Let Me In - Adam Nicholls (e book reader pdf .TXT) 📗

If he could fall any deeper into his own mind he would surely drown. Morgan made trips from the far wall, taking fold-out chairs with him, and carried them into the center of the hall before collapsing them into uncomfortable seats. He did this on autopilot, his mind working away like a great machine while the only present part of him was the pain in his lower back. It was caused partly by age, partly by a tree-climbing mishap when he was a kid. Whatever the main cause, the fact remained: it was aggressively uncomfortable.

The last time he’d been in this room, a serial killer had been in here with him, hidden among the audience, Gary and his wife, and even Rachel. The fact he’d gotten so close caused a whole load of concern for Morgan. Knowing one of them could be attacked at any given minute was anything but comforting. Morgan had learned enough to know that pretty—no, beautiful—women were more likely to become targets. He was no psychological analyst, but the fact their faces had been sliced open suggested a more personal aggression. Pairing that with what Matthew had said, the murders looked like a twisted case of jealousy. That was the short version anyway, but the same sickening feeling turned in Morgan’s stomach nonetheless.

“Something on your mind?”

Starting at the soft voice, Morgan turned from his bent-over position to see Rachel grab two chairs from the far wall. She returned with a large smile on her face, her pale cheeks rising into little bumps where her cheekbones were. She started to unfold the chairs.

“I’m fine,” Morgan said, though he was anything but. He checked his watch again—two hours since he’d last spoken with Gary, but he had yet to hear anything. He went on to check his cell phone, which had the same disappointing result. All he could do was settle into the moment and try to clear his head while he waited. “All ready for your event?”

Rachel nodded, snapped open a wooden chair, and lined it up with the others, completing the sixth long row. Until now she’d been in the back, preparing her latest speech and directing the volunteers. Keeping herself busy, as always. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You’ll be fine.”

She hesitated, and Morgan caught the last second of a nervous exhale.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Rachel paused, then smiled a perfect white smile. “Nothing.”

It didn’t fool him. Morgan had been married to her for too long to let that go unnoticed. Finishing off the chair, he placed it to one side and approached her. He took her hand and sat down, encouraging her to do the same on the seat beside him. “Something’s up, and if you can’t tell me, then who can you tell?”

Placing one warm hand on top of his, she reset her breath, and then looked him dead in the eye. The stare wasn’t cold—in fact it was warm and sympathetic—but it posed as a kind of curtain that flew open to reveal a hidden truth. “It’s your job.”

Morgan had an idea of where this was going, but he kept a lid on it.

“This whole DC Carver thing is making me nervous. It was okay for a little while, and I even pushed you into pursuing it, but when we found out he was in here with us…” She looked around the hall, her large, stunning eyes roaming the vacant space, the walls, the ceiling. “It was a big night for me, and it all came crashing down because he wanted to take Emma. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and the more I do, the more I realize how selfish I am.”

Morgan firmed his grip on her hand, caressing her skin with his thumb. “You’re not selfish, honey. Far from it. I mean, look around you. You think all those kids would be better off without all of this? You’ve given most of them a second chance. You’ve spread awareness of their struggles. They need you, and you’re always there for them.”

Rachel shook her head. “It’s not that.”

“It’s not?”

“Emma Cole gets swiped out from under our noses, and all I can think about is how it ruined my big night. I feel like a monster. Now here we are, the second in a big series of charity events, and I’m anxious about something similar happening. The worst part? It’s not even worry for the other victim—it’s that selfish kind of worry.”

Tipping his head forward, Morgan kissed her hand. “What can I do?”

Rachel paused, biting her lip like she had something to say. When she finally spoke, it felt as though she’d discarded the idea and elected to say something else. “You love your job, and I’m always here for you. I can’t expect you to control where the killer goes, and that’s what makes me so nervous. The thing is, I don’t want anything to change.”

“With us?”

She shrugged, her cheeks turning red as she fanned her eyes to keep her makeup from running. “With us. With you. I guess I just wanted to express my feelings without you thinking you had to stop chasing that guy. You have a big heart, that’s no secret, but you have to persevere. If not for Emma’s sake, then for your own.”

Morgan didn’t entirely understand what she was trying to tell him. Women were often a mystery to him, and although Rachel was less so, he could only barely grasp the message she was putting across: she felt like a bad person. It wasn’t really about his work, and it wasn’t even really about hers. The tears she was fighting against were a product of her guilt, and the guilt came from her own feelings that the spotlight had been removed from her.

At least, that was what he thought.

But it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. She’d been working hard to help others for as long as he’d known her, and she’d never asked for a thing in return. Not even acknowledgement. Fast-forward a few years and she was still determined as ever, only now she finally got to give a grand speech about how far HUCINS had come, and what had happened? Some lunatic kidnapped an innocent woman and ruined the whole damn thing.

It was crazy, but he got it.

“Keep doing what you’re doing,” Morgan told her as he leaned in to wipe a stray tear from her cheek, vaguely aware of a familiar shape looming in the doorway. “Everyone knows how incredibly well you’re doing, and you don’t need a speech to fix that. I’m so, so proud of you, and everyone here is too.”

Rachel laughed through a fresh tear. “There’s nobody here, Morgan.”

“True, but you know what I mean.”

They chuckled together, her momentary misery washing from the atmosphere like a wave had taken it from the shore and carried it out to sea, far away from them. Rachel rested her head on his shoulder, sniffled, and sighed. “Thank you.”

Morgan brushed wisps of hair over her ear, enjoying the last few moments of warmth while the breeze crept in from outside. And the figure in the doorway? He was still there, probably waiting for the right time to interrupt. Morgan knew it had to come, and while he cherished this moment with the woman he loved, the compulsion to speak