All the Little Lights(90)

“You okay?” Elliott asked.

“I’m just . . . dizzy.”

“I should get her home,” Elliott said.

“We’re all going home,” John said.

“That’s a good idea,” Kent said, aggravated. He jingled the keys in his suit pocket before pulling them out. “Detective Thompson is out for blood. He thinks something isn’t right with Elliott and Catherine. He said he has a hunch,” he scoffed. “It is my professional advice that you take Elliott straight home. He shouldn’t be walking around in the dark anymore. You know, just in case anyone else goes missing.”

“This is serious, Kent,” Leigh snapped.

“Oh, I know. And it’s not over until that girl is found. And even then, it still might not be over. His anger isn’t helping, Leigh. Make sure he gets a handle on that.”

“Elliott,” Leigh said, as disappointed as she was surprised, “what happened in there?”

Elliott looked ashamed. “I tried. I tried everything. But they wouldn’t let up. One officer kept putting his finger in my face. After an hour, I backhanded it away.”

“Oh, for the love of . . .” She saw Elliott’s expression and touched his shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“Why are you letting a cop put his finger in Elliott’s face?” John asked Kent.

Kent sighed. “I told him to stop.”

“You riding with me or Aunt Leigh?” John asked.

“I drove his car here,” I said.

“You did?” Elliott asked, surprised.

“He shouldn’t be driving. Not after the night he’s had,” John said.

Elliott gestured to the sedan. “We’ll fit better in Aunt Leigh’s car.”

John nodded, seeming shocked Elliott didn’t put up a fight. “See you at home.”

Elliott opened my door, and I slid into Leigh’s back seat. The leather was cold against my jeans, but it subsided when Elliott sat beside me and pulled me close.

Leigh slammed the door and twisted the ignition. A small dream catcher hung from her key ring, the light glinting off the metal as it dangled just above her knee.

“I’ll drop Catherine off.”

“No,” Elliott blurted out. “I need to talk to her first.”

“So the house, then?” Leigh asked, exasperated.

“Yes, please,” he said.

I knew how he felt. There was so much to say, but I didn’t feel comfortable discussing any of it in the back seat of Leigh’s car.

Elliott held me close, tense and still shaking from his time at the police station. I couldn’t imagine what he’d been through, the things they’d asked and accused him of.

Leigh slowed as she turned into the drive, waiting for the automatic garage door to roll up enough for her to pull in.

“Don’t leave the house,” Leigh warned as we walked inside.

“I have to walk her home,” Elliott said, stopping just inside the threshold.

Leigh closed the door and locked it, pointing at her nephew’s chest. She was half his size but intimidating. “You listen to me, Elliott Youngblood. I’m either taking her home or she’s staying here, but you are not to leave this house. Do you understand me?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Aunt Leigh.”

She sighed. “I know. I’m just trying to keep you safe. Your mom should be here in a couple of hours.”

Elliott nodded, watching Leigh disappear down the hall, and then took my hand, leading me to his bedroom in the basement.

The old springs in Elliott’s bed squeaked when I sat on the edge, wrapping my arms around my middle. Elliott draped a blanket around my shoulders, and it was then I realized I was the one shaking.

He knelt in front of me, gazing up at me with his warm, russet eyes. “It wasn’t me.”

“I know,” I said simply.

“They . . . they had me answering the same questions over and over, in ways that had me so confused that at one point I was afraid I’d gone crazy and wasn’t remembering right. But I know I didn’t see Presley. I wasn’t anywhere near her house. It wasn’t me.”

He was saying the words more to himself than to me.

“Where did you go?” I asked. “After you left practice?”

He stood and shrugged. “I walked around, trying to think of what to do about leaving. I can’t not be with you, Catherine. I can’t leave you at that house alone. You refuse to leave, so I was trying to think of a solution. You keep saying you’re not good for me, that you’re trying to protect me. You even tried to break up with me once. I was trying to clear my head and think of some way to talk you out of it.”

“You’re a person of interest in a disappearance, Elliott. This is the last thing—”

“It’s the only thing!” he said, working to rein in his temper. He took a deep breath, walked away a few steps, and then returned. “I was sitting in that white room with white floors and white furniture, feeling like I was suffocating. I was thirsty, hungry, and afraid. I just kept thinking of all the little lights on our street and what it felt like to walk down it holding your hand, in and out of the darkness. Nothing they could say could change that. Nothing anyone can do can take that away from us. Except you. And you love me, I know you do. I just can’t figure out why you won’t let me in.”