I was initially going to hold back on this update until Sunday but y'all already know my impulse control is nonexistent and with the encouragement of new friends (hey naomi and elena!) I had to go ahead and post. Tried something a little new with this chapter and it focuses a lot on Malcolm and I learned I actually like writing in his POV a lot so that's new. It also features more Edrisa bc I love her and she's my best friend's absolute fav so I had to do them some service after the help with the last chapter which got some of my most insanely complimentary comments. Like one of y'all really commented how I wrote Martin well and I didn't stop smiling the entire day. That's fucking insane. Hope y'all enjoy the update and are staying safe!
Gil steps out of the room, exhaustion settling into him. Immediately Ainsley sits up leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.
"How is she? Is she ok?" The drive back from Claremont had been the worst. Jessica had jumped with every siren sounding and in New York? It was a lot. Ainsley held her hand the entire time while Malcolm rocked, his brain firing off at a million miles a minute. Nobody said a word but it was Jessica's silence that was the most concerning to them.
What the hell happened in that cell?
"She remembered what happened, didn't she?" Malcolm casts a glance at Ainsley who doesn't meet his gaze. Gil can only shrug.
"She still hasn't said anything but something in there definitely got to her. I called Dani and JT. They agreed to be the new details until we can sort out why she got so uncomfortable when we passed the guards on our way out and the drive home."
"We should go get mom's things." Ainsley says. "She only packed clothes. She left all of her products and things she'll probably need. Who knows how long this stay will last, we should at least make her comfortable." But she shifts her eyes to the door where Jessica was sleeping, or at least pretending to. She feels guilty for leaving her twice, it's written all over her face.
"I'll go." Malcolm offers. "I feel like we missed something that night. It'll give me a chance to look again."
"Hell no." Gil protests immediately. "I'm not comfortable with you going alone."
"I'll bring a detail." His retort is interrupted by the sound of movement from the other room, like someone shifting around in the bed. Jessica is listening and for whatever reason, she doesn't like that.
"We can go tomorrow. Right now I want all of us under the same roof." Malcolm tips his head back, annoyed then rises again with an idea.
"What if I bring Edrisa? She'll be able to help me look around and we'll be back before you know it." No more sounds of ruffling interrupt so Gil has to give in.
"Fine, but I want updates. And if you get even a whiff that something is wrong you two get the hell out."
"Deal." Gil sighs as Malcolm rushes off to text Edrisa.
The Whitly's are going to be the death of him.
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"This is so exciting." Edrisa practically bounces with every step up the driveway. "I've never actually got to be a part of the actual investigation." She pauses, a thought interrupting her excitement. "Should I have brought something to defend myself?"
Malcolm smiles, her enthusiasm is refreshing after his day. Honestly, part of him just wanted to talk to her to get some of the weight of the world off his shoulders. For a brief moment this case isn't a killer threatening his family. It's just him and Edrisa. "Edrisa, we're just getting clothes."
"Are you sure cause I have pepper spray in my car."
"Yes I'm sure." He holds the door open for her gesturing to enter. "And besides, you've got me." She beams at that, her pep coming back in full force as she bounds to the kitchen. He follows with a shake of his head.
"Ok, so what are we looking for?"
"Well, my mother drinks tea like most people drink water." He points to the cabinet where they usually keep it. "It's her comfort but Gil doesn't keep tea in the house." If Edrisa is curious why, she doesn't show it. His tone is enough and he's absolutely certain she read the casefile from that night.
Tea was how the surgeon sedated his victims, Gil was almost one of them.
When Edrisa opens the cabinet her eyes widen. The shelves are stacked with bags of tea, neatly sealed with tight creases. "That's a lot." She chuckles.
"It's everyone's favorites. Chai for Ainsley, the black is mine. She has every worker's favorites, I think she even managed to get JT's but don't tell him that."
"My lips are sealed. Matcha is my favorite, by the way." She winks.
"Oh, she knows." He grins at the wide, starry eyed look she gets. She blushes and clears her throat before turning back to the task. "Mother's is the earl grey supreme."
"What's the difference between that and the earl grey?"
"Honestly?" Malcolm shrugs. "Price, probably." Often she falls into the trap of the more expensive the better, it makes for an interesting Christmas and a pain in the ass to get gifts for her when she just buys anything she could possibly want on a whim.
Edrisa stops for a second, her posture straightening, and then getting on her tiptoes to see better. Even from behind he can tell she's got something on her mind. It's confirmed when she reaches inside pulling out a smaller, black bag. His head tilts because his mother never bought small bags. Even for people that rarely passed through she wanted to make sure they were prepared. Then the label catches his eye, it's a completely different brand then what she normally buys from. A brand he hasn't seen in years.
