Chapter Twenty Three

Jackson
I end the call with Morris, then begin making my way back to the office that I’d left Brooklyn in, not wanting to leave her alone any longer than I already have. Not after all of the things she just shared with me, but I’d had to call Morris and give him an update after I got off the phone with the lab.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, the lab was able to determine that it wasn’t Brady’s DNA that was found on the evidence that I had brought in.
The DNA belonged to two brothers, Carl and Daniel Hardy. Both are ex-military, now homeless, as does tend to happen to way too many of our service members. The last record we have of them was at the homeless camp off of 21st street.
Rounding the corner, my stomach drops at the sight of the empty office, no sign of Brooklyn ever even being inside the room.
I know there’s likely no point, but I open the door and step inside, looking for any signs of where she went or why, but all that I find is the chair that she had been sitting in now slightly crooked.
Running my hand through my too-long hair in frustration as I go back out of the office, I make sure to pull the door closed before going up to the front desk, hoping that maybe Jodi spoke to her, saw her, *something*, but she too seems to be missing, or at least gone from her post.
“Fuck,” I curse, desperately wanting nothing more at the moment than to go look for Brooklyn, but also have orders to follow. Which is to track down the brother’s whereabouts, bring them in for questioning, then get my ass to class.
“Hey,” I call to the first person that I see, “Uh, Gomez, did you see a girl come out of that office?” I hitch my thumb over my shoulder, pointing at the office directly behind me.
He glances over my shoulder at the office, then nods, “Actually, yeah. She didn’t look too good.”
He waits a beat, then continues, “I asked if she needed help.” he shakes his head, seeming flustered. “She said that she was having a panic attack and couldn’t breathe, that she needed outside for some air.” He looks up at me, his face grim. “I helped her to the bench off to the side that’s in the shade, then went to get her this bottle of water,” he holds up the bottle, then continues. “When I got back outside, she was gone.”
*Fucking hell,* I think, then nod at Gomez, giving him a rushed, “Thank you,” as I rush out of the building.
There’s no sign of her anywhere here either, not around the precinct or a block in either direction that I run, hoping to catch her.
Knowing that I can’t keep looking for her, I shoot her a text:
**Me: I’m worried about you. That was a lot of heavy shit that you unpacked. Please let me know that you’re okay.**
I stare at my screen, willing the *Delivered* to change to *Read* and the read time or text bubbles to pop up showing that she’s replying, but neither thing happens.
“Godamnit,” I curse under my breath as I run to my Jeep, unlocking it just before I get to it. Throwing the door open, I jump into the driver's seat, turn the ignition over, throw it in drive, and punch the gas. I keep my eyes peeled for Brooklyn the entire time I’m driving to downtown, her words haunting me.
The homeless camp turns out to be a bust.
Everyone that I spoke with denied knowing the brothers, but I got the feeling they weren’t exactly being honest.
Hell, half of them wouldn’t even look at the pictures that I’d shown them. Some seemed like they wanted to say something, and I think with a bit more pressing, they may just talk.
I wanted to go ahead and bring them in and start pressing them. The sooner they talk, the sooner we get answers.
However, Morris ordered me to hold off and get to school, to not forget that we have more than just the murder case that we’re currently working on.
I know that he’s right and that we can’t rush this, but *fuck,* I hate the waiting.
I’m rushing through the hallway, my backpack slapping against my back, as I squeeze between the wall and another student, calling out a rushed, “Excuse me. Sorry,” as I turn the corner just outside of the classroom. I watch as the professor steps to the door, and my eyes widen when he places his hand on the doorknob and slowly starts pulling it closed.
I pick up the pace, then reach out, grasping hold of it just before it closes and pull it back open, just enough to slip through.
He turns around with a raised brow and a stern look on his face, as if fixing to scold me.
“Sorry,” I mutter, nodding at him before making my way to the back of the room to take the empty seat next to Bos.
He looks at me, shaking his head and chuckling before murmuring, “Barely,” just loud enough for only me, and maybe the person on the other side of him, to hear.
“Shut it,” I mutter as I begin pulling my stuff from my bag. “I was working.”
“*I was working,*” he repeats in a mocking voice. “We all work, Jax,” he finishes with a huff and an eye roll.
“Alright,” Professor Humphry says, pulling my attention from bickering with Bos to the front of the room. “Now that everyone is here,” he shoots a pointed look at me for a moment before continuing. “This should come as no surprise, since I told you about it last week, giving you plenty of time to prepare, but today is test day.”
“Mother fucker,” I curse as many others in the classroom groan in disappointment.
Professor Humphry hands a student at one end of the room a stack of tests, and then hands her a stack of scantrons, instructing everyone to “Take one and pass it down.”
I get the stack of papers and pull mine from the bottom, noting the *2A* in the very upper left-hand corner.
As I pass the papers to Bos, I notice the top paper says *2D*.
