Tomorrow Is Never Promised

Chapter 14

Ethan

The sounds of birds chirping and morning sunlight pouring into the window woke me up. I glared out the window and rolled onto my side, pulling a pillow over my head.

This was not the morning, birds.

I slept like s**t last night. My relaxing hot shower that I naively thought would help me relax did not, in fact, help me relax. I spent most of the night on my work laptop looking through case files and also replaying the events of last night in my head.

“This was just a mishap…”

I pulled the pillow off my face with a huff and stared up at the ceiling.

Why was I so tore up over this? He was just a guy, there was no stake, no claim. Why would it matter if it happened again or not?

I just needed to focus on the case, yes, that’s what I needed. The more I focused on the case and less on Oliver the better off we would both be.

With that decided, I swung my legs out of bed and pulled my sweats on followed by an old cut off tee advertising a spartan run I had done back home. I stepped out in the hallway where I was greeted by the smells of coffee and bacon wafting from downstairs. My nose carried me into the kitchen where I was greeted by Oliver, wearing that ratty Northwestern t-shirt I liked and his joggers pulled up to his knees. I quickly found out that was he liked wearing them, it was kind of entertaining to me.

I pushed down the strong feelings of attraction I was getting and entered the kitchen, moving around him and grabbing a mug from the cupboard for coffee.

“Morning.” Oliver stated in a hopeful tone.

I grunted in response, not wanting my mouth to have the opportunity to get me into trouble. I poured the dark liquid into the mug and then turned to make my way out of the kitchen.

“Whoa-whoa.”

I stopped and gave him an expectant look. He was holding a spatula in one hand and a pan of what looked like ham in the other. There was a look on his face that seemed to ask me what I was doing.

He gestured with the spatula towards the pan. “I made breakfast. You want some?”

I held up the mug. “Got a busy morning. Coffee’s fine.”

A look of hurt flashed behind his eyes, and that look made my stomach drop slightly. I was a little sore with him over last night, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Ethan,” He sighed and set the pan down. “Last night-“

“We don’t need to talk about it.” I interrupted.

“But, I think we should…” He trailed off.

I looked at him and a lump began to form in my throat. I wanted to tell him that last night meant more to me than just a one time thing, that I didn’t think it was a mistake. But Oliver didn’t want that, at least he gave me the impression last night that he wanted to bury it. Did he change his mind all of a sudden?

I cleared my throat and shook my head. “I don’t want to.” I lied.

He looked defeated as he dropped his gaze and nodded his head. He looked up at me before he spoke, his tone coming across flat.

“Okay.”

I nodded my head and left the kitchen, feeling like a complete ass. I didn’t want to hurt Oliver, hell, I didn’t even blame him for what he said last night. This was just for the best.

After I was showered and dressed, I clambered down the stairs and grabbed my leather coat off the hook by the front door. As I shrugged it on, Oliver appeared at my side, holding out a thermos and a weak smile.

I eyed the thermos, which I assumed was coffee judging by the smell emanating from it, and then grabbed it gently out of his hand.

“Thanks.” I mumbled breaking eye contact and turning towards the door.

“Ethan I-“

I froze with my hand on the doorknob and glanced at him. His mouth was hanging open slightly, like he was trying to find the words to finish his sentence but they were lost in him.

“I’m-“

I gave him an expectant look. What was he trying to say? I’m sorry? I f****d up? None of those things were necessary. He shouldn’t have to apologize to me, or try to explain himself. I was the one who should be sorry. I was the one who f****d up and let my feelings get the better of me. Last night, I should have broke the kiss off and separated myself. Instead, I pushed further and now we were both in this situation.

“I have to go to work.” I stated, trying to get out of this situation before I blurted something I would regret later.

“No buddy system?” He asked.

I c****d my head at him curiously. He should sound thrilled about that, but instead he sounded rather sad about it.

I jabbed a finger towards the door. “Sheppard and Dixon are both out front. They each do a perimeter sweep every fifteen minutes. You should be fine.”

Every fiber of my being screamed against leaving him at the house by himself. But I also didn’t have much of a choice. I still had a job to do, and only a portion of that was watching over Oliver. Wolf and I had a lot of work to do today, starting with whatever Oliver’s mother had to do with this current case.

That same defeated look from earlier split across his features. But he nodded regardless.

“Be safe.”

I gave a curt nod and pulled the front door open, stepping out onto the front porch and into the crisp fall air. I didn’t immediately hear the door click shut, which told me that Oliver was probably watching me walk away. Why did walking away and leaving things unresolved feel so wrong?

