Ok, I might be slightly obsessing over what took place this evening. Or more accurately, yesterday's evening, since it was already 2.30 in the morning. Only now, lying in bed, I realized how much it scared me seeing Lukas like that. I've seen worse when it comes to psychotic breaks. I've talked to murderers and arsonists. Psychopaths and sociopaths. But nothing made the hairs on my neck stand up quite like the blood dripping from his palm and the look of absolute despair on his face. When I first met him, hell even two days ago, when I could firmly state that I knew him quite well, I would never have imagined that he would ever let his walls down enough for me to see him cry and hold him while he does it.
I fell asleep at 3.40 with the feeling of his lips on mine.
X
Coming to work a week after, felt good in a way. I haven't tried contacting Lukas, knowing he will still be greaving, so I just wanted to make sure he was ok. I stepped in our office, where everything was tidy again like nothing ever happened. I sat behind the computer and stared at the clock. In four minutes it will be eight.
When five minutes passed and Lukas hadn't shown up, I got a little bit restless, because he was never late, but also didn't think much of it. It can happen to him too.
When ten minutes passed I still didn't want to be too quick to freak out. "Maybe there was traffic," even though I knew for a fact there wasn't any.
After thirty minutes I got worried and after an hour, scared.
After two, I called him. Nothing. I waited for another twenty minutes. Nothing.
It was 3 hours, 17 minutes, 6 unanswered calls and a dozen messages when I decided to go talk to Victoria.
She was in her office, reading something and only averting her eyes when I walked in.
"Yes?" she asked, a little surprised but not bothered.
"where is Lukas? Does he have another week off?"
I didn't care if he did, I was just angry that they didn't tell me.
"No. He went to Texas. To our mother."
There was a beat of silence when my brains tried to comprehend what was just said.
"Why?"
"He is still mourning. He needs more time."
"I understand that, but why go to his mother. I know they don't get along."
Victoria blinked, taken aback by that.
"He told you?"
"Yes."
"That is...strange. Well, if you already know everything I might as well tell you, that he went because he wanted to make amends. Grandma dying, was sort of a waking call for him. He realized that life is short and that he should appreciate the family he still has."
Make amends? Lukas? Everything sounded almost rehearsed and definitely not a very Lukas thing to do. Especially after he told me what his mother did.
"If you excuse me I should return to this."
"Oh, yes right. Of course."
A file was handed to me by a secretary as I passed by. A lawyer asked me to look at the assault charge.
It might keep me from thinking about everything else.
It didn't work, because I spent the next hour contemplating the probability of Victorias' statement. If it was true than Lukas was really with his mother, which meant he probably won't last long and will come home shortly.
Which was a more desirable option.
But if it was false, then...
Then I just don't know when I will see him again.
X
Three weeks went by and not a pip from Lukas. I was alone in the office preparing myself for another psychiatric evaluation. I had a bunch of those these days. Today, a police officer, who will probably in no way take me seriously.
I missed working on real cases, but without a partner that was not possible. I didn't expect how much I would miss it. Or maybe I just missed him, I don't know.
I leaned back into my chair, stretched my hands and gently massaged my left shoulder. It's been stiff all morning. I scanned around our office. Or I guess now it was mine. MY office. What a bitter after taste that had.
The worst thing was that I had no reason to doubt Luka's whereabouts. Even his father affirmed Victoria's story.
It was just a hunch really.
I almost laughed to myself. He wouldn't stand for that.
"Do you have any evidence?" I heard his doubtful voice say in my head.
"No, but it still doesn't fit," I murmured to myself.
I sighed and rubbed my face. My eyes got stuck on his empty chair again. An intense melancholy washed over me.
"Where are you?"
X
"How many dwarfs did Snowhite have?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Just answer the question, please."
"Seven."
I nodded.
"How many is 10 plus 13?"
He gave me a tired look but answered correctly.
"In what year was the declaration of independence signed?"
"Is this a history quiz?"
"Would you answer if it was or are you too embarrassed to admit you don't know."
He gave me a very self-satisfied smile.
"1776."
The evaluation has been going on about 20 minutes. And what I gathered by now was that officer McClain's memory was fine, that he was a little arrogant, but he hasn't shown any sign of PTSD. He was in a shooting last month and he has just come back from a three-week leave. He has already gone through the physical exam and passed with flying colours or so I hear. He was a little jittery, but mostly because of how impatient he was. He was also an arrogant fucker. And a handsome one at that.
