Ang Haciendero at si Marikit

Jocelyn Nicols was leaving on another out-of-town assignment.

As her assistant, I packed her bags the way I always did, quietly and without complaint.

To everyone else, she was the celebrated genius detective, sharp and decisive, a woman who got things done.

Behind closed doors, though, her life was a mess she could never quite manage on her own. I was the one who cleaned up after her, every single time.

When I handed her luggage off to Michael Lanier, the department's newest hire, he looked confused. "James, aren't you going with Jocelyn this time?"

I gave him a bitter smile and shook my head. I didn't explain.

Back home, I kept cleaning the house. In ten days, no one would take this kind of care with it again.

While I was sorting through the file cabinet, I spotted the black box Jocelyn had hidden on top of the bookshelf.

Inside it were her notes, the ones that traced her theory on the decade-old cold case she'd never managed to close.

The Nicols family came from a long line of soldiers and police officers. From the day Jocelyn entered the academy, she'd sworn that until she solved that case, she'd never marry, not as long as she lived.

I'd been her childhood friend and quiet admirer, and I'd supported every choice she made without question. I followed her from the academy to the department, gave up my own dream of becoming a writer, and made myself her assistant without a second thought.

I'd chased leads on that case too, more than I could count, and none of them had ever gone anywhere.

Then, two years ago, I stumbled across this box by accident and realized Jocelyn had already found the evidence that could crack it wide open.

I wasn't chasing an answer for why she'd never told the department anymore. I didn't need it.

I was going to die soon anyway.

Jocelyn's flight left at three that afternoon. This would be the first time I wasn't going with her on the trip, and it left me uneasy the whole drive there.

By the time I made it to the airport, she was already through security. I could tell from the way she was pressing at her temples that her migraine had come back.

I didn't care that other passengers were staring. I walked straight up to her, found the pressure points at her temples out of habit, and rubbed slow, gentle circles.

"It's getting cold in Denton this week. Wear your mask when you're outside, and dress warmer than you think you need to.

"Your migraine medicine is in the suitcase's side pocket. Your stomach pills are in there too. Just remember to eat on schedule. Your health matters more than anything else."

Jocelyn's voice stayed flat. "If you're not coming with me, you don't need to lecture me like this. My brain is for solving cases, not for holding onto every little useless thing you tell me."

I nodded and didn't say anything else.

Not until she'd walked into the departure lounge, her figure shrinking further and further away, did I finally call out. "Jocelyn, isn't there anything else you want to say to me?"

Jocelyn's steps faltered for a moment. She didn't turn around. She kept walking.

A moment later, my phone buzzed with a message.

Jocelyn: [James, quit playing games and just do your job.]

Watching her walk away without a hint of hesitation, something in my chest twisted sharp and sudden.

This might be the last time I'd ever see her, and all she'd left me with was the back of her head, cold as ever.

Once she was completely out of sight, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my doctor.

Me: [I'm stopping the treatment.]