CHAPTER 17
Parker had been tossing and turning in bed for three hours already. The sheet had long since bunched up somewhere around his feet, and the mattress felt as hard as stone.
Sleep stubbornly refused to come.
His eyelids burned with exhaustion, his whole body ached, yet every time he closed his eyes, they drifted open again just a few minutes later.
The second night in a row. With every passing minute, the irritation only tightened somewhere beneath his ribs until, at last, it snapped. Rick yanked the pillow out from under his head and hurled it onto the floor with all his strength.
The room was so quiet it made his ears ring. Even the clock seemed to be ticking louder than usual.
He reached for his phone. The screen lit up with a pale glow.
03:27.Goddamn time.
Absentmindedly, he scrolled through a few news headlines without remembering a single word. His thumb slid into his contacts on its own.
Aaron L.Rick let out an irritated breath, opened the contact, then almost immediately switched to their
message thread.
He wasn't even reading. His eyes simply skimmed over the familiar texts before he closed the conversation and returned to Aaron's contact page.
His thumb hovered over the call button.
Would it really have been that hard to just call?
One phone call.
One short sentence.
"Rick, I have to leave."That was it.
Would that really have taken so much effort?
The thought kept circling back until he realized he was starting to get angry at himself.
"What a load of bullshit..."
He angrily locked the screen and tossed the phone onto the bed so hard that it slid off the mattress and hit the floor with a dull thud.
Rick lay there a while longer, staring into the darkness. It felt like the night would never end.
Clearly, he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight either.
His body felt heavy and numb, but his mind was still spinning at full speed. He got up and shuffled barefoot toward the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator.
A lone lightbulb glowed inside. On one shelf sat a few cans of beer, a stick of butter, the sandwich he'd made the day before yesterday, and a dried-out piece of cheese. He grabbed something at random and chewed without tasting it, mechanically, just to give his mouth something to do.
His gaze drifted around the room.
There were still unpacked boxes everywhere.
It felt uncomfortable. Foreign. As though he were still a guest in his own home.
"Well... since I'm awake anyway..."
He opened the first box. Then the second. Shirts. Socks. Random little trinkets. Kitchen utensils he couldn't even remember buying. One by one, everything found its place, and little by little the apartment stopped looking like a storage unit.
But he didn't stop there. His hands reached for a cleaning cloth on their own.
Before long, the apartment smelled of cleaning solution, water splashed noisily in the sink, and the cloth squeaked unpleasantly across the countertop. Then came the bathroom. Then the hallway floor.
By morning, the apartment gleamed as though he were expecting guests. Only when he caught himself viciously scrubbing the same old baseboard for nearly fifteen minutes did Rick finally realize it was time to stop.
Silently, he tossed the cloth into the sink, rubbed a tired hand over his face, and only then pressed the button.
While the coffee maker hummed softly in the kitchen, he stood with both palms braced against the counter, silently watching coffee drip into the carafe one drop at a time.
The first sip burned pleasantly on the way down. The hot drink spread warmly through him, driving away the icy knot lodged somewhere in his chest, if only for a moment.
He lifted the mug to his lips again and paused, studying it.
Just one...
What if it broke?
Or...
What if someone came over?
The thought was absurd. Yet somehow it stuck.
"I definitely need to buy another one," he muttered to himself with a dry chuckle.
After getting himself ready, he began mentally sorting through the day's errands. He needed to stop by the grocery store and buy at least something to eat.
And salt.
Definitely salt.
Why that had suddenly become so important, Rick had no idea.
Then he needed to print the photographs, take them to the station, pick up Hong, and try reaching Cooper again.
He looked around the apartment. Now it sparkled. But it still didn't feel any cozier. Everything was finally in its proper place, yet it still didn't feel like home.
Letting out an irritated sigh, he pulled on his jacket and shoved his hands into the pockets.
His fingers suddenly brushed against the familiar rough edge of folded paper. A sharp twinge shot through his chest. He pulled out the note and silently unfolded it.
"Left town. I'll be back Friday."The short sentence stung his eyes all over again.
He stared at it as though he might somehow find another word hidden between the lines. But there wasn't one. Still the same dry, clipped message. He'd read those two lines dozens of times already. It wasn't getting any easier.
It was only Tuesday.
An eternity still lay ahead.
Empty days that somehow had to be filled if he didn't want to lose his mind.
Lake had left at exactly the wrong time, leaving behind nothing but this miserable note. It should have been comforting. Instead, every time he read it, it only made him angrier, and Parker couldn't even explain why.
