Winter Kill - lanyon Josh (книга жизни txt) 📗

“I never heard anyone call him that.”

“Azure called him that.” Here was a weird thing. Rob felt zero pity for Bert Berkle, yet Bill Constantine had been just as fucked up in his own way. He had killed people, ruined lives. So why did Rob feel…the way he felt? Like he could have—should have— done something, done more.

Adam said thoughtfully, “Frankie and her mandatory strip search.”

“He must have panicked,” Rob agreed.

“I imagine so. It would be his DNA under Azure’s fingernails.”

“Frankie says Buck is swearing he’s going to sue. He claims that even if Bill stole the artifacts, he would never have killed anyone.”

“That’s to be expected.”

Was it? Probably. Recognizing that someone you loved was insane would be hard enough. Believing them capable of murder?

“He was there for Dove’s autopsy. You may not have noticed him. He was assisting Doc Cooper.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed, but there was no recognition. He nodded.

“I planned to stop by and talk to him last night,” Rob said. “If I had—

“I’d be dead,” Adam said.

Rob’s eyes flashed to his.

“Listen, Rob. You can’t save everybody,” Adam said quietly. “I know what you’re feeling right now, but it’s the truth. And if I didn’t say it before, thank you for saving my life.”

“He was sick,” Rob said. “I know that. He left a nine page letter to Tiffany explaining everything, but it sounds like it’s just a bunch of rambling nonsense. It seems like maybe he thought her mother was preventing them from being together. But that’s a guess. It’s all guesswork because Frankie says Tiffany regained consciousness last night, but she still doesn’t remember anything. Or says she doesn’t.”

“That’s probably the best thing that could happen to her.” Adam’s tone was noncommittal. But then he’d suspected Tiffany of having a crush on Bill at one time. That was another thing they would probably never know the truth about.

“Bill wrote in that letter that when he saw Koletar’s skeleton, he knew he’d been murdered, and he couldn’t get it out of his head. He became obsessed with death and dying.”

Adam said almost gently, “You’re not going to understand this, you know. You’re not going to find logic in madness.”

“Yeah, I know.” It was hard to say it aloud, but Adam was probably the only person he could admit this to. “I feel like I should have done something more.”

“You did what you could with the facts available to you at the time.” Adam held out a shaky arm. “Come here,” he said.

All this sympathy from Adam made Rob feel foolish, but he joined him on the bed, and was reassured and comforted by the strength of the arm that wrapped around his shoulders.

  They sat there for some time. So long and so quietly, he thought maybe Adam had fallen asleep, but when he glanced over, Adam was frowning into space.

He heard himself say, “What if you didn’t go?”

Adam’s brows drew together. He opened his mouth. He said, “What if you came to L.A.?”

“The thing is, I’ve tried living in a city. It’s not for me.” Rob smiled. “Anyway, it’s not going to be L.A. for long, is it? It’ll be Virginia. Quantico.”

“I don’t know. I hope so.” Adam said hesitantly, “Even if I didn’t take the BAU job… What would I do here? Let’s say I tried to get a transfer to Portland. Even if they had an opening, even if I could get in there—and I don’t know that I can. I probably can’t. It would still be a lot of commuting back and forth.”

“Not as far a commute as Quantico. Or even L.A.”

“No.”

Rob stared out the window. “No. I know this isn’t fair. It would be crazy not to take the job. You’ve been working for this, waiting for this. And now it’s here.” He tried to joke, “Anyway, I guess I can’t in good conscience ask you to live in the serial killer capital of Oregon.”

“It is a lot to ask of a G-man.” Adam’s effort at humor was equally weak. He said, “I don’t believe in long distance relationships. But…maybe we could try.”

“Long distance relationship. Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?”

“Yes,” Adam said a little bitterly. “But we could try.”

Rob pulled away from him, carefully. He didn’t want to hurt Adam. Not in any way. Not ever. “Is this because of the colleague you got involved with? The relationship that ended badly?”

“Yes.” Adam’s mouth twisted. “I have to take my share of the responsibility though. We were having problems. We were both ambitious, both preoccupied with our careers. Me in particular. He was transferred to Washington. State, that is. And we agreed that it might be good for us to have a little time apart, a little space. But…I never had any doubt that we were going to work it out. I thought… But he phoned the first week and said he’d met someone else. That he knew this was the guy.”

“How could he know that?” What Rob was thinking was, the first time I met you, I knew you were the guy. A one way street, it seemed. “Did the other guy feel the same?”

“I guess he did. They’re still together.” Adam said, “So I don’t have a lot of faith in long distance. But we could try. It’s not ideal, but I…care for you. I don’t know how it happened so fast. We don’t really know each other. And that’s what I mean. We should take it slow, get to know each other a lot better before we…” His voice trailed.

Take it, Rob told himself. It’s the best offer you’ll get. It’s the only offer you’ll get.

He was dismayed to hear himself saying, “Okay. But best case scenario is that eventually we’re going to have this conversation again, right? Sooner or later aren’t we going to be back at this point?”

Adam rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. We’ve known each other all of five days. We’re discussing…well, what are we discussing?”

“Retiring together in about twenty years?” It wasn’t really funny though.

Adam looked pained. “I can’t turn this job down, Rob. I’ve got to take it. This kind of opportunity only comes once. If it comes at all.”

“I know.”

“But it doesn’t mean that I can’t have a personal life. Planes fly both ways across the country.”

“Yep. They do.”

“We could figure out some kind of schedule. It won’t be easy, but if it’s important to both of us, we can make it work.”

“Yes. We should be able to do that.”

“We don’t have to decide this now,” Adam said. “Right?”

“Right,” Rob reassured.

But he knew—they both knew—the decision had already been made.

Epilogue

A man travels the world over in search of what he needs, and returns home to find it.

That had been the message on Cynthia Joseph’s wall, and maybe there was some truth to it, but when Adam’s front door closed behind him and he dropped his carryall, he wasn’t searching for much beyond a shower and a good sleep.

He still felt frustratingly weak, and the effort of carrying his own luggage had left him shaking and drenched in sweat. That was probably the reason for his inexplicable depression.

Not totally inexplicable. He already missed Rob. Badly.

He was glad to be home, of course. Grateful for sunshine and the absence of snow, glad for peace and privacy. But surely home was more than a supply of hot water, clean towels, and a safe place to sleep.

Of course it was. And one day he would recapture that…feeling he’d had with Rob.

One thing he did not believe—had never believed—was that there was only one right person for anyone. Soulmates? He didn’t buy into that concept. But there was no denying he had felt something for Rob he’d never experienced with anyone else. Not even with Tucker, who he’d always thought of as the one who got away.

What he did believe—had learned the hard way—was that timing was everything. Life did not guarantee second chances. Sometimes you only got one shot.

Which was why he was so happy—yes, happy—about this job with the BAU. Why he had to take it. Why he could not, must not, turn down this opportunity. Kennedy was offering him his life back. He would be on track once more. Reputation restored, future reinstated. The work would be challenging and absorbing—and he’d be doing it with Jonnie instead of Russell.