"Have you ever received any psychological treatment since shooting?"
I looked very closely for any sign of discomfort, fear or panic in his body language at the mention of the shooting. Not even a flinch.
"Yes. I was sent to a therapist."
"The gun used was a semi-automatic nine millimetre, correct?"
Again, he didn't seem fazed at the mention of the weapon that almost killed him.
"And you were shot two times?"
He sighed in boredom.
"Three."
Nothing. Cool as champagne.
"Have you ever been out of the country?"
"What are these fucking questions?!"
A little too aggressive. But according to his file, this behaviour wasn't unusual.
"The quicker you answer, the sooner this questioning will be over."
"More like an interrogation."
"Then you should feel quite comfortable."
"Ha, witty."
"Answer the question please," I always tried using the most monotoned voice I had at these kinds of interviews.
"Yes."
"Would you go again?"
"Yes."
This question was usually used to see if someone was paranoid. It wasn't the question that mattered. Most of the people answered yes to the second one, what mattered was if they were lying. Especially if the answer to the first one was yes as well.
He wasn't lying. His posture was completely relaxed.
"Ok. You see a broken beautiful vase on a table. Beside it is glue and flowers. On the floor is a garbage can. What do you do?"
"This is so stupid."
"Mr McClaine..."
"Fine. Uh, I glue the vase back together and put the flowers in. Then I throw the glue in the trash."
I nodded.
"That's it. We are done."
I stood up and gave him my hand.
"Thank you for your cooperation."
He shook it.
"How did I do?"
"I will send the results to your captain."
I left the room.
It made me smile to remember when I asked Lukas this.
"Throw the vase in the trash and buy a new one. How does this count as psychology?"
That told me he was a practical person. Always looking for a more efficient solution. The logical solution, but not the most sentimental or empathetic one.
As soon as I saw McClain, as arrogant and impatient as he was, I knew he will glue the vase back together.
X
Four weeks and still no answers. Well, no answers I actually believed.
I came home after work in an extremely bad mood. I made a whole profile on this woman and then they just completely ignored it. Victoria came up to me at the end, saying she is adding me to her team. At least I hope that goes well.
I undressed and threw a T-Shirt and some sweatpants on. I jumped on the bed. I expected to fall asleep immediately, but I should have known better. there was this anxiety building up in my body I just couldn't get rid of. I sat up. My gaze travelled to with the bedsheet covered object. I sighed and pulled the sheet off. I delicately brushed my fingers over the keyboard and sat behind the piano. I haven't played in a while, which was a shame since it was a truly gorgeous instrument.
I took a deep breath and started playing Prelude in E minor Op. 28 No. 4 by Chopin. It was so relaxing, I didn't even hear Vanessa come in. She was leaning on the door frame, listening.
I stopped.
"No, please continue."
I did, but quieter.
"What's up?"
She seemed bothered by something.
"You first."
"I'm fine."
"Save it. You only play when you are upset. I haven't seen you do it since you broke up with Matt."
I stopped again and she sat beside me on the pianist's chair.
"Lukas disappeared."
"What?! When?!" there was a definite shock in her voice.
"Four weeks ago. He hasn't come to work and everyone keeps telling me he went to Texas with his mother, but I just...I don't buy it."
"His grandmother did die. Maybe he wanted to be with his family."
"Believe me, if you knew the situation, you would have believed me when I said that it didn't fit."
"Some things just don't make sense."
"Not with Lukas."
She threw a hand over my shoulder, so I leaned into her.
"I was thinking," I started after a few moments "Maybe you could trace his number."
She furrowed her eyebrows.
"I am pretty sure that isn't legal. Unless the police asks."
"But you could do it right?"
"Of course I could, piece of cake, but..."
"Please."
Maybe I was overreacting. It wasn't my business really, what Lukas did, but I hated not knowing. What if something happened to him?
She looked down and then squeezed my shoulder.
"I'll see what I can do."
I smiled at her and then kissed her cheek.
"Thank you, I love you."
"I know."
Her smile didn't reach her ears.
"What is it?"
She pulled her hand away.
"Isaac is coming home for a few months."
"That's great! He hasn't been here in forever. Margo will be so happy to see him."
Her face fell even more.
"Aron...Isaac is coming to introduce us to his fiance."
My stomach turned. I thought I was going to puke.
"They are getting married in a month."