Intervention

Two steps forward, one step back.

I didn't blame her for not being open with me, but goddamn it still made me angry. Feeling powerless was not something I particularly enjoyed. Which is probably why I was standing amongst the trees across the street from her apartment after going home to swap my recognizable car for my motorcycle instead. She's hiding something, and I needed to know what, so I planned to follow her and I couldn't do that with my car.

Funny how she correctly guessed I would follow her tonight while we had been in the elevator, but Clary is a mystery to me, and I don't like unsolved cases.

Luckily the rain died down an hour ago. Only mist-like droplets fell onto my jacket from the thick branches above me.

I didn't know what to expect. She said she had dinner plans with the Captain and he had confirmed it in the elevator, but at this point I couldn't believe anything either of them told me until I saw it for myself.

We did make progress today, though, much to my surprise. The car accident was the last thing I had expected and I couldn't help but feel horrible for making her relive that in her mind. I blamed Simon for it—he was supposed to be the responsible one in that situation, he never should've let her drive without adult supervision. Just another thing to hate him for.

My head snapped up at the sight of a black SUV pulling up to the front lawn of her apartment. I flicked water from the visor of my full-face helmet and watched as Clary stepped out of her doorway. She had slipped a gray hoodie over her pink top, surely to cover her braless breasts. God, seeing her nipples through the fabric just hours earlier nearly made me feral. If she hadn't walked away I was fully prepared to throw her onto the bed behind her and really give her something to remember.

Even from a distance, I could see that the bruises along her neck had been covered with makeup until they were completely masked unless you knew they were there. That made my insides twist—she was hiding them from her father, which means he had no idea what happened either. Did anybody know?

She hopped up into the passenger seat before they slowly started leaving the street. I took the opportunity to sprint over to my bike and turn the engine. It roared to life beneath me and I kept a good distance from the SUV, nearly blending into the darkness of Salem.

I should've been feeling guilty for following them, but after what happened to Clary while I wasn't there last night, I couldn't find it in me to leave her unguarded. If what she said was true, they should be on their way back to Valentine's house just a few miles from Clary's place—then I would be satisfied enough to leave her alone.

I was only doing this for her safety, of course.

A bitter scoff passed my lips when he didn't turn down the street to his house but instead kept driving along the boulevard. I couldn't say I was surprised, the whole reason I was following them was because I had a feeling they were lying to my face.

What did her fortune cookie say about trusting intuition? Maybe fate was giving me a sign after all.

An hour went by and I was starting to get antsy. Farmland ran along the sides of the highway and I was shocked to find we had just passed the small town of Shedd. Where the fuck were they going?

Another excruciating half hour later and I found that I had followed them all the way to Eugene. My ass was beginning to get sore from my seat, but a sigh left me when they finally pulled into a Recreation Center. I stayed at the back of the parking lot to avoid being spotted as I observed.

They both left the SUV. The sight of the Captain in casual clothing was strange since I had only ever seen him in his slacks and button up uniform. But tonight he wore blue jeans with a navy blue zip up hoodie. The hood was pulled up to cover his blonde head of hair. Clary had tugged her hood over her head as well, but no rain was falling. She linked her arm through his while they walked to the small building.

What were they doing at a recreation center at 5:45 in the evening? Not having dinner, that was for certain.

They disappeared behind the sliding glass doors. I grit my teeth and tore my helmet from my head before hanging it on the handlebars by its chin and striding after them.

Warm air spread across my cheeks as soon as I breached the doors into the main lobby. A desk sat in the middle of the walkway with a middle aged woman sitting behind it in a swivel chair. Her hair was tied into a tight bun and blue eyeshadow had been caked onto her eyelids in an unflattering way. I straightened my jacket and approached, making her head snap up to me. Her cheeks flushed at my appearance alone and I knew I would be able to finesse some information from her.

"How can I help you?" She gave a nervous smile and straightened her shoulders.

I raked my hands through my hair slowly. "I'm trying to find something to occupy my time this evening and I figured I would see what's going on here tonight. Anything you'd suggest?"

"Uhm," she stammered and shuffled through a couple papers. "Unfortunately there's not a whole lot going on this late. It looks like there's a seniors-only shuffleboard tournament that's about halfway over by now but I don't think you'd be allowed in." She gave a shy chuckle.

I scratched the back of my head. There was no way they had come all the way from Salem to watch a shuffleboard tournament, not to mention Clary wouldn't have been allowed in either.

"Ah, not exactly what I'm looking for. Was there anything else? Anything at all?" I pried.

Her mouth twisted as she looked over another sheet. "The only thing we have left is a Narcotics Anonymous meeting starting in about ten minutes." She set the sheet down and I pretended to consider going to the meeting as I scanned the page. A list of names was scribbled in ink below the words 'Sign In', and at the bottom was 'Clary' written in elegant handwriting that I immediately knew belonged to the redhead herself.

What the fuck was Clary doing in an NA meeting? I guess she did admit to smoking weed, but she hadn't seemed embarrassed when I brought it up. Maybe Valentine didn't approve of how she used it to cope with her nightmares.

"Did you want to put your name down for the meeting?" the woman asked, cutting me from my internal investigation.

I considered this. If I went, I could find out what was really going on. But that brought the extremely high risk of them spotting me. I would probably lose my job and Clary all in one foul swoop.

"No it's alright. Better luck for me next time, I guess," I sighed and left the lobby once more.

Steam was practically wafting from my skin from the frustration alone. There was just one piece of the puzzle I was missing, I could feel it, but it was just out of reach. I swung a leg over my bike and pulled my helmet on. There was no point in staying, especially since I knew I would have to restrain myself from bursting through those meeting doors. I revved the engine before taking off back up the highway with the comfort of knowing I could speed back home in half the time it took to get here.

I needed to mentally get all of my clues in line. According to what she said in an explosion of truth at the crime scene, she left the bar immediately after I did to check on Valentine. Then she said she called an Uber to take her home, which is exactly what I saw, but the image of her looking drunk and disheveled is what confused me. She was barely buzzed at the bar, not to mention she seemed to sober immediately after seeing her blank phone screen. With that timeframe, she was at her dad's for an hour.

What happened during that time? Had they gotten into a fight? If that was the case, then that would mean…

My chest began to heave in heavy breaths as I sped up.

Why does Clary need to check on her father? Shouldn't it be the other way around? The way her body tensed at the sight of him the next morning was suddenly throwing alarm bells in my head.

He looked guilty and saddened when she said she had to cut her date short to check on him, why? Why would she have had to call an Uber when her father would have much preferred to drive her home?

Perhaps I've been focused on the wrong Fairchild—maybe instead of following the daughter, I should be following the father.

My heart pounded in my chest as pieces started clicking into place. Did Valentine—the Captain of Salem Police—strangle his daughter? Possibly worse? The way she straightened her clothes outside of the Uber made my insides twist.

"Fuck," I strained aloud.

I'm not ready to tell you that, she had said in the woods.

I slammed on the brake and jerked the handlebars until my bike veered to the shoulder of the highway. In a quick motion, I hopped from my seat and ripped the helmet off my head before curling over the grass and throwing up the contents of my stomach to the hard-packed earth.

God, I hoped I was wrong.