Chapter Thirty: The Person Who Knew We Found It
1322 Words
Harper
I should have felt relieved.
The phone proved Gavin had lied to Natalie too. It proved I hadn’t imagined the apartment, the countdown, or the future he kept placing in front of me.
Instead, I felt worse.
Because the messages also proved he had never intended to choose between us.
He had only needed both of us to keep believing we had already won.
Cole removed the phone from my hand.
“I’m taking this.”
I looked up. “No.”
“It needs to stay somewhere secure.”
“I found the passcode.”
“That doesn’t make it yours.”
“Nothing was ever mine. You’ve made that clear.”
His expression tightened.
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“It’s always what you mean.”
I reached for the phone, but he moved it out of reach.
“Harper, this belongs to Gavin’s estate.”
“Then give it to Natalie.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’ll read everything.”
A bitter laugh escaped me.
“You’re worried about her reading the truth?”
“I’m worried about her reading it alone.”
The answer stopped me.
Cole looked toward Gavin’s empty locker.
“She just buried him. Her children still think he was a hero in every part of his life.”
“He was their hero.”
“And these messages could change how they remember him.”
“So we protect another one of his lies?”
“No.”
“Then what are we doing?”
“I don’t know yet.”
It was the first time I had heard Cole admit that without turning his uncertainty into anger.
The station was silent around us. Marcus had stayed upstairs, giving us privacy neither of us had requested.
I looked at the phone in Cole’s hand.
“Send me copies of my messages.”
“I will.”
“All of them.”
“Yes.”
“And the messages about me.”
He hesitated.
“All of them, Cole.”
“I said I will.”
I folded Gavin’s list of dates and placed it inside the black case.
Cole watched me.
“What are you going to do with the letter?”
“What letter?”
“The one you were writing to Natalie.”
I looked away.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t send it tonight.”
“You don’t have to keep saying that.”
“I don’t trust you not to act while you’re angry.”
“You don’t trust me at all.”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
At least it was honest.
“But I don’t trust myself either,” he added.
I looked at him.
Cole placed the phone on the workbench.
“I spent months telling Gavin to fix this. I never told Natalie. I never told you. I let him convince me that interfering would only make everything worse.”
“It probably would have.”
“Not this bad.”
His bandaged hand closed around the edge of the bench.
“If Natalie had known the truth, maybe he would have been home the night of the fire.”
The words were so quiet I almost didn’t hear them.
“You think this is your fault?”
“He took the shift because he didn’t want to go home.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”
My chest tightened.
“Why didn’t he want to go home?”
“They had argued.”
“About me?”
Cole nodded.
The guilt on his face was immediate.
I wanted to blame him.
A week earlier, I would have.
But Gavin had chosen the shift. Gavin had entered the house. Gavin had pushed Cole toward the stairs.
“You didn’t make him go into that fire.”
“He died getting me out.”
“That doesn’t make you responsible.”
His eyes lifted sharply.
“You don’t know what happened.”
“I know he chose to save you.”
“And his children lost their father because of it.”
I stepped closer before I realized I was moving.
“Would you rather he had watched you die?”
Cole said nothing.
The muscles in his jaw tightened.
“That wouldn’t have brought him home to them,” I said.
“You don’t get to make me feel better about this.”
“I’m not trying to.”
“Then stop.”
His voice struck through the bay.
I stepped back.
There he was again.
The man who turned every open wound into a weapon before anyone else could touch it.
“Fine.”
I grabbed my purse.
Cole exhaled.
“Harper.”
“I said fine.”
I walked toward the side door.
My phone vibrated.
The sound stopped both of us.
Unknown number.
I opened the message.
**You found it.**
Cold moved through my body.
Cole crossed the bay.
“Show me.”
I held out the screen.
A second message arrived.
**Now you know what he thought of you.**
Cole looked toward the stairs.
“Marcus!”
Marcus appeared almost immediately.
“What?”
Cole showed him the message.
Marcus went pale.
“You said no one knew the phone was here,” Cole said.
“No one did.”
“Gavin knew,” I whispered.
Both men looked at me.
“And whoever he was messaging,” I continued. “They knew Marcus had the case.”
Marcus shook his head. “The messages never mentioned me.”
“They didn’t have to.”
Cole looked around the station.
The empty engine bay.
The dark kitchen.
The stairs leading to the sleeping quarters.
Someone knew we had opened the phone.
Not tomorrow.
Not after we confronted anyone.
Now.
“Who else is in the building?” Cole asked.
“Walsh is home. Dean and Alvarez are on the engine. It’s only me.”
Cole’s gaze moved to the security camera above the bay doors.
“Does that work?”
Marcus followed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Who has access?”
“The captain. Administration.”
“And remotely?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Some of the officers.”
“Gavin?”
“He did.”
Cole looked at the second phone.
“Could someone still be using his account?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone vibrated again.
This message contained a photograph.
Cole, Marcus, and I stood beside the workbench, gathered around Gavin’s phone.
The picture had been taken from above.
From the station’s security camera.
Beneath it were five words.
**You should have left him buried.**
Cole took my phone.
For the first time since I had met him, there was no judgment in his face when he looked at me.
Only alarm.
“You’re not going home alone.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“This person can see you inside the station.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“They knew where you lived. They knew about the storage unit. They know you’re here now.”
Marcus looked toward the dark windows.
“Cole’s right.”
I hated that they were.
“I’m not staying here.”
“You’re coming with me,” Cole said.
I stared at him.
“That is not happening.”
“Then I’m staying at your apartment.”
“That’s worse.”
“Pick one.”
Even frightened, he was infuriating.
I snatched my phone back.
“You don’t get to order me around.”
Cole placed Gavin’s phone inside the case and tucked it beneath his arm.
“Argue in the truck.”
He started toward the door.
I stayed where I was.
Cole looked back.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then the station lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the bay.
Somewhere above us, a door slammed.
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