I gave a nod to Dixon and Sheppard, who nodded back, and hopped into my car. I gave Oliver one final look through my windshield before backing out of the driveway and heading in the direction of the station.

“You’re here early.” Sully’s shocked tone greeted me as I sat at my desk twenty minutes later.

I shrugged off my jacket and logged into my computer. “Crime never sleeps, right?”

He c****d an eyebrow and looked at me suspiciously. “Riiight.”

I turned my attention back to my screen and tried to ignore the odd look I got from him. I hoped he would dig any further, he had total “Dad” senses, and it was a little unnerving. He could always tell when something was up.

Luckily he didn’t press and instead continued on whatever it was he was working on. I let out a sigh and pulled up my case file, going to the most recent victim. Rebecca Harris.

According to the coroners report, and what was observed at the scene, she was completely drained of her blood and her heart removed post mortem. But why? And why would the killer leave a picture of Oliver’s mom with the victim. What did she have to do with any of these current murders? What was even more weird, was that the previous victims didn’t even have any clues pointing to Oliver or his family. So why all of a sudden Rebecca Harris?

Could the first four victims just be a red herring? Something to distract us from the killer’s real intentions? Could they have just been for attention maybe? I mean, none of them had any connections. It would make the most logical sense.

The slamming of a newspaper on my desk had me jumping out of my skin and glaring at the person responsible. The person was none other than Wolf.

“Well, our friendly Miss Schaefer decided to give our killer a clever name.” He stated with disdain.

“Really?” I grabbed the paper and sure enough, front page of The Portland Post, in bold and large letters.

Stumptown Stalker Strikes Again, Latest Victim Linked to Member of Police

“Not exactly catchy.” He added.

I wasn’t paying attention to the name though, I was paying more attention to the other piece of the headline.

Latest victim linked to member of the police.

I scanned the article until I found a paragraph that made my stomach drop unpleasantly.

“Twenty-seven year old Rebecca Harris was found in Forest Park, authorities stating her body had been completely drained of blood and her heart removed. What was more compelling was the evidence left behind. A picture of a woman who was non other than the mother of Criminal Profiler, Doctor Oliver Reagan, of the Portland Police Bureau. Authorities have refused to comment as to why this crucial piece of evidence was left behind on Harris’ body, however, further investigation recognizes the woman in the picture as none other than Angela Reagan. Angela Reagan, a Los Angeles socialite and philanthropist, was found murdered in her Beverly Hills home alongside her husband, and surgeon, Doctor Nathan Reagan over 12 years ago…”

I set the article down, too irritated to read the rest. Who the hell did Samantha Schaefer think she was? She basically just smeared Oliver’s tragic family past all over the front page of the morning paper.

“Did you know all this stuff about Oliver?” Wolf asked.

I shot him an icy glare and he leaned back, holding both hands up in surrender.

“Down boy.”

I shook my head and let out a frustrated growl. “f*****g Samantha-goddamn-Schaefer.”

This wasn’t good. With this article, people were going to start demanding answers. The city was already on high alert with the presence of a serial killer and now that they know that the last victim was linked to a criminal profiler who was employed with the Portland Police, people were going to lose their minds. What was even worse was that they were more than likely going to lose their minds on Oliver, who was already going through so much. We needed to move Oliver somewhere safe, somewhere no one could find him or think to look.

I pushed away from my desk and grabbed my jacket. Wolf just stared at me with a curious expression as I began to walk away.

I looked over my shoulder at him. “Are you coming or what?”

“Yep.” I heard him respond followed by footsteps jogging up to meet me. “Where are we going?” He asked.

“To get Oliver.”

Oliver

Ethan had every right to be mad at me. I mean I did kiss him, and then we fooled around on the couch, and then I practically pushed him away like some leper.

Why was it so difficult for me to just let myself have feelings for him? He was such a good guy, polite, nice to me, he cared for me too. Although I couldn’t distinguish if he actually cared for me, or he cared for me because it was part of his job. The more I thought about though, the more it seemed like that first one was true.

God and how wounded he looked last night and again this morning. It literally gutted me to see him like that. I did that to him and I felt extremely guilty over it.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” I mumbled to myself as I flopped back onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling.

Would it honestly be so bad if I just let myself explore this thing, whatever it was, with Ethan? I mean, what was the worst that could happen?

Rapid knocking at my front door had me jumping and jerking my gaze over the back of the couch towards door. My heart leapt as did my body off the couch as I hustled to do the door. I hoped it was Ethan who came back to talk about what happened. However, when I opened the door, my smile quickly faded when I realized it was Gavin.

