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Yeah, she tried to dump me in a Wal-Mart parking lot. That stung.
I turned to watch the car disappear as she got out onto the road, but once she was out of sight, I didn’t linger. I folded the cash up and stuck it in my pocket, slung my bag over my shoulder, and started walking.
I had those stupidly big sunglasses on, but with the sun shining overhead, I knew the brown dye on my hair had begun to fade. Here’s hoping no one would notice me. Or, if they did, that I was just a nameless guy walking along with stupid sunglasses, a shitty fashion sense, and a backpack.
The city where she’d dropped me off was about fifteen minutes away by car. Walking took a lot longer, but that was fine. I didn’t mind stretching my legs after being cramped in that treehouse for so long.
The roads all looked the same once you got past the commercial part of the city, but I managed to find the road I was looking for after a while, and I found my destination shortly after that.
Standing at the base of the driveway, I stared at Charlie’s house as I ground my teeth and glared—or, really, at the truck in the driveway. An older vehicle, the kind of truck any man who loved to work on cars would love to have. The kind that wasn’t full of technology and computer chips.
The kind that couldn’t be tracked.
That would prove useful.
Charlie’s car was gone, meaning she’d gone to class after ditching me. I supposed I should be grateful that she wasn’t here to see what I was about to do. She probably wouldn’t approve of it, just like she hadn’t approved of me taking care of Zak. But, you know what? I didn’t care.
Zak’s death had been born out of anger and jealousy with the slight hope that he was her stalker. This time it was different.
I walked to the front door, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the key to her house. I stepped inside and locked the deadbolt. Dropping my bag to the floor, I listened. I didn’t hear anything downstairs, so I went up to the second floor to find the bathroom door shut and the shower running.
My feet took me to her sister’s old room, and I saw that Dave had made himself at home. His suitcases were on the floor, open, clothes strewn about. The dresser had a few drawers half-open, more clothes haphazardly stuffed into them with no rhyme or reason.
Dave was a slob, apparently. How gross.
Since he was in the shower, I decided to get some things ready. Didn’t want to waste a bunch of time. I was on a strict schedule, if I wanted to get everything done today. It’d be a bit of a drive, but well worth it in the end.
I packed up his clothes, stuffing everything back into his suitcases. Everything that belonged to him. It was when I was in the process of grabbing everything in the dresser that my finger clamped down on something sharp. I pulled it back, away from the clothes, to find blood.
Just a drop pooling on my pointer finger, but it was enough. I slipped the tip of my finger into my mouth to lick up the blood, and then I searched through his clothes to find what had cut me—and what I found was evidence enough that I was only doing what was right.
A box cutter blade, the same kind I’d found in Charlie’s desk. And around it was a letter—a letter Charlie wrote, which told me that blade was the same one. I glanced over the letter, realizing she’d written it before, when she’d decided she wanted to die.
What the fuck was Dave doing with it? Why the fuck would he have this, not to mention the blade?
It didn’t matter. These things didn’t belong to him.
I set both the letter and the blade on top of the dresser and finished packing up his clothes. I checked the closet for any stray items that might’ve been unpacked there, but it remained empty. I zipped up his luggage and carried it downstairs. I threw Charlie’s letter in the trash, and I slipped the blade into my pocket for safekeeping. I got his truck key off the dresser too; I’d definitely need that. Where we were going, we’d need transportation.
I took a seat in the living room, and I waited. I set my sunglasses on the coffee table in front of me and lifted a leg to rest my foot on it.
I could tell when Dave was out of the bathroom, because a loud “What the fuck” echoed in the empty house. He probably went back to his room and found not a trace of any of his things. He’d come downstairs in three… two… one…
Heavy footsteps bounded down the stairs, though they skidded to a halt when he undoubtedly saw his luggage sitting by the front door. “What the…” He couldn’t even finish the question this time.
I coughed to alert him to my presence, and Dave stormed into the living room, dark eyes accusatory. The moment he spotted me reclining on the couch, one of my feet kicked up onto the coffee table, he sneered at me.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Why did you pack up my clothes?” When I didn’t say anything, when I only watched him with a smile, he took a step forward. “What the fuck is going on? If I have to call the police—”
My smile never wavered, not even when I said, “You won’t be calling the police.”
“Oh, I won’t, huh? Seems to me you’re trespassing.”
“Well, I have a key, so it’s hardly trespassing,” I quipped. I gestured to the reclining chair Charlie’s dad seemed to love. “Have a seat, Dave. You and I should talk.” The man didn’t move a muscle, so I smirked harder at him and added, “And, yes, this is about yourfavoriteniece.”
Something in him darkened, his nostrils flaring. Dave said not a word as he slowly took a seat in the recliner, just as I’d told him to. His brown hair was damp, his face freshly shaven. Staring at him right now, I could see the family resemblance. His dark features mirrored his brother’s and Charlie’s.
And yet, just looking at him I knew something wasn’t right.
