Sam.

~~~

The next day, I was pleasantly surprised by Molly's visit. Having her here made the hospital room feel a little less dull, and I found myself actually looking forward to the conversation. We were sitting on the bed, chatting and sipping on smoothies when I heard a light knock on the door.

"Come in," I called, spotting a familiar face through the lightly tinted glass door.

The door opened, and there was Andrew, grinning like he always did. He stepped inside, holding a tray with two brown mugs and a plastic container filled with chopped-up mangoes.

"Hey," he said, smiling warmly. "I brought you a latte and mangoes."

"Well, I'll never say no to that," I smirked, watching as he set the tray on top of the cupboard, out of the way.

He turned toward Molly, extending his hand. "You must be Molly."

Molly stood and shook his hand lightly, nodding. "Right. The drummer, right?"

Andrew laughed softly, shaking his head. "The bassist, actually." He let go of her hand and looked back at me. "Not that I don't play the drums. But just call me Andrew."

"Well, you're good with drums too," I said, teasing him. "And piano."

"Not as good as Logan," Andrew replied with a lopsided grin, as he walked toward the window and grabbed a chair to pull it closer.

"Well, you're still pretty talented," I said, taking a sip of my smoothie.

Andrew sat down, settling into the chair with a slight sigh. "Anyway, how are you doing?" he asked, looking at me with a soft expression as if really wanting to know.

"In pain," I said, grimacing slightly. "And bored out of my mind."

Molly's green eyes flickered between us, and I could see her thinking, probably about how awkward this moment might be for her. She stood up, adjusting the hem of her jean skirt.

"Well, since you're not alone anymore, I should get going," she said, grabbing her purse from the end of the bed. "I've got to take Spot from the dog daycare and bring him to Elysian Park. Some familiar places might help him feel better."

"You took Spot with you?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing in surprise.

"Yeah, I didn't want to leave him at the hotel," she said with a shrug. "New places make him pee a lot. I figured I'd spare the hotel staff that nightmare."

I opened my mouth to ask more questions—about Spot, or why she seemed a little off—but before I could speak, she was already wrapping things up.

"I'll be back later," she said, looking at the tray of hospital food by my bed with distaste. "And I'll bring you some real food. They clearly don't know how to feed people here." She glanced at Andrew, nodding at him. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Andrew said, his voice a little more serious than usual.

I watched as Molly disappeared behind the tinted glass of the door. Her silvery hair flashed briefly, and then she was gone, leaving me with a strange feeling. Why had she brought Spot? And why had she left so quickly? I couldn't help but feel like she was hiding something from me, but the pain meds I'd been on made it hard to focus.

"You okay?" Andrew's voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and I realized he was holding my hand.

I blinked, looking at him. "Yeah," I replied, my eyes diverting away as I closed my mouth. "She's not telling me something."

"Maybe you're just being paranoid," Andrew teased, tilting his head to the side, his grin mischievous.

"Could be," I said with a sad smile, the corners of my lips barely lifting. I handed him one of the mugs. "Here. Coffee should help." I grabbed the other mug for myself, hoping the warmth would soothe my nerves. "My mind is a mess. I can't think straight, and Ray... he keeps babying me."

"He just wants to help," Andrew said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I know," I said, rolling my eyes. "But I'm not that fragile."

"You are to him," he replied, raising an eyebrow with a knowing smile. "And he feels thankful." I snickered at his words, despite myself. "We all are," Andrew added, leaning back in the chair. "He's alive because of you."

I stiffened, my heart suddenly feeling heavy. "You don't know that," I muttered. "It was a split-second decision. I don't even know why I did it."

Andrew shrugged, a knowing look in his eyes. "Because you love him."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. "What?" My voice was barely above a whisper.

Andrew sat back, his posture casual, but the expression on his face was serious. "Oh, come on," he said, grinning like he had all the answers. "We all know you do."

"I'm not that easy to read," I said, but even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice.

Andrew chuckled and then immediately coughed, clearly having gotten coffee stuck in his throat. "You might think you're some sort of mystery," he said, looking at me with a teasing grin, "but you're really not." I furrowed my brows, slightly taken aback by his words. "We got to know you pretty well," he continued. "And to be honest, neither of us has ever managed to bring our girlfriends on tour."

"Never?" I asked, my surprise evident.

"Nope," Andrew shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and nostalgia. "None of them seemed too fond of the idea of being on the road for so long. If that's not love I don't know what it is then."

"That's weird," I muttered, my eyes drifting to the mug in my hands, suddenly feeling a little unsettled by the thought. "Wanna listen to some music?" I suggested, hoping to shift the focus.

"Of course," Andrew agreed easily, scooting toward the bed and flopping onto the left side.

I shifted a bit to make room for him, and we both settled onto our backs, making ourselves comfortable. As I handed him one earbud, I couldn't help but smile at how normal this all felt—sitting in a hospital room, lying next to Andrew, listening to music. The warm, familiar tunes of the new Halestorm album filled the space as we both took sips of our coffee. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the rhythm wash over me.

