The Blackout Girl ✔️

chapter thirty-five

Chapter Thirty-Five

It was another late night for the violent crimes unit.

The clock struck ten o'clock, marking five hours since the day was supposed to end. None of them had left. Price was holed up in his office, balancing endless files as he struggled to find their next job. Darren and Dre were helping him, the three men skimming over police reports and photos. They had to be sorted by priority since too many cases crossed Price's desk daily.

Nolan was glad he hadn't been picked for paperwork, but the write-up wasn't enjoyable either. He was sitting at his desk, in the same rigid position he'd been in since he got to work. His back was stiff and his neck ached from being bent over his screen. As he typed, his eyes burned from the brightness of the monitor.

Kaytee, who was responding to all media questions and developing their official statement, yawned and rubbed at her eyes. Her black mascara streaked on the backs of her fists when she pulled her hands away. They'd all had too many cups of coffee for their own good, and her latest was sitting in the corner of her desk, cooling into lukewarm sludge.

Since he was one of the primary agents on the case, it was his job to record all things pertaining to the murders committed by Delaney Robinson. He had to unpack every crime scene, unpack all the interviews and narratives. It was tedious, but easy because he'd been obsessing over it for a long time.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I hate talking to people," Kaytee muttered, putting her head down in her arms.

"You're good at it. That's why Price has you acting as a liaison," he reminded her.

She shrugged. "It's a blessing and a curse."

"How's it coming?" he asked, peeking into her small cubicle.

"CNN has been persistent," she said. "It's a lot, honestly. We have to maintain confidentiality, but the public also has a right to know what's happening in their community. It's a fine line. I can't mess it up."

"You won't," he told her.

He had a feeling it was more than just a matter of news outlets bothering the Bureau. Kaytee had known about the press coverage and communication duties for a while now. It seemed strange for her to suddenly be worked up over it now.

He was probably overthinking. The thing about being an FBI agent was that he was always set to analyze, looking for all the small details that might be overlooked. Investigation was what he was good at, but it was also something he couldn't turn off.

"I just can't believe Delaney was here the whole time, right in the open. It took too long for us to find her and it's not right. I keep wondering if maybe we could have figured it out sooner. The suspicion was there, and we could've acted before Quinton died," Kaytee told him, her guilt entirely evident. "I should be happy that we caught her and we closed the case. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," he said. "I've been thinking about that too."

"I couldn't stop thinking about that look on Lexi's face when she asked if I ever lost somebody. We could've stopped it, and we didn't. I think that's the worst part."

She glanced back at her email inbox, split with the document holding her press statement. It was half-finished, and she didn't seem like she wanted to complete it any time soon. With a frustrated sound, she closed the tab.

"I need to sleep," she said, reaching for her coat. "Goodnight, Nolan."

Kaytee grabbed her things in a rush like she was frantic to leave. It was strange because he'd never seen her like that before. She wasn't the type to be flustered easily, yet she was slowly slipping into a panicked state.