Chapter 31: Earth

I feel like I've stepped onto the set of some television show. It would be ridiculous, except I've come to expect the utterly unbelievable to happen in my life.

“You deserve to know the truth, but I couldn't risk talking at the station. I have a wife and kids.”

My stomach drops.

“I had only begun looking into your parents' murder when I got called into the police chief's office. He told me to close the case and focus on the rest of my case load.”

“Wait, so you just dropped it?”

He pauses. “I was young. The Chief was commanding.”

“So you did. You got handed a case with two orphans whose parents had their seatbelts cut, and you dropped it.”

He clears his throat. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“We have a lot of cases now, and we had a lot then. We don't have unlimited resources. A case like that usually takes priority. A young couple with two children die in a suspicious way? Typically we'd have diverted several detectives and any other resources necessary to close it. I don't know why we didn't. Maybe the Chief was feeling pressure to solve another case we had—an older woman was my next case, a single schoolteacher. But we ended up finding the culprit on that one pretty quickly, and we never went back to your parents. I don't know why we dropped the Bensons, but I know I never felt good about it, not for all these years.”

“Then why'd you do it?” My voice has gotten heated, and people walking by turn to look at me. I force my hands to unfold and lay flat on my thighs and I drag a few breaths in and out of my nose.

“I follow orders, little miss, even when they don't make perfect sense.” He sighs. “I'm sorry and that's why I called you back, but like I said. I got a family of my own to think about.”

He hangs up.

I understand he didn't want to risk the safety of his family just to get answers for two kids he'd never met, but it’s depressing to hear that the police gave up so easily. Maybe nothing could bring my parents back, but for the first time I wonder whether all the crap I've been through since they died might not be entirely my fault. Maybe there's something or someone else pulling the strings.

Maybe Jesse was right about one big thing—I’m beginning to doubt whether Declan Rosenbaum is a social worker at all.

Henry waves at me from the staff entrance. “Alora! You ready? Lunch hits are rolling in.”

I jump to my feet. “Sure, yes. I think so.”

The next three hours fly past. One guy yells at me for bringing him a cold steak, which was definitely not cold, but otherwise it goes pretty well. I enjoy waiting tables more than I expected, and the tips aren't bad either, especially given the limited number of tables I took. I still cleared almost a hundred bucks for three hours’ work, not including my paltry hourly wage.

When I reach the office, Henry smiles at me. “How'd it go? Frank said you did fine.”

The head chef at lunch, Frank, didn't say two words to me, so I’m happy to hear he didn’t hate me. “I liked it,” I say. “It's more interesting than washing dishes, that's for sure.”

“But harder to snack.” Henry cocks his head sideways.

My stomach rumbles, and heat rises in my cheeks. “True.”

“Want some lunch? Manager perk, I get whatever I want. Judging by how you ate last night, I'd say you're probably hungry.”

I wonder whether it's a manager perk, or a son of the owner perk, but I don't argue. “Your mom's not still here, right?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, she took off when lunch got started. She's not so awful though, I swear. If you give her half a chance, she’ll come around and you’ll like her.”

I exhale. Somehow I doubt that's true, but arguing with him about the future is probably pointless. “Then sure, I'm always hungry.”

He grins. “Great. I thought so.”

Technically, I've been eating lunch at Perry's for months now, but the difference between sneaking bites of cold leftovers and eating it fresh is transformative. “This is amazing,” I say around a mouthful of scalloped potatoes.

Henry sets his fork down. “I'm sorry I didn't pay more attention. I could’ve helped sooner.” So, probably a son of the owner perk.

I swallow. “I don't need your help, you know. My brother and I are fine on our own.”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously, we are.”

He nods. “I know you are, but I like being able to do something.” Henry has to get up a few times to answer questions and talk to various people. When he returns, I'm done eating. “Lunch shift again tomorrow?” he asks.

“I'm free for dinner tonight.” I could use the money.

“We better keep you on lunch for a few days, until I'm sure you've got the hang of it. Dinner can get pretty intense, plus today's my first day. I'm a little nervous about handling things myself.”

I shrug. “Okay, well, let me know.”

Henry leans forward like he's going to hug me, and I jump backward without thinking about it. Evasion is my go-to reaction to physical contact from anyone but Jesse.

I'm not sure how to fix the hurt look in his eyes, so I wave awkwardly and bolt out the door. I'm outside before I realize it's almost three. I've walked over to his office, but Jesse won't be done for a few hours. I could head home now, or wait for him. I'm not sure what to do, so I take a seat on the bench in front of Jesse's new job. I'm thinking about the detective's pathetic excuse to drop my parents’ case because he has his own family. What about my family, gone thanks to whoever cut those seatbelts? Why couldn't he just do his job? Why does his family matter more than mine?

“Hey, stranger.” A male voice startles me.

I glance up at John. His t-shirt says, “I spend 90% of my time GAMING. The rest of my time I just waste.” The way the shirt molds to his chest muscles, it looks like he spends the other ten percent of his time at the gym. Not a total waste. . .

I stand up so he's not looking down at me. “I'm not sure J will be able to handle your strict dress code over there.”

He grins. “His boss is a real stickler for dressing to impress.”

“How do you have your own company at the age of thirty?”

John grabs his chest like I’ve shot him. “Ouch. Thirty? Really?”

I can’t quite keep back my smile. I was just being mean. “Fine, twenty-five.”

“Try almost twenty-one.”

“So you can’t even drink yet, but you’ve got your own startup.”

He ignores my barbed comment. “I’m headed over to get some tacos. Hungry?”

“Tacos again?” I feel like I’m always smiling around him. “Also, it's like three o'clock. You must’ve lost track of time testing a video game.”

John looks down. “Actually. . .”

I snort, which isn’t very becoming, but. . .I think a gamer nerd might forgive me. “So you’re twenty years old, and you forgot to eat lunch because you were too busy sitting on a couch, playing video games. . .at work.” I sigh. “J’s going to be back to cutting lawns any day now, isn’t he?”

“Actually, your brother fixed a big glitch this morning, and now our alien invasion game is running perfectly. So perfectly that we lost track of time.”

Of course they did. I'm sure Jesse's loving it—getting paid to play.

Until their funding runs dry.

“Oh, come on. You know you want to try the tacos that your brother liked so much he begged for them again today.”

They may say food is the way to a man’s heart, but it’s apparently also the way to mine, and every guy in my life knows it. “Fine. I’ll walk over with you, anyway.”

“You coming to keep me company, or are you hungry?” His gaze rakes downward. “Because you look like you’ve been skipping too many meals. I’m happy to grab some extra tacos.”

I just ate an enormous steak, potatoes and broccoli, and half a basket of bread, but I've got $95 in my pocket. I can afford a taco—I don’t need his charity. “The first thing you should know about me—I’m always ravenous. You'll have to tell me what's good.”