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At dinner tonight, I had asked for an update on the murder, but Haut was tight-lipped with the details. He knows something, but he’s keeping it a secret from me, which set off my short temper, and we ended the night yelling at each other.
When Ros left for his evening patrol, Haut had gone with him, leaving just Owen and Tris with me in the house.
I walk across the hall, my feet cold on the hardwood before the carpet runner at the center offers a temporary reprieve that vanishes as soon as I step toward my old bedroom.
When I open the door, moonlight spills through the curtain. While Tris took over the space, he only uses it to store his clothes. Mel had finished moving out earlier in the week, but Tris is in no hurry to regain his private space. The twin-sized bed that had been mine during the summers when I visited here is perfect for my height but leaves Tris’s feet dangling off the end.
That doesn’t mean signs of his use aren’t present in the spill of belongings across the handmade quilt on the bed or the piles of clothes that dot the floor.
I shove the stuff to the foot of the bed and crawl between the sheets, curling into a ball. The scent of lavender clings to the pillow, reminding me of my grandma in the garden. The bunny wall runner dredges up the memory of hot summers filled with lemonade on the porch and the soft crush of grass under my bare feet.
But even in the comfort of my childhood bed, sleep eludes me. Memories of childhood inevitably lead to my last moments in Hartford Cove, which ended in blood and death. And those thoughts circle me back to the dead wolfman in the woods outside my house. Which brings up questions and worries that can’t be resolved without knowing more about the murder.
Tossing and turning in frustration, I sit up and press my palms against my closed eyes until the images vanish and all I see is red.
Maybe Tris is right, and I need to take the sleeping pills. One night won’t make me reliant on them, and uninterrupted sleep will take away this constant exhaustion.
I slip back out of bed and pad into the bathroom, making sure the connecting door is shut so I don’t disturb Owen before I flip on the light. Tris’s scrubs still lie on the floor from his shower earlier, and I shake my head at what a slob he is. It’s not like he’s the only one who uses this bathroom.
Stepping over them, I open the medicine cabinet.
Razors and toothbrushes sit next to the two bottles of untouched pills Dr. Lopez sent home with me. My hand shakes as I reach for the one to help me sleep, and my fingers curl against my palm before I touch the bottle, my body rejecting the very thought of holding them.
As much as I need sleep, I just can’t bring myself to take the pills.
I close the medicine cabinet, and my exhausted face stares back at me from the mirror. My blue eyes look fever bright against the red that surrounds my irises, and dark shadows give my face a sunken appearance.
Tris isn’t wrong. Looking at me makes me even more tired.
When I turn away from the mirror, my foot bumps against his scrubs, and I bend to pick them up. As I lift them, keys fall out of his pocket, and my pulse quickens.
I’ve been trying to sneak Tris’s keys to the clinic all week, but the guys are always around me. Now, here I am alone, and there the keys are, just begging to be used.
It looks like I needed to be even less devious than I thought.
I pick the keys up and hurry back into the bedroom, where I dig out a pair of my pink sweats that Tris likes to wear from a basket that smells clean. Changing out of my pajama pants, I pull on one of Tris’s T-shirts. In the small closet, I find my unicorn sneakers, no longer white and with the lights broken, and slip them on.
Then, I head for the window that overlooks the beach. If I go downstairs and out the front door, all the creaks of the old house will wake Owen up with his super hearing. By taking the less direct route, no one will be the wiser.
The window slides up silently, and I step out onto the porch roof, then tiptoe along the side of the house toward the front. There, I scoot to the edge of the roof backward on my hands and knees and dangle off the edge before dropping into the bushes next to the railing.
As quietly as possible, I escape their leafy embrace and walk along the grass next to the gravel driveway, making my way toward town.
The cool night air slips through my thin T-shirt, raising goose bumps on my skin and making me regret not grabbing a sweatshirt, too. The first day of fall has arrived, and it’s like nature hit a switch in Hartford Cove, bringing chilly nights.
Hartford Cove at night creeps me out, with all the dark windows facing the empty street. I hurry down Main Street, clutching the keys in my pocket.
As I approach the clinic, I spot a patrolman up ahead, his flashlight sweeping across the path.
My heart races, and I duck into a narrow alcove, hiding in the shadows.
The footsteps draw closer, echoing in the silence, and I hold my breath, praying he won’t spot me. While I won’t be thrown in jail for being out this late, they’ll definitely tell my mates, and that will ruin my reputation as a master thief.
After an eternity, the patrolman moves on, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I wait a few moments to make sure he’s far enough away before continuing to the clinic.
The biggest key on the ring opens the front door, and I slip inside.
Shadows fill the entrance, and I resist the urge to turn on any lights, not wanting to alert anyone to my presence. Instead, I navigate the dimly lit hallway with the help of the night lights plugged in along the way.
