Page 6 of Nocturnes & Nightmares

“Oli! Unlatch the seat!”

A click signals his compliance, and I fold down the seat to see him curled so tight within himself he looks smaller than a ten-year-old. Or perhaps more fragile.

“C’mon, baby. Come out of there.” I reach for him, but he shakes his head. “Oli, what happened? Where’s your dad?”

His brows dip, eyes brimming with tears, and he shakes his head, but doesn’t say a word. Instead, he claps his hands over his ears, and screws his eyes shut.

“Is he inside? In the building?” It occurs to me that Denny could be actively dying somewhere right now. I push to my feet, but my arm is yanked by ice cold hands.

Eyes wide and panicked, Oliver tries to pull me into the car, his effort so ardent, he leaves scratch marks down my skin.

“Hey, hey.” Without much choice, I settle next to him and stroke his hair to calm him, while he clings to my arm. “Your dad sounded like he needed help. I just want to check on him.” My heart is breaking as I watch the tears slip down his cheeks. A ghost white pallor blanches his usual olive skin tone and he tugs harder and shakes his head.

“Oliver, tell me what happened? Is someone here?”

More tears fill his eyes, and when he nods, my stomach twists at the thought that we’re not alone.

“Talk to me. Why won’t you talk?”

He ignores me, and though I know it’s not out of defiance, the stress is beginning to wear me down, taunting my patience.

“Did you see something?”

His eyes screw tight, his nails digging into my skin, as though my question has planted something horrific inside his mind.

Headlights flash, and on instinct, I duck down, watching as they flick off, and I can make out my brother’s pickup truck idling into the yard.

“Uncle Jonah’s here.”

A police cruiser trails behind him, and relief washes over me. I tug Oliver over the folded seat and wrap my arms around him, noticing the incessant tremble.

Removing his coat, Jonah approaches the two of us, wrapping Oliver up in a thick wool trench. “Grim and Jeff are going to scope it out. Is he okay?”

I shake my head, letting the first round of tears escape. “He won’t say a word.”

“Is Denny inside?”

“I think so.”

“Anyone else?”

“Yes. I think there is.”

The fuzzy interruption of Jonah’s walkie-talkie steels my muscles, as I wait to hear an update on Denny.

Jonah steps away from us, and as I lurch forward to follow, fingernails dig into my skin, and Oliver buries his face in my neck.

Brows furrowed, I focus on the murmurings of what little I can hear through that two-way, but one code is unmistakable. It sits heavy on my heart, pulling me under the surface.

The code for murder death kill.

“You’re gonna want to come see this.” Grim’s voice bears the tone of his name. “Oh, God.” The gag that follows has my chest feeling numb and cold, and I can barely hang on to Oliver with the weakness settling over me.

“Jonah?” Everything is spinning around me too fast to grasp, and I rest my head against Oliver’s, breathing hard through my nose, until it passes and I can set my attention back on my brother. “Jonah?”

Another siren comes with the approach of an ambulance, blocking out the important pieces of the conversation that have Jonah rubbing his brow and shaking his head.

An irritation that makes me want to run into the building and see for myself.