Not What it Seems by Nicky James

Eighteen

Cyrus

I was in way over my head. I was screwed. Something inside me was most assuredly broken. Why couldn’t I force my brain to understand the reality of the situation? Why did it insist on believing differently?

Why couldn’t I be like other men?

River cradled me in his arms, his warm, sweat-slicked body beneath me. I listened to his heart slowly calm under my ear as I lay on his chest.

Naked.

After what I could only describe as a passionate session of making love.

But I was a fool.

That wasn’t what it was at all, and my mind was playing tricks on me again.

It was not what it seemed.

It was sex.

Just sex.

“Tell me about the phone call.” River’s voice rumbled, low and deep, like he was drifting off to sleep.

The phone call. I snapped to attention, lifting my head, staring into River’s eyes. “He was reluctant to talk at first. He said he wasn’t at liberty to discuss the autopsy of Bianca Rolland, but what he found set off alarm bells because of me.”

“The homeless girls.”

“I was right. I knew it. They both died from asphyxiation. They drowned in bleach. He said after he’d made certain discoveries while performing the autopsy on Bianca, he mentioned to the detectives involved that the two girls presently in his morgue had suspiciously similar markings on their lips and inside their mouths. He was convincing enough, someone pushed for autopsies on them.”

“Bingo.”

“Yes, bingo.”

“So they know I didn’t do it.”

My shoulders slumped, and I shook my head. “They queried Dr. Brady. He told them his estimated time of death, but despite the timeline not matching, the detectives didn’t sound convinced you weren’t responsible.”

“Fuck that. Are you serious? Are they stupid? How could I have killed two girls while locked up?”

“Dr. Brady wasn’t privy to those answers. But there’s bad news.”

“You mean more bad news?”

“He told them I was in there asking about those girls. He told them I’d had a look at them and was questioning the marks on their faces, that I was the one who brought it to his attention.”

River’s gaze shifted. He stared at something I couldn’t see as his forehead scrunched. “Okay… that’s bad, but you’d already called the police about those girls, so it can’t be a huge surprise to them. You suspected their deaths weren’t straightforward, and you brought your suspicions to them. They didn’t listen, but you were right.”

My belly quivered. “I think they’re going to start suspecting that it was me that broke you out of the hospital. I mean, if they didn’t already. Plus, they know I didn’t return to St. Catherines. They were at my office. They want your files before the end of the day.”

My anxiety must have shown on my face. River brushed his knuckles along my jaw, and I leaned into the touch. “I know you don’t believe me, but I never meant for you to get in trouble. What do you want to do?”

Run away. Crawl into a hole and never come out. Erase all these poor decisions and go back to a time where I never accepted the job of evaluating you.

My chin quivered.

“Cy?”

I blinked River back into focus. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe we need to go our separate ways? That might be for the best. You’ve done enough already.”

My heart squeezed. I’d tried so hard to prepare for this moment, knowing it would come. Why did it hurt so much? Why had I let it come to this? “If they already suspect me, then—”

“No. Listen. Right now, they only have suspicions. They can’t prove you helped get me out of the hospital. What they do know is that you didn’t believe I was guilty. They also know you didn’t believe I was mentally ill. You told them you suspected they had the wrong guy, and they didn’t listen. Now they see you might have been right. All they have is a proactive psychologist—”

“Psychiatrist.”

He chuckled. “Tomato, tom-ah-to.”

“They aren’t the same thing. I told you, a psychiatrist—”

He clasped my chin, giving it a shake. “The point is,” he said, speaking over top of me, “the only thing you’re guilty of is not believing the police when they told you I killed three women. As far as they know, you walked away after that interview and never thought twice about me. The end.”

“They know I didn’t go home. They were at my office with a warrant.”

“So what? You not being there doesn’t mean anything. You aren’t allowed to have a life outside of work? You aren’t allowed to take a few days off and not report to your secretary?”

I sighed. “What do you want me to do?”

“Go to the police.”

I shoved his hand from my face and sat up. “Are you insane?”

“You promised me I wasn’t.”

“You’re not funny.”

He chuckled and shrugged.

“Why on earth would I go to the police? That’s career suicide.”

