I quickly step away, trying to put some distance between us. Logan tries to catch up, attempting to hook his hand around mine, but I’m not having it.
I look at him warily, wondering if he’s lost his mind thinking I’d willingly hold hands with him.
I spot a taxi driving by and wave it down, trying to make a quick escape. Logan’s caught off guard, and I take advantage of the momentary distraction to open the door and hop in.
As I give the driver my destination, I turn around to take one last look at Logan. His face is comical: He looks like he can’t believe I’m leaving him standing there in the rain.
But as the taxi pulls away, I see Logan’s expression change.
I smile as I gaze back at the road.
Ethan’s sudden storm-off has me wondering where he went and why his demeanor changed so abruptly.
I’m still reeling from his outburst – who wouldn’t be? He had built this illusion in his head that we were married, and seeing it shatter when I declared my love for Logan was intense.
“Here, please,” I say to the driver, smiling to myself. I’m glad I remembered to alert him this time, unlike most times when it’s the other way around.
I pay the driver and step out of the cab, into the chilly air that still threatens to rain.
I take a moment to look around, taking in the sights and sounds of the station. As I glance up, I’m greeted by a familiar face – the same police officer who was at my place yesterday. I take my time to check him out, noticing the lines of gray hair on his head, which only add to his handsome and rugged features despite his age.
“Ah, Mrs. West,” he says with a warm smile.
“Nice meeting you again, sir.”
He looks around, his eyes scanning the area, and asks, “I see your husband is not anywhere in sight.”
I can tell he’s talking about Logan, and I groan inwardly, wanting to protest and correct him.
But I don’t see the point in explaining my complicated situation to someone I probably won’t encounter again.
“He’ll be here anytime soon,” playing along and following his lead as he points to the direction I’m to follow.
“Thank you,” I mutter, as I walk alongside the officer. We haven’t even reached his office yet when I hear that unmistakable voice – the one that always sends a flutter through my body.
“I’m sorry for coming late,” Logan says in his husky tone, as the chief turns around to shake hands with him.
“Glad you’re here, let’s walk to my office,” the chief says, leading the way. Logan slowly makes his way to me.
He kisses my forehead, and I almost want to roll my eyes at him, but I notice the chief watching us, so I refrain.
Logan’s eyes lock onto mine, and I feel a spark. I try to ignore it, but it’s no use. My heart starts racing, and I feel my face heat up.
The chief clears his throat, breaking the tension, and we follow him to his office.
As we walk, I can feel Logan’s hand brush against mine, sending tinglings. I try to focus.
“Sit down,” the chief motions to a seat, and we both settle in. Logan is visibly impatient, eager to get to the reason we’re here.
“Any clue as regards the culprit?” he asks, hope etched in his eyes, as if he wants his theory to be proven true.
But the chief’s face falls, and I furrow my brow, wondering what’s behind the sudden change in expression.
“What is it?”
The chief hesitates before delivering the news, “I’m afraid I have to inform you that the man died this morning. We found him lifeless in his cell.”
Logan’s eyes widened in shock. This isn’t what we were expecting.
After asking the officers on duty, I’m told that the man passed away after his meal.
“We’re going to perform an autopsy to confirm the reason for his death,” the chief explains, “but from the looks of things, it seems he was poisoned by someone.”
Logan slams his fist onto the open palm of his other hand. “Fuck!” he mutters, his eyes flashing with anger. “When I thought I was getting close to finding the culprit…”
I turn my face to Logan. “What do you mean by that?” I ask him, but he’s hesitant, unsure if he should share his thoughts.
He stares at me, his eyes searching, wondering if he should reveal more. But then he shakes his head, “You know what, never mind.” His words trail off, leaving me wondering what he’s hiding.
I can sense Logan’s frustration. I know he’s getting close to something, but what? And who is behind the sinister events.
“So, whoever is behind this, outsmarted us and came here to finish the job. But we’re still investigating, and once we have a lead on the case, we’ll let you know.”
I turn to Logan, noticing he’s deep in thought, his eyes fixed on some invisible point ahead. I wonder what’s on his mind.
After a moment, he rises to his feet, and I follow suit, walking closely behind him. He opens the car door, gesturing for me to get in. “We have a lot to talk about,” with a soft voice, his eyes locked on mine.
But I shake my head, refusing him. “No, Logan, I’m not getting into the car with you,” I say.
I’m not ready to be alone with him, not ready to face whatever emotions are growing between us.
“Please,” he says softly, with a pleading voice. I look at him warily but eventually step inside the car.
He closes the door and turns around to enter, a wide smile spreading across his face.
The car starts moving, but an uncomfortable silence falls between us. I stare out the window, lost in my thoughts, replaying the events that have complicated my life – my son, Ethan’s outburst, Logan, and now this mysterious case.
Logan slowly breaks the silence, his voice gentle. “I’d like to see my son,” his eyes fixed on me, searching for a response.
I turn to him with a sharp look, my eyes narrowing in suspicion. I know he’s aware of our son’s whereabouts; he could easily order his men to bring him here or visit himself.
But this new Logan, with his gentle tone and pleading eyes, is someone I don’t know how to reconcile with.
“I know you’ll be surprised,” he says with a gentle voice, “Nadine, please… I’ve been denied the privilege of coming close to you and our son since I found your location in Canada.”
Logan’s eyes lock onto mine, I can see the sincerity in his eyes, and for a moment, I’m taken aback.
This is a side of him I’ve never seen before, and it’s unsettling. I’m not sure what to make of it, or how to respond.
Who could be denying him access to our son? I’ve often thought that he hadn’t made enough effort to find me, to come for his son, whom I know he’s aware I’ve given birth to.
But the thought of him saying he’s been denied the privilege doesn’t sit well with me.
“Logan, who prevented you from seeing us?” I ask.