“Try to find *2A*,” I whisper, pointing to the top where the number and letter are written.
Bos flips to the next test, grabs it, and then passes the stack on.
Only loud enough for my ears to hear, he whispers, “You forgot, huh?” as he takes the stack of scantrons as I hand them to him.
“There’s a very good chance, yes,” I whisper back as I begin putting my name, the date, and then our class time on the scantron and then the test.
Bos rolls his eyes, muttering, “Some things never change,” under his breath as he finishes filling out the test and scantron too.
“Does everyone have both a scantron and the test?” Humphry asks, holding up one of each in his hands at the front of the room.
Everyone confirms that they have both, and with a nod, his eyes roaming over the students in the room, he says, “You may begin.”
Leaning over the table with my head resting in my left hand, I read over the first question.
*1.) A substrate molecule may be bound to the active site of an enzyme by which of the following?
Hydrogen bonds
Peptide bonds
Van der Waals interactions
Hydrophobic interactions
All the above
None of the above
*Fuck, I remember him talking about this, I just don’t remember what he said…*
I risk a glance at Bos’s paper and see that he’s marked *e. All the above,* and do the same before moving on to the next question.
Which I also don’t know the answer to.
Bos uses sign language and signs the letter that he’s marked down between the table and his stomach.
He does this for each question, giving me the answers until we’re through the test.
He fills in the bubbles on his scantron, while I go abc and change some of the answers, making sure that our answers aren’t exactly the same, resulting in either one or both of us getting into trouble or possibly receiving a *zero* on the test.
Once Bos is done, he gets up, collects all of his stuff, and takes the test and scantron to the front, turning them in while I’m just starting to fill in the scantron.
After a little over, what is probably five or so minutes but feels like forever, I do the same.
I find Bos leaning against the wall in the hallway when I exit the room, waiting for me.
“Thanks, man. Without your help, I would’ve been fucked,” I tell him as we begin making our way toward the exit together.
He nods but doesn't say anything more.
Once we exit, Bos blurts, “Dal says you’re going to try to have him take your place in classes?”
“Yeah.” I stop next to a picnic table and turn towards him. “I don’t need the credits, it’s all just a part of my cover, and he seems like he needs a purpose again, now that the medical field is no longer an option.”
Bos looks at me sideways, then, with a disbelieving look, says, “That’s awfully generous of you,” and to be honest, I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not.
“I’m *trying*,” I defend. “I know that I fucked up, that I’ve been selfish and a shit brother. But I’m trying to do better. I’m trying to *be* better.”
“Okay,” he raises his hands as if in surrender, taking a few steps back. “I’ll give you the benefit of a doubt, but don’t fuck him over. Dal has been through too much and needs us more than ever. I don’t want anything to set him back.”
“I know,” I agree. “And while I don’t agree with the phrase *’ Once an addict, always an addict,’* he is a recovering addict and those urges, the craving…he has a long road ahead of him and it’s going to be hard as hell at times.”
“That’s why he needs us,” Bos interrupts. “*All* of us. Without any bullshit. If you can’t commit and be there for him, then don’t even bother. Me, Linc and the girls can be enough if we have to, but we shouldn’t have to.”
“And you won't,” I snap, getting pissed. “I told you I’m trying, give me the chance to actually prove it.”
“Then make sure you do,” he responds, just as heated, before turning and stalking away.
“Fucking hell,” I curse, running my hands through my hair in frustration as I watch him go.
When I’ve cooled off enough, I head to the parking lot myself, having one more thing that I have to do before this long as fuck day is over.
I pull into my parking space at the complex, put the Jeep in park, and then turn off the ignition.
Climbing out, I press the key fob, locking up as I walk up the sidewalk towards the steps.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I bypass my palace, going to the next floor, only stopping once I’m standing in front of Chastity’s door.
I knock three times and then wait.
The door opens, revealing Chastity and a miniature version of her with wet hair, wearing a Bluey nightgown.
“Jackson?” Chastity asks, surprised.
Scratching the back of my neck, suddenly realizing maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, I apologize. “Hey, uh, Chastity. Sorry, I didn’t think about it being the munchkin's bedtime.”
“Did you ned something?” She asks warily.
“Um, yeah.” I shuffle from foot to foot, now feeling awkward, and ask, “Have you seen Brooklyn? Or do you know where she’s staying?”
Before Chastity can reply, her daughter turns around and shouts, “Auntie Bootie. Tome here, pwease!”
A moment later, a door opens, and Brooklyn, while still staring at her phone, steps out. “Did you need something, Sweetpea?”
Still not looking up, she makes her way to the door as Chastity and her daughter slip to the side.
Taking advantage of her being distracted, I grasp hold of her wrist, pull her through the open door, and then press her back against the wall right next to the now closed door, thanks to Chastity. 
Caging her in with an arm on either side of her head, I press my front to her and lean in and claim her mouth in a searing kiss.