I keep my mouth shut.
“She’s fine,” says Noah.
“Oh, I wasn’t asking about her.” Officer Smith gives me a look of distaste. “We like to keep an eye on the company she keeps. For safety’s sake, you know?”
Noah’s brows draw down in confusion.
Shit.
“He doesn’t know?” A wide smile splits the officer’s face. “Good heavens. You’re taking your life into your own hands here, son.”
“What is he talking about?” Noah asks me.
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Just a whole lot of nothing. I am so cooked.
Officer Smith laughs. “Miss Walsh used to date a convicted felon. A murderer as it so happens. Though they only managed to get him on manslaughter. There are still some who believe she was involved in the disappearance and suspected death of several people. Isn’t that right, Sidney?”
Noah just blinks.
Officer Smith smirks as he drives away. Such an asshole.
I swallow hard. My throat is as dry as can be. “I wasn’t involved. I didn’t know what he was doing.”
Noah just stares at me for a second. And I can feel a sudden distance growing between us. A wariness in his gaze. “I’ll walk you to your door.”
He closes the window and draws the curtains when he goes to bed. And I get the message he’s sending, loud and clear.
CHAPTER THREE
Acrashing sound wakes me. I bolt upright in bed at some small, awful hour of the morning. There’s the screech of tires as shouting and laughter comes from the street. My fingers fumble for the phone and taser sitting on the bedside table. It’s been a while since something like this happened. A few months at least. But my brain goes from sleep addled to wide awake in an instant.
The wooden floor is cool against the soles of my feet as I move out of my bedroom, down the stairs, and to the front door. No more noise is coming from outside. Everything is still and silent. As it should be at almost three a.m. on a Sunday. There’s nothing interesting on the security cameras either when I look on my phone. Though I check the front windows, just to be sure. Then I unlock the door to see what’s happened this time.
Lights have turned on in a couple of nearby houses. I don’t know what drunkards and assholes used to do for fun in this town. But harassing me is apparently a guaranteed good time and has been for years. You can’t really blame the neighbors for not liking me.
And there lies the reason for the almighty crash. Where my mailbox used to be are its smashed remains strewn across the ground. Tire tracks have also chewed up the surrounding grass.
Fuckers.
Noah appears at his front doorstep in a pair of sleep pants and a loose tee. “What is it?”
“Just some idiots being true to their nature.”
His gaze is dark in the dim light. “Does this sort of thing happen often?”
“Often enough.”
The lights go out in one of the houses across the street. No doubt somebody heading back to bed after checking out the commotion. Which is a damn good idea. The ruins of my mailbox can wait until morning.
I turn to leave. “Night.”
“Why do you stay here?” he asks. “If this shit is always happening and people hate you?”
“It’s complicated. You looked me up, right?”
His jaw tenses. “Yeah.”
“I’m not in the sort of situation that goes well with relaxing and enjoying life.”