“No, it’s not. You saw the news, and you wanted to remind them of your suspicions. It’s completely valid. They already know about those girls in the morgue, and they know you know. They have a connection now. What they need is to start looking for someone else and stop looking at me. So, if you go and admit to them you were at the morgue, you make it no big deal. In fact, tell them you’ve been making inquiries around town too. They won’t be happy, but you haven’t done anything wrong. Tell them you found my mother and all she said. I don’t give two flying fucks if they go see her. Fuck her. Tell them about my father. Tell them the name Justice Adams because it will grab their attention, and they won’t be able to ignore you. He’s who they want. Not me.”

I rolled the idea around in my head, examining every angle. We needed the police to redirect their focus to River’s father—whatever his name was. They could find him. They could look into him.

“And what will you do?”

“I need to stay hidden. Lay low for a while so they can sort this out. I don’t know what else I can do. We’ve hit a wall. I swear to you, if they catch up to me, if they never put my father behind bars, I won’t give you up. I appreciate all you’ve done, Cy.”

But you want me to leave. That was what I’d heard. We aren’t anything. We can’t be anything. I feel nothing for you. You’re a stupid, stupid man for believing once again there was more between us.

I fumbled to the edge of the bed. My legs wobbled when I stood. Scanning the ground, I found my clothes and put them on. River was quiet. He didn’t stop me. Why would he? He’d gotten what he wanted. I was a means to an end. My clothing was wrinkled, and my tie hung crooked. None of it mattered. I stuffed the rest of my clothes into my bag, gathered my laptop and other belongings, and stowed them in my briefcase.

In the bathroom, I tried to put my hair in order, but it was hopeless. When I turned to leave, River stood in the bathroom doorway. He’d put on underwear but nothing else.

I couldn’t look him in the eye. When I tried to go around him, he touched my arm. I pulled free, backing up a step.

“Cy, I know you’re upset.”

“I’m fine. Please move. I have to go… talk to the police, I guess.”

“I appreciate all you’ve done.”

“Yeah, you said. I heard you.”

“Look. When this is fixed, when they realize I’m not responsible, maybe we can—”

“Don’t. Please don’t. Don’t fill my head with bullshit lies. I can’t take it. We both know I’m not anything special to you. You’re just going to make it worse. I’ll get over it. I did once. I can do it again.”

I shoved him out of the way, grabbed my bags, and headed for the door.

I had it open, one foot in the hallway, when River called out.

“Cyrus.”

I paused, refusing to turn back.

“You are special. More than you know.”

The pain in my chest returned. I didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

I closed the door and left.

* * *

Parked a block away from the police station, I sat in my car, analyzing every angle of the plan and how many ways it could go wrong. Nausea filled my belly. My heart pumped wave after wave of anxious energy through my veins. I felt sick. In part, it was to do with my trip to the police station, but mostly, it had everything to do with walking away from River.

I couldn’t erase the afternoon from my mind. Call it what you will, but we’d made love. Plain and simple. We’d connected in a way we hadn’t before. And then he’d told me to leave. He’d told me we had to part ways. There was no other option. It was clear. All the things I’d thought I’d seen in his eyes were illusions.

Then why had it felt so real?

Why did my heart ache so much?

Why had I been so certain there was more?

“Because you were a fool. Again.”

I stared at the precinct, a two-story beige brick building down the road, unable to convince myself to get out of the car. What if it all went wrong? What if they suspected me of being River’s accomplice? Of murder. What if they threw me in jail?

I wiped my sweaty palms down my pant legs and blew out a shaky breath. Retrieving my phone from the cup holder, I checked the time. It was close to five. What would my parents be doing right now? Preparing dinner? Likely. They ate ridiculously early nowadays.

I placed the call. I’d talked to them briefly that morning, and it was unusual for me to call twice in one day, so they might be suspicious. But if I was going to end up in jail, if their whole opinion of me changed when they discovered what I’d done, I wanted one last phone call. One last piece of normality before it all changed.

“Hello?” My mother’s musical tone rang in my ear. The TV blared in the background, loud enough it must have been deafening on her end.

“Hi, Mom. It’s me.”

“Cyrus? Hi, sweetheart. This is unexpected. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just… wanted to say hi.”

“Are you still in St. Thomas?”

I’d told my parents I was working with the staff at the hospital with regards to the missing patient, and I wouldn’t be home for a few days. It was quite possibly the first time I’d ever lied to them. It didn’t sit right. Nothing I’d done sat right.

