desertion

169

LYDIA

When Officer Darden walked into the station and handed Mason and me another file, I immediately felt my stomach drop. We had just finished our last case-a grueling missing person's investigation that had left me mentally and emotionally drained. Yet here we were, barely taking a breath before being thrown into the next one.

"Congrats, kids," Darden said with his usual smirk, dropping the folder onto our desk. "You're back in the field."

Mason glanced at me, his eyes lighting up in a way that made my chest ache. He was thrilled. I could tell. His fingers were already reaching for the folder, his body practically vibrating with excitement.

"Back in the field?" Mason repeated, a grin spreading across his face. "Finally! I was starting to think they'd keep us desk-bound forever."

I forced a small smile, though my hands were clenched in my lap. "Yeah. Great."

Mason didn't seem to notice the hesitation in my voice as he flipped open the file, his eyes scanning the details. "Homicide," he said, his tone serious now. "Victim is a woman, early thirties. Found in her apartment this morning by her neighbor. No forced entry, no immediate sign of struggle."

I nodded numbly, my mind already racing. A murder. I should've been used to this by now. I should've felt ready to dive in, to analyze every piece of evidence, to chase down every lead. But instead, all I felt was dread.

"You two," Darden said, motioning for us to follow him. "Gear up. I'll drive you to the scene."

Mason was out of his seat in an instant, grabbing his jacket and practically bouncing on his heels. I stood up slower, my legs feeling like they were weighed down with lead.

"You okay?" Mason asked, glancing at me as we walked toward the exit.

"Yeah," I said quickly, forcing another smile. "I'm fine."

I wasn't.

The crime scene was in a small apartment complex on the edge of town. The moment we stepped inside, I felt my skin prickle with unease. The air was heavy, the kind of oppressive silence that made it hard to breathe.

Mason, on the other hand, was in his element. He moved through the room with confidence, his eyes darting from the body to the scattered belongings on the floor.

"What do you think?" Darden asked, his gaze fixed on Mason.

Mason crouched next to the body, his face serious. "The lack of forced entry suggests she knew her killer. But the scene feels... staged. Like someone wanted it to look like a random attack."

Darden nodded, jotting something down in his notebook. I stood a few feet behind them, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. I felt like a shadow, invisible and insignificant.

"Lydia?" Mason turned to look at me, his expression expectant. "What do you think?"

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "I... I don't know. It's too early to tell."

Mason frowned slightly but didn't press me. "Fair enough," he said, turning back to Darden. "Let's check the rest of the apartment."

I followed them silently as they moved into the kitchen. Mason was talking animatedly about the possible timeline of events, his hands gesturing as he laid out his theories. I tried to focus on his words, but the walls felt like they were closing in around me.

I stayed close to Mason, my hand brushing his arm whenever we stopped. It wasn't intentional, but I couldn't seem to help it. Being near him made me feel safer, like I wasn't completely drowning.

"Excuse me," an officer said, tapping me lightly on the shoulder.

The touch was light-barely more than a brush-but it sent a shockwave through my body. I flinched hard, my breath hitching as my heart began to race.

"Sorry!" the officer said quickly, stepping back. "I didn't mean to startle you."

I nodded, my chest heaving as I tried to steady my breathing. Mason didn't notice-he was too busy examining a set of scratches on the countertop.

"Lydia?" Darden called from the hallway. "Come check this out."

I hesitated, my legs trembling as I forced myself to move. Mason was already ahead of me, his voice carrying down the hall as he spoke to Darden.

I followed them into the bedroom, my gaze darting around the room. The bed was unmade, the nightstand cluttered with books and a half-empty glass of water. A sense of foreboding settled over me, my chest tightening.

Something was coming. I could feel it.

"Lydia, are you even listening?" Mason's voice broke through my thoughts, and I blinked, realizing he was staring at me.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "What did you say?"

He frowned, stepping closer. "What's going on with you today? You're not yourself."

"I'm fine," I said quickly, but my voice wavered, betraying me.

Mason studied me for a moment, his eyes softening. "You're not fine," he said quietly. "Talk to me."

I shook my head, my arms wrapping around myself. "Not here," I whispered.

Mason hesitated, but he nodded. "Okay. Later."

For the rest of the investigation, I stayed in the background, letting Mason and Darden take the lead. Every noise, every movement, felt amplified, my nerves on edge.

As we wrapped up and headed back to the station, Mason stayed close to me, his hand brushing mine every so often. It was a small comfort, but it was enough to keep me grounded.

Later, when we were finally alone, I knew I'd have to tell him the truth. About the fear I couldn't shake, about how the case was triggering memories I didn't want to face. But for now, I was just grateful for his presence.

For the way he always seemed to know when I needed him, even if I couldn't say the words.