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Grunting, he says, “When you’re not on shift, he doesn’t stay. Weirdo.”
“Anything in there about Lee or Abigail?” I ask, pulling off my apron and jerking my chin to the paper he’s holding to take his focus away from Green Eyes.
“Nothing new. If it is that Hollywell Slayer, I doubt they’ll catch him. He’s been running too long, outsmarting the police this entire time. They probably thought he was dead.”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“I’m done,” I tell him, grabbing my coat and purse.
“What, do you want a medal? Bye.” He shoos me away with disinterest. Jerk.
Biting my lip as nerves bounce around my stomach, I walk up to Green Eyes’ table. “Are you going to tell me your name?” I ask straight up with a confidence I don’t usually possess. A heavy silence hangs between us, his gaze on mine with such intensity shining in his eyes, I feel a rush of need pulse through me.
“When you’re ready to hear it,” He swipes out his tongue to dampen his bottom lip. What the hell does that even mean? I give him a couple more seconds. When he doesn’t say more, I turn and leave.
Pulling on my coat, I wrap a scarf around my neck and walk to the door, pushing out into the brisk night air. I see his green eyes on me through the window, but I don’t have time for games. There’s already someone out there moving me around a board.
When I get to our apartment building, it takes me a few seconds to be able to go inside, Lee’s death plagues me, haunting the stairway. Just breathe. One, two, three…
Racing up the stairs as fast as I can, I barge into our apartment like the devil is chasing me. “Charlotte,” I call out.
“In my room,” she calls back.
My stomach rumbles, and I curse myself for not grabbing a snack from work. I have around nine dollars to my name and a bag full of laundry that needs washed.
“The front door was unlocked.”
“Was it?” She grimaces. “Oops.”
Oops? Fuck.
“Do you need anything washed?” I huff out as she continues holding up different dresses against her body, undecided on which one to wear.
Sniggering, she says, “My soul?” She’s in good spirits, which is a relief. I’d worried the trauma was going to change her in some way. Like it has me. But nope, still leaving the door unlocked and her legs open. Guilt for my thoughts hits me immediately. She has her way of dealing, and I have mine—avoidance.
“How was your day?” I ask, moving around the apartment, collecting up the laundry.
“I didn’t lock myself in my room all day if that’s what you’re asking.” She winks.
“So better than mine?” I smile, looking briefly to the neighbor's window. Who will feed her cats now that Lee is gone? “Do you want to come with me to do laundry?”
“Oh, as appealing as that sounds, I’m going to pass.” She pulls a duh face.
“Lock the door behind me,” I warn her.
“I have someone coming over.”
I spin, dropping the laundry bag to glare at her, my mouth unhinged. “From that dating app?” My tone is accusatory and nasty. I shake my head and try to sound less judgey, “I don’t think we should be inviting people we don’t know over right now, Char.”
“I do know him.” She pouts.
“Who is it?” I raise a brow.
“A friend.” She narrows her gaze on me.
“What’s his name?”
“Tim.”
“Tim what?”
Huffing, she opens the door, picks up my laundry bag, and shoves it against my chest. “Bye, Liz.”I look around and see I’m alone.
The machines whirr and slosh the clothes around, and my heart begins to pound to the hum of the drum. It’s so dead on the streets, it’s almost eerie, like I stepped into a horror movie and Pennywise is going to appear from one of the washers not in use. I should have waited and forced Charlotte to come with me, but I’m running out of clean underwear and her rule of turning them inside out is just not something I can get on board with.
Checking my phone, I hover my finger over Stephan’s name but decide against calling him. He’s already done enough. I can’t just use him for rides when I have no desire to invite him up to the apartment and indulge in small talk. The door squeals open, nearly giving me a heart attack. Placing a hand to my chest, I suck in a breath. Green Eyes stop in the entryway, his brow dropping. “Hey?” he says, a question in his tone. Can this be a coincidence?
“What are you doing here?” I spew out.
Pointing behind me to the lost property box, he says, “I think I left my keys here earlier today.”
My pulse roars in my ear as he walks toward me. A mix of excitement and fear washes through me at his approach, an undeniable pull, but also a neon warning sign flashing in my mind. There’s a killer out there. Willis or someone else?