“Yeah, um, I might be a bit longer. I miss you. What are you and Dad up to?”

“Just making dinner. Rosemary pork roast. Your favorite.”

“With baby carrots?”

“And baby potatoes.”

I smiled. “I love that.”

“Did you want to talk to your father? He’s watching TV in the den, but I can go find him.”

“No, it’s okay.” I wasn’t sure having a shouting conversation while sitting in my car was wise, especially a block from the police station. “I just wanted to hear your voice. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. You sure everything’s okay?”

I pressed my fingers into my eyes as my chest tightened. “Yeah.”

She didn’t speak. Her mother’s intuition made her suspicious.

“I’m sorry to bug you. I’ll… call you in the morning.” I hope.

“Okay. I’m here if you need to talk. Always.”

“I know.”

We hung up, and I took another second to pull myself together. I got out of the car and walked the block toward the station. On the sidewalk across the street, I stopped, unable to make my feet take me inside. River was probably right. If I stuck to what he’d said, the worst thing that could happen was I could be in trouble for poking my nose where it didn’t belong.

But what if he was wrong?

What if they’d found evidence that I’d helped River escape? What if they knew I’d been harboring a fugitive? What if they suspected me of murder too?

I might walk in there and end up cuffed and tossed in an interrogation room.

I tugged my phone from my pocket. What if I called instead? I could communicate the same thing over the phone and judge their reaction. Not that it made a whole lot of difference. If I was in trouble, I was in trouble. There would be no escaping it.

Plus, they would want the files on River, and I didn’t have them.

Decided, I performed a quick search and found the number for the London Police—the same number I’d called back when I was in St. Thomas, less than an hour before leaving River the key card.

They hadn’t listened to me then. I hoped this time was different.

A man’s voice came on the line. He had a tone I associated with the police. Steely. Clipped. “London Police Services, how can I direct your call?”

“Um, yes. Hi. Could you please direct me to the detective working the River Jenkins case?”

“Can I ask who’s calling?”

I gripped the phone tighter and swallowed my apprehension. “Dr. Cyrus Irvine.”

“One moment please.”

The steady drum of my heart wouldn’t cease. I paced the sidewalk, aimed for my car, made it all the way there, pivoted, and was back to the same spot across from the station before the detective came on the line.

“Dr. Irvine.” It was a woman’s voice. Detective Allen if I remembered correctly. “Just the man I was hoping to talk to.”

“Oh. Um. Okay.”

“I was at your office this morning in St. Catherines, but your secretary hadn’t seen or heard from you and didn’t know where you might be. You got my warrant, I assume?”

“I did. The paperwork will be in your hands shortly.”

“It’s almost five.”

“I understand.”

“I was hoping we could have a chat. Are you in the area by chance?”

She said it like she knew I was. New sweat trickled down the length of my spine. “Area?”

“London. Are you in the city of London, Dr. Irvine? I could send officers to pick you up. You could hand deliver those files, and we could clear some things up. How does that sound?”

Terrible. It sounded terrible

I cleared my throat. “I was calling about Bianca Rolland.”

“Dr. Ir—”

“The homeless girls in the morgue. They died the same way, didn’t they? I told you to look into them. I told you I suspected the real killer was still out there, and it wasn’t River Jenkins. You didn’t listen, and I was right.”

“Have you been in contact with Dr. Brady?”

“I called him after seeing the news.” No sense in lying. The pathologist had already told the police I’d been there. “I need you to listen to me.”

“Dr. Irvine. I need you to listen to me. Have you been in contact with River Jenkins?”

I hesitated. I shouldn’t have hesitated. “No.”

“I see. I need your location right now so I can send an officer to pick you up. You aren’t in any—”

“No. Look, I’ve been doing some investigating of my own. I know it’s not my job, and I know you want to talk to me, but there’s something important you need to know right now. I found River Jenkins’s mother. During my sessions with the patient, he told me he believed she was trying to contact him.”

