Page 47

“Mr. Preswood.”

“I have already told you everything I know. I found him. I saw the mask. I lost them. You can take my phone. But if you think I am staying in this lobby while she drives up that mountain alone, I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”

Pell looks at Ortiz. He does not give her a better option.

“If you leave,” she says, “you are doing it against what I am telling you. Don’t wash. Don’t change, and most of all, don’t touch more than you have to in that house. A car will follow you.”

“Fine.”

They take my name again and photos of my hands. They hand me back my phone because the last time they took it, it proved useless. And when they finish with me in the lobby, they let me go.

I walk back down to the bay on my own. Shane is still in his seat, and someone has pulled his shirt closed. It does not make it better. I should have been the one who did that. He was my driver. I look once, then look again and walk away.

My car is still where I left it. The door is open from when I ran to him. I get inside, but I do not look at Shane’s passenger seat again. Pell is still inside, at the lobby doors and does not come out. I start the car, put it in gear and pull out of the row. A police car comes after me, late, like they meant to stop me and then decided following was all they were going to get.

The building starts to fade behind me but the memory of Shane never leaves me.

I drive toward the mountain with Shane’s blood still on my hands. I tell myself over and over in my mind that I am only going for Lena.

I am.

It is also not the only reason. I need to be in that house before the person who was in his front seat gets there.

Friday, October 31st. 4:18 a.m.

The house is dark when I get home.

I leave the engine on until I see the police car pull in behind me. There’s only one officer and he stays in the car. He turns his lights off.

Pell is still in my head. “Don’t wash. Don’t change. Don’t touch more than you have to.”

I look at my hands on the wheel, Shane’s blood still present but I go inside anyway. It’s dark, the air is cool, and everything is as it was before I left. I look out the window; down the slope the town is still lit up for Halloween. I bought this place because I could, and because it has the best view in Harrow Mills. Tonight every window looks like someone could be standing on the other side of it.

I do not put all the lights on, just enough to see where I’m going.

I strip and head for the shower, the water is too hot, but I let it run over my neck, chest, and hands until the blood starts to leave my skin. The water goes pink as it vanishes down the drain. I press my forehead against the wall and stay there until I can stand without seeing Shane’s mouth.

She told me not to do this, but I do it anyway. If they want what was on me, they can take it off the fucking floor for all I care. I am not letting Lena walk in and see me like this, it would freak her out even more.

I wrap a towel around my waist and walk along the glass. I look outside. Driveway. Police car. Trees. And then the bushes where someone took a photo of me once. Nothing moves outside the glass. The house is still, quiet in the night. That should calm me down but instead it does the opposite and my nerves stay tight. I get dressed because I cannot meet my sister in nothing but a towel. I put on dark trousers and a shirt with the collar left open. I pour a drink but don’t drink it.

I keep my phone in my hand and stare at the recent call list on my screen. Pell, Lena, and the unknown number I do not want to see. Then I see lights coming up the road, and for a second, I think it’s them—the figure, whoever the fuck they are. But it’s not, it’s Lena because she always takes that last bend too fast. I would know her driving anywhere.

She is out of the car before I even get to the front door. Her coat is on, hair pushed back, and she already looks like she wants a fight.

The officer gets out when she does. He waits by the door.

“I told you not to come,” I say, as she approaches the door.

“And I told you I was coming anyway. Don’t start with me, Rhys. I have been watching and listening to the news since Tuesday. You called me after that man in your building was murdered and after the woman on the stairs and you said you were fine. You are not fine, Rhys, and don’t try and convince me otherwise.”

She looks past me into the house like she thinks someone else is already inside.

“They started saying your name on the radio after the stairs,” she continues. “That’s when I left. I am not sitting around somewhere, waiting for someone to tell me that my brother is dead.”

“Shane is dead.”

That stops her.