Yesterday's events refused to leave his mind.
Stanley.
Coop.
Fox.
No...
Everything had changed the moment Gekkon's name was spoken.
After that, Stanley hadn't even tried to act brave anymore. He'd only kept repeating that he didn't meddle in their business, that he made no decisions, that he simply did what he was told.
Yesterday it had sounded like a pathetic attempt to save himself. Now...Not anymore.
Rick let out a quiet breath.
Who are you, Gekkon?..If your name alone was enough to make the entire conversation fall apart...
And could Coop have killed Caroline and Sarah on your orders?
Maybe the girls really had seen something. Or learned something.
And Katie? Had she been part of this story too, all those years ago?
If all of this was true...What had they gotten themselves into?
And what was he supposed to tell Aaron when he came back?
One question led to another. Yet something stubbornly refused to fit.
Rick crushed the note in his fist, but almost immediately smoothed it out again and slipped it back into his pocket.
"Damn..." he whispered into the empty apartment before stepping out the door.
***
The weather was offering up that mocking kind of sun again. Bright, blinding, as though spring had already spilled into the streets. Squint a little, and for a moment you could almost believe birds were about to start singing somewhere. But the second you breathed in deeply, the frost burned your lungs and dragged you straight back into November.
Rick silently put on his sunglasses. After a sleepless night, even this cold morning light hurt his eyes.
Fourteen minutes. Fifteen.
Billy still hadn’t appeared.
“Where the hell are you…”
Parker tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose and checked the time again.
At last, a familiar figure appeared around the corner.
Hong was walking quickly down the sidewalk, hands shoved into his pockets. His jacket, as expected, was unzipped.
Rick only let out a heavy breath.
Of course.
As soon as Billy spotted the car, he smiled widely and waved. Then he crossed the parking lot almost at a run, pulled open the passenger door, and had barely sat down before looking at Rick guiltily.
“Good morning!”
“Morning.”
“Sorry, I’m a little late… Thanks for picking me up.”
Parker glanced at him, his gaze lingering on the open jacket, and shook his head wearily.
“Come here.”
Hong leaned closer in confusion.
Without saying a word, Rick took hold of the zipper pull and fastened the jacket all the way up to his chin in one smooth motion.
Billy blinked in surprise.
“Rick?”
“It’s cold.”
“I’m really not—”
“It’s cold,” Parker repeated, adjusting the collar. “Then you’ll be sitting there with a fever pretending everything’s fine.”
Billy lowered his eyes, embarrassed. He touched the fastened collar automatically, then managed an uncertain smile.
“Thank you…”
Parker only waved it off, as if nothing special had happened.
“And stop thanking me so much.”
He was silent for a second, then looked at him over the dark lenses.
“If I see you unzipped again, I’m buying you a hat with the biggest pom-pom I can find.”
Billy stared blankly at first, then unexpectedly burst out laughing.
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“That sounds threatening,” he said with the faintest smile.
“Glad you appreciate it.”
“Okay,” the young man nodded quietly. “Then I promise I’ll zip up.”
“Now that sounds like a reasonable conversation.”
Parker started the engine, and the car slowly pulled away. Almost immediately, Billy connected his phone to the old stereo, and some upbeat young-person song filled the cabin.
Rick wasn’t listening. He just watched the road.
But the chorus repeated once.
Then a second time.
Then a third.
With every loop, an unpleasant pressure tightened at his temples. He gripped the steering wheel harder.
“Billy.”
“What?”
“Turn it off.”
“Why?”
“It’s distracting,” he answered before he could think.
“Oh…” The music went silent at once, and a strange quiet settled over the car. “Okay.”
Rick bit his tongue irritably.
For several seconds he stared at the road in silence, then exhaled sharply, reached for the stereo, and turned the music back on — much quieter this time.
Billy smiled to himself, but said nothing.
Outside the windows, identical gray blocks, almost bare trees, and the occasional passerby wrapped in a scarf drifted past. Every now and then Billy tapped his fingers softly against his knee in time with the music, sometimes humming under his breath so quietly it was barely audible.
Half an hour later, they turned into the familiar neighborhood.
Coop’s gray pickup was parked in its usual spot.
“Looks like he’s home,” Rick said quietly, cutting the engine.
Silence wrapped around the car. Now the wind moving between the buildings could be heard clearly.
They chose a spot a little farther away, where the entrance they needed was visible but the car itself didn’t stand out.
Now all they had to do was wait.
Rick automatically checked the mirrors, shifted his gaze to the first-floor windows, then back to the entrance. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. Checked the time.
