Page 77 of Wicked Nightmare

The ride through the neighborhood was surreal, as it always was. We passed from our shitty part of town, all crumbling buildings and flickering streetlights, into Janine's oh-so-respectable domain. The contrast was stark: manicured lawns, gleaming SUVs in driveways, the whole suburban wet dream. And we were only really about three or four blocks apart.

"Makes me want to puke," Cam said, echoing my thoughts.

I snorted. "Bet half these perfect families have some nasty skeletons in their closets. Maybe we should stick around, do a little spring cleaning."

We stopped our bikes about a block away from our target. As we got off, a dog barked in the distance, and I tensed, scanning the quiet street.

"Relax," Cam's voice was low in my ear. "We've got this."

I nodded, forcing myself to breathe. The twin knives strapped to my thighs was comforting. Whatever happened tonight, we'd handle it. We always did.

As we crept towards Janine's house, my thoughts wouldn't quiet long enough for me to figure them out. What would we find inside? More importantly, was I ready for the answers? A small, traitorous part of me whispered that maybe some secrets were better left buried.

I crushed that thought ruthlessly. No turning back now. Whatever the truth was, I needed it. And if anyone tried to stop us, well, let's just say I was itching to start a domino effect of burying skeletons in closets.

The stillness hit me as we reached the walkway. Everything was too quiet, too still, like no one had ever lived here. My skin prickled, every sense on high alert.

"Fuck me," I whispered, eyeing the overgrown lawn and wilted flowers. "This place looks like it's been run into the ground since we were last here."

Cam scanned the house. "No lights, no car. Doesn't look like anyone's been home in a while. But it was like this the last time we came. I guess no one came back, confirming my suspicion. She's moving on to her next alias. But... what did she do with the girl?"

The girl. Lillianna. Even thinking her name made something tighten in my chest, in a place I didn't know I had feelings.

A place I didn’t want feelings.

I crouched down, running my fingers over the brittle grass. "Dead as disco. Just like all those foster families' hopes for me." I flashed Cam a grin.

"Oh babe, you were an A+ pupil in my eyes."

"Yeah, that's just cuz I'm amazing at sucking dick." I winked, sticking my tongue out and loving how his eyes darkened. I turned, walking to the side of the house, motioning for Cam to follow.

We crept towards the back door, sticking to the shadows. Every snapping twig was deafening in the silence. My hands trembled with excitement and something darker, more primal.

"She couldn't have actually just skipped town," I said. "Who the fuck does that?"

Cam shrugged, working on the lock. "Maybe. Or maybe she's in the house next door setting up for a new kid. I dunno."

The lock clicked open. We exchanged a look. This was it. Whatever waited inside, there was no going back now.

"Ladies first," Cam smirked, gesturing to the door.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the rush of affection. Even facing potential disaster, he could still make me smile. "My hero," I said, then slipped inside, knife at the ready.

The house was pitch black, the air stale and thick. Every instinct screamed danger, but I pushed forward. Who fucking knows, maybe the bitch booby trapped it for us. I'd love to see the day.

"Watch your step," Cam whispered, close behind me. "And for fuck's sake, don't touch anything you don't absolutely need to touch. I keep fucking forgetting to grab gloves like some novice serial killer."

I nodded, though he probably couldn't see it. My fingers twitched, itching to explore, to uncover secrets. But Cam was right. We couldn't afford to leave traces.

As we moved deeper into the house, it grew more musty. This place hadn't just been abandoned. It had been evacuated. The furniture was still here, the curtains still hung, but everything personal was gone. No shoes by the door. No coats on the hooks. No magnets on the fridge. It was a house with the person scraped out of it.

Lillianna's room would be upstairs. The pink curtains were gone from the window, I'd seen that from outside, but maybe something else remained. A toy she'd left behind. A drawing on the wall. Something that proved she'd been here and been real and been safe.

"You take the upstairs," I whispered to Cam. "I'll sweep down here."

He hesitated, clearly not wanting to split up, but efficiency won out. With a curt nod, he headed for the stairs, leaving me alone in the suffocating darkness.

My heart settled as I crept through the living room, each step calculated. The beam of my flashlight cut through the darkness, revealing layers of dust and neglect. On the mantle was one single photo. Janine holding a baby.