“Oh, it’s you.” I said glumly.

He glared at me. “Normally, I would be more offended, but we have bigger issues.”

He walked into the house and I closed the door. I turned around to face him and folded my arms across my chest, giving him an amused look.

“What? Did you sleep with another married man?”

“That was one time Ollie and no. Have you not been watching the news?”

I shook my head. “Should I?”

He didn’t answer, instead he walked into my living room and grabbed the remote to the tv. He flicked it on and turned it to channel six, where there was a news report happening.

“It seems Samantha Schaefer has struck again.” He stated, turning the volume up.

“More news surrounding the vicious murders that have been rocking the city Portland for the past few weeks. Reports have taken to calling the murderer the Stumptown Stalker, and that’s not all. A recent report by Portland Post reporter Samantha Schaefer, details how the latest victim has ties to a member of the Portland Police Bureau…”

I froze on the spot, my stomach dropping and my blood turning to ice. I watched the TV in shock as Samantha Schaefer came onto the screen in an interview.

“The latest victim, Rebecca Harris, was found with a photo of Angela Reagan, who was a very prominent socialite and philanthropist. She’s also coincidently the mother of the criminal profiler, Doctor Oliver Reagan, who was working this case…”

“I hate her, but goddamn does she have amazing hair.” Gavin stated with hands on his hips.

I didn’t respond. I was too busy trying to digest what the hell just happened. Everyone in the city now knew who I was, even worse, they all knew that somehow the killer was tied to me. This was a nightmare.

I sat on the arm of the couch and stared at the tv, not quite registering what was even being said anymore. There was this feeling in my stomach that made me feel like I was going to hurl. I wanted to just disappear. I had spent so much of my life trying to separate myself from this tragedy and had finally done so, only for one reporter to bring it back to the surface and effectively smear the reputation I had worked so hard to build. No one would look at me the same again. This was essentially the whole reason I had to leave LA, only this time was so much worse worse.

“Ollie?” I heard the concern in Gavin’s voice as he spoke.

I swallowed a dry lump in my throat. “I’m fine.” I lied.

“No you’re not, you look like you’re going to pass out.”

I felt a firm hand on my shoulder and his concerned gaze appear in front of my face. I shook my head adamantly.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

Would I though? Or was I seeing everything I worked so hard for implode before my very eyes?

“Hey,” his grip on my shoulder tightened, forcing me to meet his gaze. “This is just like what happened in LA, albeit a little worse because instead of a small group of people knowing it’s like seven hundred thousand-“

“Not helping Gavin.” I glared.

He clamped his mouth shut and then took a deep breath. “All I’m saying, is that you made it through this before, you can do it again.”

He stated it so confidently that I wanted to believe him, but it was hard to. I felt like I was seventeen years old again and having to move to disappear because of the media circus that surrounded my parents murder. Why couldn’t this whole thing just go away?

Heavy footsteps had me turning my body slightly and my stomach gave a pleasant flip as I saw Ethan walk into the living room, Wolf following close behind. He had this strange look about him, a worried look. Was he worried about me?

“I take it you saw the news?” Gavin asked.

Ethan shook his head, his gaze never leaving me. “It was on the front page of The Post.”

Gavin scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. “Of course it was.”

Ethan and I continued to look at each other. I wanted desperately to run over to him and have him wrap his arms around me and just hold me. Maybe he could shield me from all of this. What would Gavin and Wolf say though? I think it was safe to say that we didn’t need anymore scandal right now.

“So what’s the plan then?” I asked.

“I’m still trying to figure that out,” Ethan began, running his fingers through his hair and blowing out a gust of air. “I don’t think we can keep you here though.”

“Why not?” Gavin asked.

“Well, the whole city is already on edge with a serial killer on the loose…” Wolf began.

“And now that the public knows that Oliver is connected to the last victim-“ Ethan continued.

“People are going to be lighting their torches.” I concluded.

Ethan stared at me for a second, his expression going stern, almost assertive. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

When he said those words I felt it in my chest, and my heart leaped at them. Ethan cared about me, and sure he didn’t say it outright, but I could feel it in the way he spoke. That realization made me feel, well, I couldn’t really put it into words. But I felt grounded, more sure.

The past couple of days, with everything going on, had made me feel small and backed into a corner, like I was going to snap at any second and go off the rails. Now, I really felt like I wasn’t alone in all of this. Now, I felt like maybe there was some hope in all of this.

“Okay,” I crossed my arms over my chest. “So what’s the plan?”