Page 22 of Melancholia

Which is never something I’ve ever aspired to, and never will. That ship has long since sailed for me, and I’m just doing what I can to get by these days. Poorly, if tonight is any indication.

“Yes,” he allows finally. “To all of that. I grew up here. Hestia is my cousin, and we’ve always been close. Cecil was like an uncle of sorts to all the kids in town, and I’ll always appreciate that. But I’d kill them because jail is not an option, and I won’t allow you to make it one. But”—he puts extra emphasis on the end of the word, like closing the book on the subject—“they’re only in danger if you decide to put them there.”

The words settle uneasily in my stomach, and I look away from him, uncomfortable at the idea that I’m the one threatening the people of Still Pines.

“Your shift is ending soon, is it not?” he asks after letting the silence settle uncomfortably between us again. “I’m sure you’re relieved for Cecil to be home tomorrow.” I don’t know how he knows that, but I’m not questioning it. “You won’t tell anyone. No one you care about will die, and you won’t end up burning alive in the incinerator.” The threat is delivered with casual efficiency, and I immediately shake my head.

Movement from him has me jerking my head up, and I step back, pressing to the wall behind me as Amir strides closer. “Good girl,” he says quietly, when he’s invading my space and causing every cell in my body to go into high alert. “That’s all I ask.” Without warning, he presses my phone into my hand, holding it against my palm until I manage to curl my numb fingers around it.

“What do you want from me?” I’m finally able to whisper. “It’s not like I knew it was you. If you never showed up, then I wouldn’t have anything to tell them.”

“True,” Amir agrees. “But where’s the fun in that?” His head cocks to the side, and he reaches up with his now free hand to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Such a pretty little mortician,” he muses aloud. “With so many secrets and ghosts waiting to be uncovered. You’re like a puzzle just waiting to be strewn about and put together.”

Being compared to a puzzle shouldn’t feel like a threat, but it absolutely does. My body tenses like there’s something I can do, somewhere I can escape to. Unfortunately for me, all I can do is stand here, pressed to the wall of the embalming room with a killer in front of me.

“I’ll see you soon, Nell.” With that, he steps away. “Don’t do something stupid that makes me have to react in kind.” He delivers the warning with a quick glance from his honey-gold eyes and gives a soft whistle that has both dogs move to his side.

“Which dog was it?” I ask suddenly, the words escaping my lips unbidden. Amir stops and looks at me, brows raised, clearly telling me to clarify. “Which dog did you send after me earlier?”

“Ah.” He glances down. “Umbra.” The female wags her tail. “Why?”

“I have no idea,” I admit. “I just had to ask.”

I swear I see the twitch of a smile on his lips before he turns away again. Without another word, Amir pushes out the door of the loading dock with both dogs and simply disappears.

As if he was never here at all.

I’m left to slide down the wall and sit on the hard tile floor, hand gripped around my phone.

I could call the police, a tiny voice whispers in the back of my mind. They would catch him. Lock him up. He’d never see daylight again and wouldn’t be able to hurt me or anyone else.

But is that really what would happen? A different, meaner voice breathes into my ear. Or would you end up in the incinerator with Cecil’s and Adele’s bodies burning on either side of you? The mental picture is so strong and so visceral that a bolt of nausea twists my stomach, causing me to pull in a quick breath of discomfort.

I could call. Adele would believe me. I could convince her to believe me, I could⁠—

I can’t even convince my therapist I’m not crazy. The stark argument hurts in a way that kills any heroic urge in me. Struggling to my feet, I listen to my ears ring as I look around the embalming room, before slowly heading to the body storage.

I have to find the trocar after all.

Things need to be back in their proper places before Cecil gets home.

9

Inever sit up in the front—that’s Sarah’s job, and the receptionist of Kindred Pines takes her position very seriously.

But given that she’s out with the flu, or a mysterious case of going to the lake for one last boating afternoon, I doubt she’ll care very much.

Exhausted doesn’t begin to cover how I feel. Having not slept more than a couple of hours in the last twenty-four, all I can do is stare down at Sarah’s notepad. I pick up a pen to scratch at the top piece, though I don’t take off the cap as I make my small, invisible designs.

The fact Cecil is thirty minutes later than he told me he would be doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t even really surprise me, since he told me on the phone that he planned on stopping at the police station to ‘check up on things.’

Or, as I’ve learned over the past few months, to swoon over Adele. Normally I’d be restlessly waiting for him to arrive so I can finish up and go home. But today, I’m glad he’s late. I don’t know what to say to him—if anything—and while he’s not here, I can still exist in my bubble.

Little mortician.

The way Amir purred the pet name had been intimate. Since it was only my job title, there’s no reason for the words to make my stomach coil up in knots, or for the now-familiar shudder to trail down my spine like long, cool fingers.

Why kill Andrew? I want to ask now that everything is over and the sun is shining. Rationally, I know daylight won’t protect me from getting murdered, but this is one thing I plan on clinging to. At least for now.