that I, for some reason, assumed was an all-clear. Wasting no time, I padded into the kitchen, plopped the pizzas on the counter, and began pulling plates from a nearby cabinet. I was so dang hungry I could eat half the pizza by myself, but I wouldn’t.
“Can one of you guys knock on the bathroom door and tell Meg to hurry up.?” I shouted as I lifted the cardboard lid, my stomach growling as the delicious scents wafted into the air.
“Sure,” Hackett grunted.
I continued plating the pizza, sneaking a few bites of the toppings as Hackett pounded on the bathroom door, his rumbling, deep voice relaying my message. Then nothing. He knocked a few more times with no response. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black case. I watched in utter curiosity as he removed a slim silver instrument with a hook at the end.
He peered in my direction, a look of concern etched across his face as he jabbed the slim little tool into the door knob. With a few quick moves, the lock was disengaged. He spoke in a calm even tone, calling out to Meg as steam billowed from the small bathroom. No response. A shudder licked its way through me as I stood frozen at the kitchen door, a mere twenty feet or so away.
Hackett slipped into the sea of steam, only to back out of the room seconds later. I don’t remember moving, but I found myself at his side within seconds.
“What?” I squeaked, my throat suddenly dry. “Is Meg... is she okay?” Somehow I knew the answer to my question before he even responded. I knew she wasn’t. The look on his face told me everything I needed to know.
“No,” he barked, grabbing my arm as I moved to step inside the bathroom. Tears welled up in my eyes.
Hackett pulled me into his side, easing me back down the hall to the living room where Eamon sat unfazed on the fluffy sofa, watching television. He glanced towards us. “What’s wrong with her?”
“We have a problem. Meg. She’s dead.”
“What?” Eamon sat up instantly.
“Someone got to her while we were gone. I know it’s not our thing, but we have no choice but to call the police in on this one, Eamon. I’ll make the call. You take care of Haven.”
Fifteen minutes later, the police arrived taking over the house like a swarm of locusts. They buzzed about, asking questions and taking photographs of the scene. A couple of detectives questioned the three of us separately. We had no real answers for them. None of us knew Meg personally. All we knew was that she was a lab technician on the team. Suddenly I was engulfed in a sadness that rocked me to my core. She was too young to die. Too young to have missed out on living her life, a life she had barely begun to live. That realization made me sad, but it also made me angry as hell.
A short, thin female detective sat on the couch beside me. I barely gave her a second glance. My thoughts were elsewhere. No matter how much I wanted to believe this was some random attack, I knew it wasn’t. Meg was dead because we left her behind. We... no... I was responsible for her death. I should have waited and demanded that she go with us. It was my fault. Had I been thinking clearly, had I not been wrapped up in thoughts of Sebastian fucking me senseless, she would still be alive.
“It’s my fault,” I whispered, the words rolling out before I could stop them.
“Why is that?” the female detective asked pointedly, as she arched a single brow.
“I left her behind. I shouldn’t have left her behind.”
The officer sat quietly for a moment, not uttering a single word. She did glance at Eamon and Hackett who, for the most part, remained quiet unless asked a direct question. The first officers on the scene had spent very little time talking with us. Hackett had simply told the men that we had returned from grabbing dinner to find Meg’s lifeless body in the shower and called the police.
It hadn’t exactly happened that way, though. We had gone about things as if nothing was wrong. We
“Can one of you guys knock on the bathroom door and tell Meg to hurry up.?” I shouted as I lifted the cardboard lid, my stomach growling as the delicious scents wafted into the air.
“Sure,” Hackett grunted.
I continued plating the pizza, sneaking a few bites of the toppings as Hackett pounded on the bathroom door, his rumbling, deep voice relaying my message. Then nothing. He knocked a few more times with no response. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black case. I watched in utter curiosity as he removed a slim silver instrument with a hook at the end.
He peered in my direction, a look of concern etched across his face as he jabbed the slim little tool into the door knob. With a few quick moves, the lock was disengaged. He spoke in a calm even tone, calling out to Meg as steam billowed from the small bathroom. No response. A shudder licked its way through me as I stood frozen at the kitchen door, a mere twenty feet or so away.
Hackett slipped into the sea of steam, only to back out of the room seconds later. I don’t remember moving, but I found myself at his side within seconds.
“What?” I squeaked, my throat suddenly dry. “Is Meg... is she okay?” Somehow I knew the answer to my question before he even responded. I knew she wasn’t. The look on his face told me everything I needed to know.
“No,” he barked, grabbing my arm as I moved to step inside the bathroom. Tears welled up in my eyes.
Hackett pulled me into his side, easing me back down the hall to the living room where Eamon sat unfazed on the fluffy sofa, watching television. He glanced towards us. “What’s wrong with her?”
“We have a problem. Meg. She’s dead.”
“What?” Eamon sat up instantly.
“Someone got to her while we were gone. I know it’s not our thing, but we have no choice but to call the police in on this one, Eamon. I’ll make the call. You take care of Haven.”
Fifteen minutes later, the police arrived taking over the house like a swarm of locusts. They buzzed about, asking questions and taking photographs of the scene. A couple of detectives questioned the three of us separately. We had no real answers for them. None of us knew Meg personally. All we knew was that she was a lab technician on the team. Suddenly I was engulfed in a sadness that rocked me to my core. She was too young to die. Too young to have missed out on living her life, a life she had barely begun to live. That realization made me sad, but it also made me angry as hell.
A short, thin female detective sat on the couch beside me. I barely gave her a second glance. My thoughts were elsewhere. No matter how much I wanted to believe this was some random attack, I knew it wasn’t. Meg was dead because we left her behind. We... no... I was responsible for her death. I should have waited and demanded that she go with us. It was my fault. Had I been thinking clearly, had I not been wrapped up in thoughts of Sebastian fucking me senseless, she would still be alive.
“It’s my fault,” I whispered, the words rolling out before I could stop them.
“Why is that?” the female detective asked pointedly, as she arched a single brow.
“I left her behind. I shouldn’t have left her behind.”
The officer sat quietly for a moment, not uttering a single word. She did glance at Eamon and Hackett who, for the most part, remained quiet unless asked a direct question. The first officers on the scene had spent very little time talking with us. Hackett had simply told the men that we had returned from grabbing dinner to find Meg’s lifeless body in the shower and called the police.
It hadn’t exactly happened that way, though. We had gone about things as if nothing was wrong. We
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