Chapter 19: I’ve Finally Found You (Kane) - Once I Find You

When she comes back, I’m already getting myself into her small bed, which must be fucking twin-sized. It’s fine. I can’t leave, even if I’ll be uncomfortable all night. I don’t even think I’ll be able to leave her again at this point.

She climbs in beside me, and I wrap my arm around her to hold her while we lay on our sides. “Sorry, my bed is probably a little small.”

A little?

“It’s fine, sweetheart. Just sleep.” No sarcastic comments out loud tonight. Right now, all she needs is comfort, and fuck, it sounds nice to let myself relax for once.

* * *

I open my eyes again; the sun shining through the wide windows beside the bed. I forgot I wasn’t home last night. Actually…I don’t think I’ve slept in a bed with anyone like this. I have always avoided it for obvious reasons. It creates too many expectations. For which I’ve accidentally created way too fucking many of last night.

When I try to sit up, she quickly stirs and turns around toward me half-asleep. “Kane?”

“I’m here. Sleep more,” I whisper, leaning down and resting my forehead onto hers.

“I’m scared you won’t be here when I wake up again.”

Fuck, this was all a horrible idea. I can’t even fucking process all the different reasons that I shouldn’t have done any of this. When she looks up at me like that, I break. How the hell does she do that to me? “I’m not leaving yet. I’m going to make breakfast, because I’m starving.”

“Oh…I’m not sure what there is,” she says as she sits up, rubbing her eyes.

I walk over to her fridge, and I am fucking appalled. There are some diet sodas, a few random juices, some leftover cupcakes, a jar of pickles, and eggs. I turn to her and she looks down, scratching her head. Surely her fucking cabinets have something, right?

Oh, I was very wrong. This woman has the largest box of instant ramen I’ve ever seen, and maybe some random canned fruits. Jesus fucking Christ. “You really don’t have groceries?”

“Well…they’re expensive right now. I usually have ramen or…leftovers from the bakery. Sometimes I order takeout.” She shrugs and walks around the small island and puts her elbows down on it, leaning over to rest her head on her hands.

“Little girl, this is not how you live. I’m going to fix it, and you’re going to make sure you eat real food. Got it?” I can’t believe I even have to tell her this.

“Okay daddy,” she replies with a smile on her face.

“Careful,” I warn, pointing my finger at her. I cannot fuck her again until I figure this all out. She watches as I take out her carton of eggs and decide I might as well do something with what she has here. It’s done pretty fast, and I plate it and slide it over to her.

I plate my own, leaning back against the opposing counter as I eat. The sunlight streams through the windows, and a ray shoots directly onto her. Her bright hair glows perfectly against the light, and it suits her. She’s completely unaware of my gaze, and enjoying the food after a night of drinking, I’m sure.

God, she’s beautiful. She’s definitely too good for someone like me. Or anyone. I can’t imagine even one fucking man who could deserve someone like her. How will she even meet anyone genuine when she’s this trusting?

On the other hand…I can’t keep her just because of that. Her entire existence is a can of worms, just waiting to pop. If I don’t stop it, I’m not sure how much longer I can last without being unmasked. I can’t be as hopeful as Mason; thinking I can just stop the killings and go about my life, as if everyone else will stop caring or looking for me.

My hole has been dug deep, and it’s only a matter of time I’m placed in it.

“I think I might have rubbed my friend’s new girlfriend the wrong way last night,” she blurts out to break the silence, staring sadly at her phone screen now.

“Yeah?”

“Ugh, it’s just, she seemed familiar, so I kept insisting, and I was so drunk I was a mess.” She sighs into her hands, shaking her head before removing them again. “I should apologize, right? I mean I was just trying to be friendly because I was excited for Crystal, but I think I’m a bit much for some people sometimes. I’m a little hyper.”

“Who cares? You shouldn’t apologize for being yourself. You can apologize for being wasted, but not that. If she has a problem with your personality, then she’s the one who has to adapt.”

“Okay, maybe you’re right. Thank you.” She smiles, and lets out a relieved sigh now.

She needs a lot of reassurance. And attention. And help.

Fuck, it gets harder and harder to just wash my hands of this.

“Oh, so, what should we do about the…um, you know,” she asks awkwardly, pointing slightly down.

Double fuck. I forgot all about that. Why did I even forget that last night? I must really have started to lose my mind with my age. I can’t get a girl pregnant at thirty-nine. I look back at her, and her sweet face stares back, waiting. Her chocolate brown eyes search mine, and her soft, pink lips pucker slightly as she thinks. God, it felt good to be inside her. To fill her with my…

No. Absolutely fucking not. I can’t believe I even let myself imagine her pregnant with my child. I need to distance myself, at least until I figure out her threat level. Once I have time to assess and neutralize whatever potential damage she’s caused online, I can figure out what to do with her.

“Well, that’s up to you. Do you want me to take you to the pharmacy? I can get the pill for you.”

“Is that what you think I should do?”

Fuck, don’t ask me what I’m thinking. “I can’t tell you what to do with your body, sweetheart. It isn’t up to me at all. I’m just going to help if you need it.”

“I don’t know…Do you think it’s okay not to do that?”

God, I don’t think I have ever in my life had such a primal desire like this. “It’s fine. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Okay, I’ll wait then. It’s probably not gonna happen anyway, right?”

Right. I nod. It isn’t gonna happen, Kane. Don’t try to delude yourself into thinking you deserve a family. You lost your chance at family, and your fucking privilege of having one.

Change the damn subject. “Why don’t you go ahead and show me those forums? While I’m here.”