Just as the song "Vicious" kicked in, I heard the door open, and my peace was interrupted.

"How did you get here earlier than me?" Ray's voice cut through the air, rich with a teasing edge as he stepped inside the room.

"When I called you, I was already buying the coffee," Andrew shrugged, lifting himself off the bed with ease. "And you needed to sleep way more," he added, eyeing Ray with a playful smirk.

Ray smirked right back, stepping toward me. "Hi, love," he said, leaning down to kiss my cheek. "Seriously?" he asked, scanning the cupboard filled with an empty coffee mug and half-eaten mangoes.

"She likes mangoes and coffee," Andrew said nonchalantly, glancing at Ray with a knowing look. "What else am I supposed to bring her?"

"There's no need to overreact," I intervened with a light laugh, trying to ease the situation. "There can never be too much coffee or mangoes," I added, noting that both Ray and Andrew had brought me the same food and drink.

The two of them exchanged a glance before bursting into quiet laughter. Andrew moved to sit in the chair, and Ray took a seat at the foot of the bed.

"How did you sleep?" Ray asked, his hand lightly caressing my legs, his touch soothing.

"Decent," I said, glancing up at him, though I couldn't quite mask the frustration in my voice. "They're not letting me go home today, though."

"We can keep you company," Andrew chimed in, motioning between himself and Ray.

"That's the best company I could ask for," I smirked, the hint of humor lingering in my words.

The playful mood shifted in an instant as the door opened again, this time two men I didn't recognize walked in. Both looked official—one was tall, probably in his mid-thirties, sporting a thick mustache, while his partner was bulkier, with a small beer belly that stretched his white shirt.

"I'm Detective Hudson, and this is my partner, Detective Lincoln," the mustache man said in a deep, calm voice. "We're here to take a formal interview from you, Miss Morris. The doctor said you're feeling better."

I felt a knot form in my stomach, but before I could react, Ray stood up, his gaze hardening. "We better go," he muttered, looking at Andrew.

"You, Mister Lawrence, can stay," Detective Lincoln said, his voice cold but polite. "We actually prefer it that way." He gave a quick look at his partner before focusing back on Ray. "But your friend should wait outside."

Andrew gave a slow nod, his face briefly clouded with discomfort. He walked over to me, pulling me into a quick hug before stepping out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, I felt an uncomfortable silence settle in. I hated the idea of being alone with the police, but at least Ray was allowed to stay.

The atmosphere felt even more tense with Andrew gone, and I could see Raymond tense up as he moved to sit in the chair next to my bed. The two detectives stood at the foot of the bed, their eyes trained on me like I was a puzzle they were trying to solve.

"Since we've already spoken with Mister Lawrence," Detective Hudson began, his voice formal, "we know a few things. But in order to close the case, we need more details."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I forced myself to focus. "How did you know Scott Shaw?" Detective Hudson continued, pulling out a notepad and clicking his pen, his eyes never leaving me.

"Wait, you're closing the case already?" I asked, trying to process the unexpected news.

"Please, Miss Morris," Detective Lincoln interjected, his tone bordering on impatient. "Answer the questions, and we can talk later."

I nodded, my heart thudding in my chest. "I met Scott about five years ago," I said, my voice steady despite the rising unease. Both detectives nodded, but I could tell they wanted more.

"I was a bit late to our Management lecture," I continued, staring at the ceiling as I replayed the memory in my head. "He was sitting right next to me, so after class, I asked if he could help me with the notes. He agreed, and we went out for lunch so I could catch up. The next day, he asked me for coffee, and I took it as a friendly thing. I just wanted to repay his kindness."

I could feel the detectives' eyes on me, assessing every word I said, like they were trying to read between the lines. It wasn't hard to tell they didn't entirely believe me, but I had no reason to lie. Or maybe I didn't know if I was telling the truth either. My mind felt muddled like I was missing something important.

"You took it as a friendly meeting. How did Scott take it?" Detective Lincoln asked, his tone blunt as he jotted down something in his notebook.

I inhaled deeply, my eyes flicking to Ray. He didn't look surprised by the question, but his hand squeezed mine just a little tighter. I knew the answer wasn't going to be easy. "Well," I said, pausing to collect my thoughts, "apparently he thought we were going on a date." Lincoln scribbled something quickly, his pen moving across the paper without looking up. "But he told me that just before all this happened... I mean, the day everything went down."

"And after that?" Lincoln's voice was sharp like he was eager to dig deeper.

I shifted uncomfortably, my fingers tracing the rim of my mug. "You mean after we met for coffee?" I asked, needing to clarify. Lincoln nodded. "We had a class together and started hanging out more outside of university. I only had one friend here, so it was nice to meet new people. And I want to make it clear—he was a nice person."

Lincoln's gaze never wavered from me. "Are you aware Scott has a criminal record?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

I could feel Ray tense beside me. I shook my head, my stomach dropping. "No... I had no idea."

