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Now, it’s helping me commit a crime for the little brat behind me.
“Can you hurry up?” Hannah whispers after a few minutes of me fucking with the lock. And failing. “I feel like someone’s going to catch us.”
We’re standing in nearly complete darkness, save for the small penlight in my mouth to light up the lock. I shoot her a look and she concedes, standing quietly beside me, once more.
Finally, after a lot of bullshit, there’s a click and the lock inside disengages.
“September fifteenth.”
Hannah nods, opening her mouth to speak, but I don’t give her time before I’m sliding the door open and stepping into thedarkness inside. I locate the control panel on the wall beside the door and type in the code, but it flashes red.
“Hannah, plan B.”
“Shit.”
“Hannah.”
“Umm . . . Oh, August fifth! I remember her saying that was her anniversary with Marcus.”
I type it in and miraculously, the control panel beeps once, signaling the house is unarmed.
I hope.
“You’ve really got to get better at this if we’re going to be breaking into people’s houses,” I murmur as she steps through the curtain, hastily brushing off old spider webs.
“Oh, pardon me,” she sneers. “Let me see if they have a B and E class down at the local tech school.”
I swear to fucking God.
This little brat is going to be the fucking death of me.
“It smells really bad in here,” Hannah winces, looking around and covering her nose.
“Rotten food. No one’s been here for a while.” I keep the penlight low, looking at the stack of mail on the table. Bills Melissa didn’t pay, junk, more bills.
“What was she going to do with all this space?” Hannah looks around, waving her flashlight around the room and, consequently, the walls and windows.
Jesus Christ.
I push it down towards the floor and she opens her mouth to argue, but for once, she doesn’t.
“Parker bought her this place,” I murmur, stepping out of the kitchen and into the living room. “Way too fucking big for one person.”
“No kidding,” Hannah says, from where she stands at the mantel. There’s a picture there and upon closer inspection, I realize it’s Melissa and Parker, dressed up. Probably for a “party”.
Black venom slips through my veins seeing his face. He should be dead. Not cozy in his little private prison cell, being waited on hand and foot. Safe and fucking sound.
Hannah looks at me for a moment, then carefully, she reaches up, takes the picture, and lays it face down.
I move away from her, scanning the rest of the room and Hannah seems to abandon her search for evidence in favor of prying.
“I know you don’t like him, but . . . was he really into everything they’re saying he was?”
I can hear in her voice she’s not accusing me. She’s merely curious. As if she accepts my judgment, but like a child, wants to know the reason.
Unfortunately, for her, that’s the last fucking thing I want to talk about. She’s so fucking innocent, I’m not sure she’d even believe me if I tried.
“I thought we were here to look for clues?”