“Oh! That’s right!” She walks over to her coffee table, grabbing her laptop and notebook and bringing it over to the island. “Um, I guess I’m a little embarrassed by it, but it has everything I collected over the last year. My notes and ideas and how I figured out your pattern,” she says awkwardly, biting her lip as she hands over the thick book.

I open it, and shit. It really does have everything. Every newspaper clipping, some printed out online news articles, and a bunch of information on each victim, including their photo. I look up at her, and she quickly stands straighter.

“What? It’s weird, right?”

“You did all this, Layla?”

“Um, yeah.” She seems embarrassed, like it’s shameful to have done all this work. But how?

When I look at her, I don’t see this wildly intelligent mastermind of an investigator. But she is exactly that… “To find me?” The question leaves my lips before I can stop myself.

“Yes. To find you.” She smiles and fuck I can’t help it. I grab the back of her head with my hand and smash my lips onto hers. It’s rough and messy, and I take her bottom lip between my teeth as I pull back. When I look back down at her, her lips are partly swollen, and her eyes slightly dazed.

“You did a really good job,” I tell her, and she smiles, and she lays her head against my upper arm.

“Thank you.”

I won’t forget how furious I am over how she physically found me…but this is just impressive. She’s brilliant. Her talent is being wasted here, in this shitty town, in her shitty apartment, stuck being an employee instead of having the resources to follow her dreams. For someone like her to have been failed by the system and left to drown on her own…

She opens the laptop and loads up whatever website this is. I’ve certainly never heard of it. “So, basically, there’s like, thousands of forums on here. It’s specifically meant for true crime, so you can follow whatever groups people have made for different cases or people. I’m in eleven different ones about The Hangman. So, each is a little different anyway, some focus on theories or facts, or just all-around discussion. Here.” She turns the screen toward me and steps back.

I sigh, pulling it forward so I can look through it. She’s not fucking kidding. There are hundreds of comments on most of these posts, and thousands of people following each group. Are people seriously that obsessed with true crime?

“I deleted everything I needed to, but there are a lot of people who are all posting their own theories too. I mean, most people love you, obviously, but there are definitely some who don’t or…maybe police check these too. I don’t know.”

Yeah, I’m sure the police are all over this shit. Which is bad, because if she’s posted before, she might already be on some list. The question is if police have any real leads. If my photo had done it, I’m sure they’d have come for me already. They wouldn’t wait me out, they’d make a big show of tracking me down and arresting me.

“So?” Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I sigh.

“So, I don’t know, Layla. I’m not seeing anything terribly convincing anyone has posted, I guess. I have a lot I have to figure out.”

“About the killings? Or me?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, the killings. I don’t know…how to just stop.”

“But you want to?”

I look at her, and my answer feels obvious. Like I’m a fucking idiot for even considering that there’s anything else I could ever want besides her. But I’ve become The Hangman. I’ve dedicated my last few years embodying this role and…slowly losing myself in the process. But I didn’t give a fuck, because this is important. It was important. Suddenly I have something new to live for, really live for. I don’t have to just go through the motions and punish myself anymore.

I’m aware of the implications that come with being known as a serial killer. How many as well-known as me have actually gotten away with it? Maybe one? Two? It’s unrealistic. But I knew exactly what I was getting into. If you asked me last month, I’d say fuck it, take me to jail and throw away the key.

But now? I have Layla. I can’t disappoint her. I don’t want to disappoint her. I know damn well I don’t deserve her, but that won’t stop me from hoping that I can feel this forever. She looks at me and sees the man I always aspired to be.

“I don’t have a choice. If I don’t stop now, more shit might come out. The photo was damning enough, and now that I’ve seen those forum discussions, I don’t think I can go on. I only would have to hope no one can figure me out as easily as you did with whatever information is still up.”

She nods, looking up and around like she’s deep in thought, though she doesn’t say anything immediately. She looks down, twiddling her hands. “So…hypothetically, if I said someone may also have come to some of the same conclusions as me and…I may have accidentally said Peter Reed’s name to them…how bad would that be?”

I run my hand down my face. “Are you being serious, Layla?”

“Um, well, I wasn’t sure how to tell you, but I promised to tell you everything so…yeah. I’m sorry. But honestly, I don’t think she actually knows. She’s just…intense.”

I should have known it had been too good to be true. I already knew I had to be worried about her telling someone before, and I had decided not to dwell on it. But that was fucking wrong.

“Are you mad?”

“Yes,” I reply.

“Please don’t be mad. I’m sorry! It was before we met and…I messed up. I took it back but honestly, she just didn’t believe me. I convinced her that I was⁠—”

“Layla, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Yes, sir,” she says sweetly, trying to give me those puppy eyes.

This girl is my worst fucking nightmare. “Lucky for you, I have to get back to the shop to help Mason. But this isn’t over, got it? You’re still in trouble, little girl.”

She watches me as I slide my shirt back on and fill my pockets with the crap I laid out before bed. “Just…don’t do anything else, okay? Be good.” She nods, walking over to me and going up on her toes to kiss my cheek. I tilt my head down and our lips meet, and she lowers herself back down.

I walk to the door, and leaving her here is…hard. I have the impending feeling that something will happen to her. But I can’t just insist more, either. This is new and confusing. All I know is that I need to not let what happened in my past repeat itself.

I get to my truck, but as I open the door my phone dings. I assume it’s her, of course, so I smile to myself as I pull it from my back pocket.

But…it isn’t. It’s an unknown number and attached is a picture. Of me. Outside of Layla’s apartment.