Not a lie. “I found her. I spoke with her. She had vital information that can’t be ignored. You need to locate River Jenkins’s father. I strongly believe he is the man responsible for these deaths. Not River. River couldn’t have killed those young girls on the street. You know I’m right. He was locked up. His father was being blackmailed by River’s mother for years. Ask her. I’ll give you her address. He made direct threats. He is the man you want. We… I can’t find him. He goes by the name Justice Adams. I know it’s not his real name, but I have an old address that—”

“Dr. Irvine—”

I wouldn’t let her speak. I rhymed off the old address twice so she wouldn’t forget, even if she wasn’t writing it down.

“He moved about six months ago. I don’t know where to. Find him. You’ll see I’m right.”

“Dr. Irvine, I need you at the station right now, or I’m putting out a warrant for—”

I hung up, my hands trembling. That had gone far worse than I’d hoped. The knot in my gut pulled tighter than ever. I wasn’t supposed to make things worse. I was supposed to clarify what the police weren’t seeing. I was supposed to give them more information, not ignore their demands and hang up on them.

The last place I needed to be was standing on the curb outside the police station. I shoved my phone into my pocket and was ready to spin on my heels and run to my car when a woman across the street caught my eye. She stood outside the doors to the police station, looking right at me. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t place it.

I moved to run, but she called out.

“Wait. Stop.”

My muscles seized. I was not a criminal. My instincts should have taken me away from her, but instead, I stood like an idiot and waited as she dodged traffic and ran across the road toward me.

“Who are you?” she asked when we shared a sidewalk stone.

“W-who are you?”

“My name’s Rose Rolland. Bianca’s my sister.”

Rose Rolland. Another daughter to the mayor. That was why she looked familiar. I could see the similarities now. Rose had chestnut brown hair, unlike her sister’s blonde. But the eyes and facial structure were the same. She was older by half a dozen years but with the same petite frame and elegance.

“I heard you on the phone.”

I backed up a step, ready to split. “What do you want?”

“The police won’t listen to me. I was just talking to them, and I swear they brushed aside everything I said. I heard you. You said the name Justice Adams. You know him?”

“I know of him.” If I knew him, I could help River clear his name, but we were stuck. Justice Adams was nobody, and we didn’t know who the man behind the alias was.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” She glanced at the police station.

She must have sensed my need to get away from there, but I wasn’t sure where I was safe. But I needed to hear what she had to say. It felt important.

“Where?”

“There’s a diner in the east end on Murphy and Hickory. It’s called Kitty’s Kitchen. It’s nothing special, but it’s in a remote area. Away from here.”

“I can meet you there.”

She nodded and held my gaze another beat as though assessing if I’d show up or take off. Like me, I got the sense she wanted to know what I knew.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes or so,” she said.

I nodded, and she headed back across the street. I watched her for a minute then took off to my car. Once inside, I debated calling the motel and requesting to be transferred to the room River and I had shared. Would he still be there? Did he want an update? I was still clinging to something that didn’t exist. River didn’t care. He’d cut his losses and gone off on his own.

Fine.

I set my phone in the cup holder and started the car.

After I heard what this Rose woman had to say, I’d sort out what to do next.

If I had new information, useful information, then maybe I’d call him.

Or not.

I scrubbed a hand over my face and headed to the diner.

Rose beat me there. She’d taken a booth in the back and had her hands wrapped around a steaming ceramic mug. The scent of fried food hung in the air, the clatter and banging of pots and pans in the kitchen bled through the service door behind the counter. My stomach rumbled. I wasn’t sure I should eat. Hungry or not, my gut was in a knot.

I sat across from Rose, scanning the diner, my nerves on edge. It was a small restaurant. Nondescript. When a waitress came by the table, I ordered coffee. The last thing I needed was caffeine, but I wanted to keep my brain sharp.

“What do you know about Justice Adams?” I asked when the waitress was far enough away. There was no time for casual chit-chat. I needed answers.

Rose sipped from her mug. Hints of ginger and spice drifted between us. It was herbal tea of some kind. Rose studied me for a long moment. Her eyes were red rimmed with heavy dark shadows underneath. It dawned on me that she’d just lost her sister, and I’d dismissed that fact. The woman was grieving. I was about to offer my condolences when she cut me off.

“Justice Adams is the father of my sister’s baby.”

I flinched. “What?”

Rose sniffled and stared into her mug. “Bianca was pregnant when she died. Not far along. End of the first trimester. Our parents didn’t know until they got the results of the autopsy. No one knew. Just me.”

“They didn’t report it on the news.”