"Some of the records are sealed because he was a minor," Lincoln continued, his voice cold, "but from what we can see, he had violent tendencies."

"What does that even mean?" Ray asked, a hint of anger creeping into his voice.

"Domestic violence," Lincoln said without hesitation. "He was arrested at a few house parties for fights back in Boston. He's got no record here in L.A., but it seems he's been more careful this time around."

I felt a chill run down my spine. "That's... that's a lot to process," I muttered, my voice shaky.

"Back to you and Scott," Lincoln continued, his tone steady but unrelenting. "How did you find out he was stalking you?"

I swallowed hard, glancing at Ray. I could tell he had already told them about that night. I didn't want to relive it, but I knew I had to. The memory of that night still made my skin crawl.

I drew in a breath, trying to keep my voice steady. "We were at the club, having a few drinks. Not Ray, though—he was completely sober." I gave Ray a small, awkward smile, trying to mask the discomfort. "Anyway, we took Scott home. And, uh, we just sort of looked around his place," I glanced at Ray, who was still holding my hand, his fingers warm and steady. The cold rings on his fingers gave me some strange comfort, like a lifeline in the sea of uncertainty. "At that time, I didn't know he lived across the street from me. I was just trying to figure out why he hadn't told me. And that's when we found the photos."

"The photos?" Lincoln repeated, his pen poised. "What kind of photos?"

"They were taken in secret," I said, my voice tight. "And there was a telescope."

Ray's voice was low but firm. "We left after that."

Lincoln nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing our words. "Alright, seems like you both have the same story on this part. What about Paul Murphy?"

I exchanged a quick look with Ray. He knew Paul, and we had hired him to help us out. But what did Paul have to do with any of this?

"Well," I said, my gaze shifting back to Ray, "Ray knew Paul. We hired him to help."

"What did Murphy say about Scott?" Lincoln asked, his eyes never leaving me.

"Not much," I replied, my throat tightening. "Ray and I ended up traveling to Europe, trying to put some distance between me and Scott. Paul tried to get proof of the stalking so we could get a restraining order."

"While you were away, how much contact did you have with Scott or Murphy?"

I bit my lip, wondering how much to say. "I talked with Scott a few times, same with Paul. Do you think Scott killed Paul?"

Lincoln glanced at his partner, then back at me. "We're not on that case. The cases are connected, but for now, we're doing separate investigations. However, we found Murphy's notes and some files on his electronics, and it looks like they're Scott's computer files. You don't know anything about that, do you?"

I shook my head, my stomach sinking even further. "No," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. Lincoln closed his notebook with a snap, and I knew the interview was almost over. Detective Hudson had stayed eerily silent the entire time, though I could see him scribbling notes.

"Can I ask some questions now?" I asked, my voice catching in my throat. I felt like I had to understand more, even though everything about this situation felt like a tangled mess I couldn't unravel.

Lincoln's eyes flicked up to meet mine. "Sure," he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice. "Off the record," he added, as if to make it clear he wasn't about to let anything else slip.

"You said you're closing the case?" I asked, hoping for some clarity.

"Well, Samantha," Lincoln sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's our job to investigate, but this case seems cut and dry." He shrugged nonchalantly. "The perpetrator's dead, and that usually means we close the case fast. We still need to investigate to make sure no one else was involved, but from what we have so far, it looks like Scott acted alone."

"What about Paul's case?" I asked, my voice rising in frustration.

"That's a different investigation," Lincoln replied with a hint of finality. "Murphy had plenty of enemies in his line of work. But we do know Scott found out Murphy had accessed his files."

I felt a surge of confusion. "When can I get back to my apartment?"

Lincoln hesitated before answering. "In about a week. It's still an active crime scene. We cleared Murphy's apartment because he wasn't killed there."

"What?" Ray and I asked in unison.

"He was placed there after his death," Lincoln said, his voice quieter now. "I can't give you too many details, but he was killed somewhere else and then moved to that apartment. We estimate he was placed there hours before Mister Lawrence found him."

I felt a wave of nausea hit me, and I looked at Ray, searching for some sort of answer. "It makes no sense," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "You cleared Paul's apartment but not mine? And you're closing my case but not his?"

Lincoln's expression tightened, and he stood up straight. "That's enough questions for today," he said firmly. "We'll be in touch with both of you." He didn't look back as he walked toward the door. Hudson, still silent, held the door open, and they both left without another word.

I let out a frustrated sigh, slumping back against the pillows. "Why do they have to be so cryptic?" I asked, looking at Ray, my head spinning with unanswered questions.

"I don't know, love," Ray replied, his voice low and comforting. He started drawing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. "They're not telling us something."

"Can we listen to the new Twenty One Pilots album?" I asked, desperate for something to distract me from the chaos in my head.

"Sure, love," Ray replied, lying down beside me. I nestled my head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat thrum steadily beneath me. We both closed our eyes, and I let the music and his steady rhythm fill the silence, trying to forget everything for just a moment.