Witha glance in my direction, Rosie nodded. “It's hard to just … give something upthat's been a part of you for so long.”
Myeyes met hers for a fleeting moment of mutual understanding before TJ groanedand my attention was yanked in his direction once again.
“Iwish we could justaskher,” he said, thrusting a hand into his floppy,limp mohawk. “God, it's all such bullshit. It's just …” His voice was choked onthe words as he dropped his hand and pushed away from the table. “It's justs-so fucking unfair.”
Hehurried out of the room, to slam a door somewhere in the house, and Rosiequickly dropped her fork and began to get up, when I stopped her with a gentlehand on her arm.
“Maybegive him a minute.”
Startled,she stared at my fingers, and I pulled my hand back as quickly as it had beenplaced against her skin. I turned my attention back on my dinner, as Ithreatened my palm to forget the feeling of her soft, warm skin.
“Areye okay?” Rick asked, and I looked to him, foolishly thinking that his questionmight have been for me. But it wasn't. He was looking at Rosie, and when Iglanced to the left of me, I understood why.
Herfingers were wrapped so tightly around her fork, her knuckles shone whitebeneath the stretched skin, and her chest fell heavily with every shallowbreath. Desperately trying to maintain her composure, she swallowed repeatedly,with her eyes closed and lips parted, and I decided I didn't care about my resistanceto feel for this woman. What I cared about now was to make sure she knew shewasn't alone, and that if this was all too much for her to handle, then shedidn't need to handle it at all.
“Rosie.”I dropped my fork and turned in my seat. I took her hand in mine, pulling theutensil from her rigid fingers, and commanded her body to face mine with myhands against her shoulders. “Rosie. Look at me.”
Shepried her eyes open, and although she didn't speak, I assumed I had herattention. “Yedinnaeneed to do this,y'ken. I know I keepsayin’ it,but I’msayin’ it again. Ye can leave withyerson, takeyersister'sashesand go home. Ye can forget about all of thisshite, andknow that I will take care of it. Iwillnaeforget her, and I will make sure her murderer isfound.”
Theblank stare she held was dissolved with a shake of her head and she shruggedher shoulders from my grip. “I-I’m fine, and I told you, I’m not goinganywhere,” she insisted, as she turned her attention back to her plate, but shenever took another bite.
***
Sleephad truly become a distant and missed friend. That was typical of me, wheneverI found my head wound too tightly around a case. But thisparticularonehad consumed more than just my ability to take a nap. It had also crushedmy appetite and my desire to think of anything else.With theexception ofa woman who was also tied down by the murder of GraceAllan.
Istared at Rick’s photograph of Grace’s hand, looking beyond the shimmering redvarnish on her fingernails, and wondered if I should venture upstairs and knockon her sister’s door. Rosie was obviously struggling with the grief of losingher sister. She was sitting right in the eye of the storm, while ignoring thedebrisswirling violentlyall around her. I feared whatwould happen when it all came to an ugly head, and I feared that it wouldhappen while she was helping me on this case.
Theguilt of getting her involved was always never far from my mind. I wished shewould leave, or at the very least stay out of it. Yet, I was also so selfishlyglad that she was staying, and I was one touch of her hand away from completelyhating myself for it. If only I possessed the power to turn off my undeniableattraction to her.
Whisperedfootsteps drew my attention away from the picture, and I turned my head towardthe kitchen doorway, half expecting to see the one-footed corpse of GraceAllan, shuffling her way into the room. I was grateful to see it wasn’t.
“Yecannaesleep again?” I asked, as Rosie slid onto thechair beside me.
Herfrustration was evident in the way she blew out a heavy breath and shook herhead. “I just keep seeing her.”
“Doyewannatell me about it?”
Shehuffed an agitated sigh. “I just don’t know what good it will do to even talkabout it. It’s not going to change anything or bring her back, so why bother?”
Releasinga breath, I turned my eyes to the pictures and nodded. “Well, then let me askye this. Whatdoye want?”
“Whatdo Iwant?”
“Aye.”
Rosiesnickered, shaking her head. “What I want is for Gracie to be back. That’s whatI want. I don’t want to talk about her or dream about her or think about howshe was killed. I just want to be able to pick up the phone, dial her number,and know that she’sgonnapick up. That’s what Iwant. I wanther.”
Sheclapped a hand over her mouth before releasing a sob that she let drown againsther palm. She sniffled loudly and shook her head, closing her eyes tightly asthe tears began to quickly slip down her cheeks. I didn’t wait for permissionor for her emotions to subside, as I quickly stood and crossed the kitchen tothe cupboard where Rick kept the glasses. I grabbed two, then retrieved abottle of whisky from the counter, before returning to the table. I poured eachof us a wee dram, and Rosie released a watery chuckle.
“You’rekidding, right? I need more than that.”
So,I poured out some more, then handed her one of the full glasses.
“Thanks,”she said, before knocking it back and downing half the glass. She swallowedviolently against the sting of alcohol and blinked her eyes rapidly. “Wow.”
Aftertaking a wee sip, I laughed. “It’s verra strong. Ishouldaewarned ye.”
“No,”she replied, shaking her head. “It’s exactly what I needed.”
