Don't Touch Me! - 19

Cody sank down in one of the kitchen chairs. "Please, please, please let it be him." He looked up at Brent, a flash of fear crossing his face. "Of course, the same thing could hold true for any of the other victims' relatives—including me."

"He suggested that too—at least about you—until I pointed out to him it would be physically impossible for you to strangle anyone."

"It would? Oh…yeah. They'd fight back, touch me, and I'd have a major meltdown. By the time I came out of it, the cops would be arresting me." Cody shuddered. "That would send me so far off the deep end that I'd never recover."

"Exactly. So, as far as he's concerned, you're out of the picture as the serial killer, and I think for your mother's murder as well. He didn't say what the discrepancies were between it and the others, but I have the feeling, if I'm right, they are minor enough that they won't matter when he does catch the real killer."

Cody looked thoughtfully at Brent. "Maybe…the killer didn't realize I was in the house until it was too late? Maybe I made a noise, my chair scraped the floor, or he heard the shower running—or something. He panicked, killed her without sticking to his…what? Modus operandi? And then got out of the house fast."

"It could explain the differences for sure."

"Thank you! Thank you for believing in me!"

"I never thought for a moment you killed her, Cody. Okay, maybe at one point I might have wondered, but only for a moment. You're not the kind of guy who could kill a fly, to say the least of a person."

Cody giggled, almost hysterically. "I've done away with my share of flies."

Grinning, Brent retorted, "Haven't we all. But you know what I mean."

"I do." Cody took a deep breath. "If I could, I'd hug you for all you've done for me."

Brent cocked his head. "Maybe you can, if I kept my hands behind my back so I didn't touch you."

Cody chewed his lip. "I… I don't know if it works that way."

"Think of it logically. You react to someone touching you. I wouldn't be doing that—making the first move, as it were."

"Do you think it's possible?"

"Are you willing to try?"

"I don't know." Cody swallowed hard. "If I…"

Brent rested his hand on the table, palm up. "Try it. I'm not going to move. You are." Cody stared at him, then at his hand, shivering. The look of longing went straight to Brent's gut—and his heart. "Do you trust me?" Brent asked softly.

Cody barely nodded. Inch by inch he reached forward until his fingertips hovered over Brent's palm. When they brushed it, it was as light as the touch of a feather before he pulled his hand back. His face was pale, his breath coming out in short pants, but it wasn't a panic reaction. It was as if he'd just run a mile and was trying to recover. "I did it," he barely whispered. "I touched someone. I mean…someone who wasn't Mother." He looked at Brent, his eyes full of tears. "It wasn't like being touched, if that makes sense."

"It does. You precipitated the action. It doesn't mean you won't lose it if someone touches you, but at least you know it's not the contact that brings on the reaction. It's only—and I emphasize only—when you get touched."