The brand his father likes.
"Where did you find that?" He asks, on edge and looking out the door. The house is silent other than the two of them but that doesn't mean that can't change at any second.
"It was on the bottom shelf and it's open. All the rest are sealed. Why?"
Just like that it all pieces together.
His mother had asked him that night if he made tea. He'd told her no and that made her seem more agitated. At first he thought it was because the killer had made her tea, had been in her room. No, it was much more than that. With Freddy's connection to Claremont, the ability for the killer to find her bedroom and the kitchen so quickly, and the tea that his father used to make.
"The surgeon. He knows who the killer is." The rush of emotion the punches him in the chest makes him stumble back against the counter. Edrisa runs to him, one hand on his elbow to steady him. Her presence isn't enough to tamper the anger thudding in his chest with every heartbeat. He knew. He knew when she was missing. He knows now that her life is being threatened.
He was the one who got her to remember.
"That's why she'd gone to him. She recognized the tea and didn't say a word about it. Why didn't she tell us?" Anger clashes with sadness burning at his retinas. He shuts his eyes tightly pressing the heels of his palm to them trying to get himself back under control.
"Malcolm." His own name sounds unfamiliar in Edrisa's voice. She'd always called him Bright. Never Malcolm. "Let's get her stuff and go. They'll get worried soon." Her calmness has him taking a deep breath and nodding. "Good." She extends her hand to him, it's an almost childish offer in its innocence. Her hand is something to ground him to the world. It gives him something different to focus on rather than his feelings.
Wordlessly, he takes her hand.
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When Malcolm and Edrisa arrive the house is more crowded than before. JT is by the doorway with Ainsley and Dani sharing the couch. Gil has made coffee for everyone, certain that it will be a long night all around. They all look relieved to see them but Gil reads it on his face before anyone else.
"You found something."
"Hooooo, did I find something." Edrisa lingers next to him, unsure if she should stay or go. She decides on the former when Ainsley scoots on the couch leaving room for her to sit on the end closest to where Malcolm still stood. "Is she awake?"
"Bright, is this a good idea?" Dani asks sitting up a little straighter. He notes that she's in much more casual clothes, probably looking to rest before trading shifts with JT.
"Nope. But I think she knows who the killer is. And if I'm right?"
"Go. We'll be right out here." Ainsley nods, making the final decision.
He shifts the bag over his shoulder opening the door to the bedroom slowly. In the dim light streaming between the curtains he sees his mother sitting on the side of the bed, she's got something in her hands but it's too dark to make out.
"Mom?" Her head turns to him, her expression isn't the blank unreadable one from earlier. No, she looks relieved that he's back. The news twists uneasily in his stomach as he shuts the door behind him. "Can I ask you a couple of questions?" He doesn't really expect her to answer. But when her breathing doesn't pick up or really make any uncomfortable movements he takes it as permission.
He grabs a chair sliding it so that he can sit across from her. Closer he can see how tired she is. Her breakdown likely didn't help but she definitely didn't fall asleep at any point in time since she got back.
"Stop me if you need to, ok?" She blinks at him so he continues. "Why did you go see him?" He treads lightly, testing the waters first. An annoyed expression passes over her face but she doesn't shift or startle. He digs in the duffel he brought along pulling out the bag of tea. "Is this why?"
When her eyes land on the bag she takes a shuddering breath, it's confirmation enough.
"This was the tea he used to make." She blinks back the tears, correct again. "This is why you visited him. The killer made you the same tea, you knew he had something to do with all of this." Her lower lip wobbles but she holds herself tightly wound. "He knew who did this." The first tear that slides down her cheek makes him feel like the worst. "Do you want me to stop?" She shakes her head, almost imperceptibly. Her hand unfolds and in it is a crumpled note. He takes it, slowly as not to startle her into shutting back down.
Just like you like.
"Did the killer write this?" A nod. Malcolm takes a breath trying not to be frustrated that she kept this from them. Had they known they would have questioned his father so much sooner. The information she knew, it'd be common knowledge. "Thank you." He says instead, taking her hand and enclosing it in both of his. She'd held his shaking hand like this countless amounts of times, her fingers stroking the back of his hand in the same way he mimics now. "I need you to tell me what he told you." She starts, but doesn't pull away. "Please."
Her voice is deep, more tonal than he's ever heard come from her. He almost thinks he imagines it. It's too low to understand what she says.
"What?"
"He's a cop." Her eyes meet his, glassy from unshed tears. He smiles at her sadly, too caught up in the fact that his mom is back before the gravity of her words hits him full force.
Oh.
Shit.