Rose shook her head. “They withheld that information on purpose. As far as I understand, they’re doing a DNA test to see if the baby belongs to this guy they arrested. River Jenkins. The one who’s escaped.” Rose shook her head. “It’s not his.”

My heart knocked heavy against my rib cage. I sat forward. “How do you know the baby belonged to Justice Adams?”

“Because Bianca told me.” Rose’s face crumpled. She took a second to pull herself together. Blinking several times, she looked up and studied my face. “My sister was rebellious. She had a wild streak. Ever since she started college, it’s gotten worse. Dad kept her on a tight leash, but Bianca did what she wanted. When Dad cut her allowance, she found other ways to get money.”

My blood turned to ice. “The Secret Admirer app.”

Rose nodded. “Dad would have been furious if he’d known. He’s running for reelection next term. It would have destroyed his campaign.”

The waitress arrived with my coffee. Rose ducked her chin and sipped her tea. The waitress asked if we wanted food. When we both declined, she headed off to serve other tables.

Rose tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, watching the woman retreat before meeting my eyes again. “She met Justice on that app back in March or something. I told her it was crazy and dangerous, but you can’t tell Bianca anything. A sugar daddy is exactly what she wanted, and I guess the guy was loaded. They hit it off. When she told me how old the guy was, I freaked out.”

“How old?”

Rose shook her head. “He’s like in his sixties or something. Older than our dad. And married. She told me she didn’t care. He was hot for his age and spent a shitload of money on her. He made her feel special. She said he talked a lot about leaving his wife so they could be together. I told her she was stupid if she believed it. Guys like that will say anything. Then she got pregnant, on purpose if I had to guess. She said once he knew about the baby, he would stop dragging his feet and take action. She told me he loved her.”

“Did she tell him about the baby?”

Rose picked at an old scuff mark on the table, her chest hitching, tears filling her eyes. “She told him two months ago when she found out. Then he fell off the face of the earth. Bianca was livid. I’ve never seen her like that. She said he was pissed and told her to get rid of it. He didn’t want anything to do with a baby. She told him no. I guess they fought, and he stopped contacting her. He told her there were plenty more fish in the sea, and she wasn’t special.”

Rose sniffled and pulled a napkin from a dispenser. She wiped her nose and blotted her eyes. “Bianca doesn’t like to be told no. She told me she was going to give him some time to adjust to the idea, and if he didn’t change his mind, he’d be sorry.”

My phone rang, cutting into the tension of Rose’s story. I apologized and tugged it from my pocket, half expecting it to be the London Police. It was an unknown number. I hesitated, then declined, silencing my phone and stuffing it back into my pocket. I wasn’t ready to get taken in for questioning. Not quite yet. I needed to see the bigger picture.

I faced Rose again. The wariness and pain behind her eyes weren’t hidden.

“Did you tell the police all of this?”

“Yes. And they told me there was no Justice Adams. They said it was an alias River Jenkins used to con women. They told me they were actively searching for him and that he was who killed my sister. They said the circumstances surrounding her death matched what they’d seen in other victims. It wasn’t that guy. He’s too young. Justice Adams is in his sixties. I know he did something to my sister. She called him and said they had to talk about the baby. They were supposed to meet at the hotel the same night she turned up dead. I know what she can be like. She was ready for a fight, and she wasn’t going to back down.

“My sister and I were close. She never lied to me. She sent me his picture a few months ago when it all started. Back when he was doting on her and treating her like royalty. He’s not some twenty-year-old. Look.”

Rose pulled a phone from her pocket and fiddled with it. When she found what she was looking for, she turned it around and slid it toward me. “I think that was taken in front of his house. Bianca said they went there a few times when his wife was out of town. I showed the police too, but they barely looked at it. The street number is visible if you blow it up. On the mailbox there, but I don’t know what street it is or where in the city. I was too busy trying to talk sense into my sister to ask.”

I didn’t see the mailbox or the number or even the details of the house in the background. All I saw was the man himself, half sneering, half smiling at the camera, a mixture of irritation and adoration on his face. The man who stood beside his black Bentley. The man who was in his early sixties.

I’d never met the man before in my life, but my stomach turned to liquid.

The eyes staring back at the camera, the expression on the man’s face, it was all too familiar.

“Oh no.”