
— "Careful." — I accidentally bumped into someone. It was a tall man with strong features and a handsome, masculine face, neatly trimmed beard, and a cynical smile that revealed dimples in his cheeks. His dark hair and deep blue eyes reminded me of the sea. I got lost for a moment but quickly pulled away when I realized his hand was on my waist.
— "Sorry... Who are you?" — I asked, straightening up.
— "Jean Desnki, investigator from the central sector. I'm here with my partner to investigate the series of murders in this area, so I'll be around for a while." — His slightly husky voice matched his demeanor.
— "I'm Nathan Blauth." — I smiled faintly, not really feeling up to chatting, though curious about the case he was working on.
— "Oh, Eric's partner. Nice to meet you. Must be tough working with that grump." — He laughed amiably. I couldn't help but smile a bit more.
— "Yeah." — I said, despite remembering the complicated situation I was in.
— "The smile suits you better, Blauth." — That made me feel a bit shy, but before I could respond, a guy about my height appeared, seeming around my age, though different—there was no way to read his indifferent expression. His short, spiky black hair and honey-colored eyes stood out.
— "We have to go, Desnki." — The boy said without even greeting me, leaving immediately.
— "Sorry about Watson. Thomas tends to be like that, he's quite shy and ends up being antisocial." — He waved a brief goodbye and left, following the indifferent boy. I sighed and sank into the couch. We'd have new people around now. Maybe I should leave Eric and dive into a passionate romance... Who am I kidding? I love that idiot, and my head is about to explode.
I went to the infirmary and collapsed onto the bed without even taking off my shoes.
I was tied up, completely naked, surrounded by darkness. I realized there was a blindfold over my eyes, and I couldn't open my mouth—presumably gagged. The metallic taste in my mouth reminded me of blood.
— "Did you think you could escape me?" — The voice was hypnotic and sensual. I knew who it belonged to. Gran Fort was dead and shouldn't haunt my dreams. I felt his hand on my skin—it burned like fire, stinging my pride, yet filling me with dangerous longing. His touch in my hair was terrifying... it felt so real.
I woke up with a start as I felt someone's hand in my hair. I struck out instinctively, knocking it away. I saw Eric staring at me in surprise. I sat up, panting. He touched my head again.
— "Nightmare?" — He asked, concerned. I hadn't told anyone, but I'd been having dreams like this ever since I caused William's death. I kept wondering if it was my fault.
— "Yeah..." — I sighed. At least the headache was gone.
— "Does this happen often? You looked terrified." — Félix sat beside me, looking so worried that I almost forgot who he had spent the afternoon with. I felt a bit abandoned after everything.
— "No, first time." — I lied. I didn't want to talk about it. I was annoyed with him. — "About the case..." — I changed the subject before he could press further, telling him how my visits to Greenfield's usual places had gone, and suggesting he might have been attacked on his way home.
— "Excuse me." — Desnki entered the room with his expressionless partner. — "Can we talk, Félix?"
— "Now?" — He looked at me significantly. I just nodded—it was fine. Eric was about to stand when Desnki gestured that he could stay seated.
— "It's fine to talk in front of Blauth. I think it's better that your partner knows." — Desnki's cynical smile faded, replaced by a more serious demeanor. I straightened up, paying close attention. I had a bad feeling about this, especially since Eric seemed to be the focus.
— "I've been called to investigate the serial murders of women, usually pregnant or prostitutes. There've been four victims already." — His voice was measured, pausing as Eric's eyes widened, his fists clenching so tightly his knuckles turned white. — "The case from ten years ago... is happening again."