Chapter 55
[Claire's POV]
Marcus hung up the phone with a sharp motion, his face still pale from whatever he'd just heard. The intimate atmosphere that had been building between us evaporated instantly, replaced by something cold and frightening.
"Very bad news," he said grimly, reaching for his shirt.
All the heat and desire that had been coursing through my body just moments before suddenly drained away, leaving me feeling oddly empty and exposed. I pulled the hotel comforter up to cover myself, no longer feeling playful or seductive.
"What news?" I asked, my voice smaller than I intended.
Marcus was already pulling his shirt on, his movements sharp and efficient. "James—the guy who killed two people at the underground club—he escaped during transport to the state prison."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "What?" I sat up straighter, clutching the comforter tighter. "How could he escape? When did this happen?"
"Monday," Marcus said, his voice tight with anger. "The transport officers tried to cover their asses instead of reporting it immediately. The whole thing only came to light this afternoon when the prison called asking why the transfer was delayed."
I felt a chill run down my spine that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. "Monday? That was four days ago. He could be anywhere by now."
"FBI's already been called in since this involves a federal fugitive crossing state lines. Internal Affairs is launching a full investigation into the officers involved." Marcus was tucking his shirt in now, transforming from the passionate man who'd been touching me minutes ago back into Detective Reid. "This is a complete clusterfuck."
I watched him dress, feeling strangely disconnected from the situation. Part of me wanted to reach out, to pull him back to bed and pretend this phone call had never happened. But a larger part was genuinely worried about what this meant.
"So what happens now with James?" I asked. "Is there a way to track him down? I mean, I know he killed people, but when I saw him that night, he didn't seem like... I still believe he's the same kind boy I knew when we were kids."
Marcus paused in putting on his jacket to look at me directly. "Claire, you can't judge people by who they used to be. People change. Sometimes they change in ways that make them dangerous."
The certainty in his voice unsettled me. I wanted to argue, to insist that I'd seen something redeemable in James that night at the club, but the words wouldn't come.
"So you're going back to the station now?" I asked instead.
Marcus nodded, already reaching for his keys. "As the head of the Homicide Division, when something this serious happens, I can't exactly call in sick. FBI's sending a fugitive apprehension team, and we need to coordinate with them fully. Every resource we have goes toward finding Lewis before he has a chance to hurt anyone else."
He was already moving toward the door, his mind clearly focused on the crisis at hand.
"Alright," I said quietly, watching him go. "Be careful."
He paused at the door, looking back at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "You too. Keep your doors locked and don't go anywhere alone until we have Lewis back in custody."
And then he was gone, leaving me alone in the hotel room with nothing but the lingering scent of his cologne and the memory of what had almost happened between us.
I slumped back against the pillows, letting out a long breath. The sexual tension that had been building in my body dissipated completely, replaced by a strange mixture of frustration and anxiety. The alcohol was still in my system, but my head felt much clearer now, as if the shock of the news had burned through some of the wine's effects.
I closed my eyes and tried to process what had just happened—both the interrupted intimacy with Marcus and the terrifying news about James. It felt surreal, like my brain couldn't quite reconcile the two experiences happening so close together.
My phone rang, startling me out of my thoughts. Samantha's name appeared on the screen.
"Hello?" I answered, still feeling slightly disoriented.
"Claire, where are you?" Samantha's voice was urgent, more worried than I'd heard her in a while. "I need to know you're safe."
"I'm fine," I said automatically. "I had too much to drink, so I'm staying at a hotel tonight."
"Which hotel? Are you alone?"
I hesitated for a moment, not sure how much I wanted to share. "Marcus brought me here after we went to the bar. He just left, though."
There was a pause on the other end. "He left you there by yourself? After you'd been drinking?"
"It's not like that," I said quickly. "He got called away on an emergency. Some kind of crisis at work." I looked around the upscale hotel room, taking in the elegant furnishings and the city view through the large windows. "Besides, this place looks pretty high-end. Security should be fine."
"Okay," Samantha said, though she still sounded concerned. "Just... stay in the room, alright? Don't go wandering around."
"I'm not going anywhere," I assured her. "I'm probably going to fall asleep soon anyway."
We said our goodbyes and hung up, leaving me alone again with my thoughts. I tried to settle back into the pillows, hoping sleep would come easily, but my mind was too active. The combination of alcohol, interrupted passion, and disturbing news had left me wired in an uncomfortable way.
Eventually, I gave up on trying to sleep and reached for my phone again. I opened the browser and navigated to the Silverwood local news forum—a habit I'd developed over the past few weeks as I'd become more involved in the city's criminal investigations.
The first thing I saw made my stomach drop. The top post, with dozens of comments and shares, was titled: "MISSING PERSON ALERT: Local Student Vanishes from Swan Lake Forest Park."
I clicked on the thread and found myself staring at a missing person poster for a young woman I didn't recognize. The post described how she'd gone hiking alone in the forest park three days ago and never returned. Her abandoned car had been found in the parking area, but there was no sign of what had happened to her.
"Jesus," I muttered to myself, scrolling through the increasingly panicked comments from other students and local residents. "What is it with this city lately?"