CHAPTER 31

Past

I WAS SEVENTEEN when I saw my first dead body. It was Summer, my sister, her head slumped over and stuck to our kitchen table, blood staining her blond strands. Maybe, had I been older, it wouldn’t have affected me so strongly. Maybe, had my eyes not moved to the right, to the lifeless form of my brother, it would have all ended differently. Maybe, had I stepped back and left the scene, I would have ended up normal.

“You gonna check out or not?” The snap of the voice jolted me out of my daze, my eyes stuck on the magazine shining out at me from beside the register, the blonde on the front bearing a slight resemblance to Summer. A not-as-cute Summer. I reached in my back pocket and pulled out my debit card. Swiped it through the reader without responding. Felt the moment the guy next in line shifted impatiently.

This was a horrible idea. I blame Paul. He’d started crunching on an apple halfway through our phone call, and I’d had the sudden urge for fruit. I could just picture a crisp green apple. Then I’d wanted grapes. And watermelon. I hadn’t had watermelon since Before. Before Summer’s dead head on that table. Before the night that had destroyed everything. A few years ago, I’d have just suffered. Ate a few extra TV dinners and ignored the cravings. But now, with Jeremy in my life, I’d gotten used to demanding. Texting him and asking for ice cream, or Olive Garden breadsticks and Alfredo, or whatever freakish thing my stomach was suddenly aware it was deprived of.

But I couldn’t exactly scream Jeremy out of my apartment, then ask him to run to the grocery store for a snack. Even relationship-impaired me knew that. Plus, his obsession over his sister’s dinner seemed to cause any outing of mine to be cause for debate. So it was out of principle that I put the tennis shoes—the same ones that started our damn fight—back on, grabbed my keys, and jogged down to my car.

Dr. Derek will flip out when I tell him, his controlled exhales audible through the phone receiver. He’ll be upset at me. Yell in the only way that he does: calm, controlled sentences laced with sexual intent, his hand unbuckling and drawing out his black leather belt, his eyes darkening as he orders me to bend over and pull up my skirt. At least that’s how I picture it. And maybe the threat of a Dr. Derek lecture had been another catalyst for my grocery run. It was apples and oranges for God’s sake. I could handle it. Of course, I had said that before to disastrous results. I waited for the receipt and vowed to not leave the apartment again. Not for at least two weeks.

Two weeks. It seemed an eternity, but a year ago, it would have been nothing. Fourteen days out of a thousand.

Yes. I’d carry my eight apples, two pears, three oranges, and two mangoes into my apartment and then stop. Stay. Return to the plan that works. Me: inside. Everyone else: outside. With Jeremy the lone exception.

I took a final, wistful breath of grocery store freedom, and pocketed the receipt. “Thanks.” I smiled at the cashier.

“Have a nice day and come back soon.”

“I will.” Not. I will not. I will behave.

CHAPTER 32

Past

THE PHONE RANG and I reached for it blindly, my hand thumping along the bed until I felt it.

“What,” I mumbled into the receiver, the word muffled by a down pillow wrapped in a thousand-thread-count pillowcase.

“Hey, baby.”

“Mike.”

“You don’t sound happy to hear from me.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s ten fifteen. You should have been online an hour ago. Get your ass up.”

I rolled over. Ten fifteen? That was weird. I never slept past eight. I lifted the phone from my ear and checked the display. Damn. He was right.

“What?” I repeated, my limbs loose and relaxed, going right back to sleep a serious consideration depending on the rate at which I could wrap up this call.

“Just wanted to let you know the final deposit just hit your Cayman account. You are officially paid back in full.”

“With interest?” I rolled back onto my stomach.

“My finger was the interest. I just wanted to give you the good news so that you could gush your thanks verbally.”

“Thanks.”

“Your gushing sucks.”

“Your timing sucks. Let me go back to sleep.”

“Come on… you should be up and working. This isn’t like you. What’s wrong?”

Sometimes I would have preferred he didn’t have such a finger on my temperature. “I’m tired. Sleepy. You’re annoying me. I’d hang up on you and turn off my phone if I thought there was any way of avoiding you.”

He laughed. “No. It’s something else. Talk to me. Normally I’d have at least got a halfhearted slap on the back for replenishing your accounts.”

I said nothing. Closed my eyes and tried to sink further into the bed.

“Is it Jeremy?”

I didn’t respond.

“What, you guys get in a fight?”

I frowned. “Try not to sound so excited at the possibility.”

“That’s not excitement, it’s shock. About time the idiot wised up and ran away from you.”

“He didn’t ‘run away.’” I spit out the words. “And I’ll have you know I’m an excellent girlfriend.”

“In what way?” There was a flirtatious challenge in the words. “Please, you beautiful vixen. Tell me exactly what you do to him. Let me turn green with envy.”

I evaded the easy bait. “I didn’t have to buy him a house. There’s not a line in the girlfriend manual that says if you blow up his house that you have to replace it. So there. That counts for something. I am an awesome girlfriend.”

“Did you listen to what you just said?” He laughed. “The blowing up of his house cancels out any replacement. WAY cancels it out. Try again, princess.”

“I’m really done talking.” And I was. The phone call had only gone downhill after his update of money.

“Aww… don’t be like that. I’m sorry, babe. I’ll behave. Hey, you know I love you regardless. You can come over here and chop me to bits anytime. Just be naked when you do it.”

I couldn’t help myself. I smiled despite every urge to frown. “I’m going back to sleep.” I managed the words without any trace of humor, my smile hidden by the manufactured grouch in my tone.

“I know you’re smiling.”

“I’m not,” I growled.

“Whatever. Get up. Get sexy and treat yourself to lunch with this Cayman windfall. Just don’t take the delivery boy. It’ll ruin all my good feelings over crossing this off my list.”

“Bye, Mike.” I should have hung up, but I waited, a smile on my lips, my hand raised, the phone smushed to my ear.

“Bye, baby.”

I hung up.

CHAPTER 33

Present

“WE GOT THE report back on Pacer.”

“And?”

“He was stabbed five times. The majority in the chest area, but you’ve seen that from the photos.”

“What happened first, the ass kicking or stab wounds?” Brenda looks over at David, her pen slowing in its journey across the form.

“They don’t know. Can’t tell.”