Nothing.
Ten minutes passed.
Then another twenty.
In that time, a young mother with a stroller left the building, then an old man with a grocery bag, then a courier carrying two pizza boxes.
Coop never appeared.
Rick only pressed his fingers harder into the wheel.
And yet, somewhere deep inside, there was a strange feeling that Coop would definitely go somewhere today.
Rick had long since stopped arguing with his own intuition. Too often, it had dragged him places logic never would have led. Today that feeling was especially insistent.
Another hour passed.
“By the way,” Hong said, clicking his pencil against the spiral of his notebook and breaking the silence. “Did you hear the news?”
“No,” Rick answered absently, not taking his eyes off the entrance. “What news?”
“The sheriff secured us additional funding. So.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. And in honor of that, there’s going to be a charity ball at city hall in two weeks. Everything they raise will go to the department.”
Parker gave a quiet huff.
“A ball… Of course.”
He looked again at the gray entrance, where nothing had been happening for hours.
“Funny contrast. We’re sitting here staking out a drug dealer, and in two weeks we’ll be walking around in tuxedos with glasses of champagne.”
“But that’s great!” Billy smiled. “Everyone from the station is invited. You too, by the way. It should be really interesting. Live music, dinner… Honestly, I’ve always wanted to go to something like that.
What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you going?”
Rick shrugged.
“If they don’t leave me a choice. Though I don’t know, I don’t even own a tux.”
“So buy one.”
“For one evening?” He snorted. “I feel calmer in jeans.”
“Do you like anything?” Billy asked, frowning.
“Sleep. Preferably twelve hours straight.”
The corners of Billy’s mouth crept upward on their own.
“Okay… That counts.”
His smile hadn’t even faded when Rick suddenly asked:
“Who’s organizing all this, anyway? Do you know?”
“I think city hall.”
Parker thoughtfully ran his thumb over the steering wheel.
Michael King.The name surfaced on its own.
Once, Aaron had mentioned in passing that King never did anything for no reason. At the time, Rick hadn’t given the words much thought.
Now, for some reason, he remembered them.
He looked back through the windshield.
Probably a coincidence. But the unpleasant feeling had already caught somewhere inside him.
Billy remained quiet for a while longer, still watching the entrance.
“Can I ask something?” he finally said.
“Ask.”
“Why did you come back here?”
Rick didn’t answer right away.
Outside, a gust of wind tore the last dry leaves from a tree and sent them skittering across the empty parking lot.
“Everyone usually leaves this place,” Billy added more softly. “But you… came back.”
Parker pulled the keys from the ignition. The metal jingled softly as he turned the key ring between his fingers.
“I ask myself that sometimes too.”
After a brief pause, he gave a faint shrug.
“It wasn’t bad there. Decent job. Salary. Apartment. There were girls…”
Billy turned to him in surprise.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“And what happened?”
Rick exhaled quietly.
“Nothing.”
For some reason, talking about it was unexpectedly difficult.
“At first, everything was always good. You know, cafés, movies, nice evenings. Then at some point the conversations became… different.”
The words came with surprising effort.
“Then it started. Moving in together. Parents. Plans… in a year. In five.”
One corner of his mouth twitched in a humorless smile.
“And I immediately felt… trapped. Like I just wanted to run.”
Billy listened carefully.
“Not because they were bad,” Rick continued more quietly. “The opposite, probably. They were good. Maybe too good.”
The keys turned softly between his fingers.
“It was just that the more serious everything got, the more it felt like one day there would come a point when leaving wouldn’t be possible anymore.”
The car fell quiet.
Billy asked carefully:
“So you left?”
Parker nodded.
“Almost always. It was easier that way. Sometimes without much of a reason.”
Outside, bare branches swayed slowly.
“You know… I kept thinking that if I just gave it a little more time, I’d get used to it. To that life. To those conversations. To the idea that one day everything would become serious.”
The words hung between them.
“I didn’t.”
Billy was silent for a long time, then asked very quietly:
“So why did you come back here, then?”
Rick looked at the familiar gray buildings beyond the windshield. Everything was the same: peeling facades, broken sidewalk, old five-story blocks. And yet, for some reason, his eyes caught not on them, but on a rosehip bush burning red beside the road, and the chalk drawings on the pavement that the November rain hadn’t quite washed away yet.
He smiled faintly.
“Because only here did I stop pretending.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” Rick shrugged. “Everything here feels kind of… real. It doesn’t try to look like something else. It just is.”
He thought for a second.
