Free Dark Mysteries by Jessica Gadziala

he said as they made their way to
the table.
    “Oh,”
Ellie said, looking down and laughing a little, not having realized
she did anything weird. “Impressed with my server skills, huh?”
she asked, laying the plates down on the small round table.
    “Immeasurably,”
he said, his tone dry. “So Ellie,” he said, watching her
pick at the corn muffin, “tell me about yourself.”
    Ellie
looked down at her food, suddenly not feeling very hungry. She knew
it was coming. He was going to ask eventually. “How exactly is
someone supposed to answer that question?” she asked, hedging.
“I mean... without sounding self-centered?”
    Xander
made a snorting noise and shrugged. “You're supposed to tell me
about your home life, your hobbies, why you moved to the city. That
kind of thing.”
    Ellie
sighed quietly. “I was raised by my father. He's was a cop.
Wasn't around a lot the older I got. I took up reading, obviously.
And I moved because I just... needed something new I guess.”
    “No
college?”
    “I
started,” she admitted, feeling a bit of shame well up. “I
didn't finish.”
    “Shit
happens,” Xander said, making her feel infinitely better.
    “What
about you?” she asked, genuinely curious.
    “I
grew up in the foster system,” he said, his tone suddenly
guarded. “I picked fights for fun. I've always lived here.”
    “That
was... vague.”
    “And
your story wasn't?” he asked, quirking up an eyebrow, his tone
firm.
    But
he didn't press and she felt more gratitude toward him than she had
before. They sat quietly the rest of the time, each of them picking
at their food but not eating much.
    She
said was . Her dad was a cop. That could have meant he
was retired, but there had been a sort of guarded sadness when she
said it. Like her father had died. Like it was something she didn't
want to talk about.
    But
at least it was another piece. Something he could look into. Cops in
Portland.
    They
drove back to his apartment, Ellie glancing over at him occasionally,
seeing his dark eyes far away. His mind working. Probably about her.
Because it was the only way he could find out about her stalker: if
he found out about her. She looked down at her hands. And he was
going to research her past. In Portland.
    When
she grew up in Trenton.

Six

    Sleep
was evasive. She laid there, staring at the ceiling for hours,
listening as Xander's breathing took on the deep, slow cadence of
sleep. She should just tell him. Swallow her fears and tell him.
Because for all she knew, Gabe was going to tell him and then there
was a chance she could be out on her ass because she lied. Because
she intentionally put him in danger.
    And
he had been nothing but good to her.
    She
sighed, turning slightly onto her side, glancing over at him. He
wouldn't throw her out. Not even if he found out in a less than
perfect way. He was too moral for that.
    That
thought hit her as almost funny, bringing her hand up to her mouth to
cover the strange strangled snorting sound she made. Moral. The
toughest, most ruthless private investigator in the city happened to
be one of the good guys. One of the ones in white caps. One of the
ones people could rely on to do the right thing.
    She
laid there for a long time, watching his chest rise and fall. Finding
the motion oddly soothing. Until, despite the ever-present anxiety,
she drifted off to sleep.

    -

    And
she dreamed of him. Back when she first met him. Barely out of high
school. At a party her friend had dragged her to because someone had
gotten their older siblings to buy them alcohol. She remembered the
stifling isolation after her friend had ditched her to go make out
with some shaggy-haired, burned-out hippie. She had been standing in
a corner, looking out the window with a red cup in her hands full of
some god-awful smelling liquor that she refused to even try.
    She
wished she had brought a book. She had promised she wouldn't do that.
But she could have. Stashed it away in her purse. For that