“Always good to save on gas. So environmentally friendly, too.”
“You don’t really care, do you?” she asks. “I know I was teasing you earlier, but if you two are just friends I could really do with the dopamine.”
She sure changed her mind quickly. The truth is, I mind to an alarming degree. Thoughts regarding someone else touching Noah make me want to scream and scratch stuff. Just go full-on harpy. But that’s my bad luck. I’m saved from having to respond by the dog. He starts barking a moment before someone knocks on the front door. The little dude dislikes visitors, apparently. How nice that my new canine companion (temporary or otherwise) and I have things in common.
Grace gives me a bright smile. “I’ll get it.”
“Wait a minute.” I follow her back into the lounge room, pick my phone up off the cluttered coffee table, and open the security camera app. “Just let me check…”
Meanwhile, she’s walking toward the door with her hand outstretched. She slides back the chain and turns the deadbolt.
And there on my phone screen is a collection of people. One of whom has a big-ass camera held up to their face. What fuckery is this?
“Grace,” I say. “Stop!”
But she doesn’t. It’s like it happens in slow motion. She looks back at me over her shoulder with a perfectly blank face while her hand turns the knob. The door swings open and shit. There they are. One of the podcasters from the new documentary with a cameraman and sound guy. All standing squished together on my front step.
Over on his bed, the dog jumps to attention and starts barking his head off. It’s a heck of a noise.
“Sidney, we just have a couple of questions for you.” The podcaster’s friendly smile is all sharp teeth. “You didn’t respond to our email or other attempts to contact you. This is your chance to tell your version of events. Surely you can see that’s important?”
Grace stands with her back to the wall. Leaving a clear path between me and them.
“Let’s sit down and have a conversation,” the asshole yells to be heard over all the noise.
“Get off my property.” I cover the space between us in an instant and attempt to shut the door. Of course, he tries to stop me. “Move your foot.”
“Hasn’t Ryan suffered long enough? It’s time for you to be honest about what really happened. How you were really involved in Briana’s murder!”
With my hands hard against the back of the door, I kick at his big-ass sneaker with my bare foot. It takes one, two, three attempts to dislodge the asshole. But then the door finally slams shut. I turn the deadbolt and take a deep breath. And then another, because what a clusterfuck.
Grace stands nearby. Her mouth moves; however, no words come out. Like she doesn’t know what to say.
I don’t have that problem. “Why didn’t you stop?”
“Sorry,” she blurts out.
More banging on the door. Footsteps shuffle outside. The dog stands at my feet growling. He is not impressed with these shenanigans. Which makes two of us.
My heart hammers inside my chest. It’s just the adrenaline pumping through me. They didn’t get in or hear anything of interest from me. Everything is okay. However, they do now have fresh footage of me for their show.
But my cousin…there’s something going on. She doesn’t seem to want to meet my eyes.
“Grace, didn’t you hear me?”
“I said I am sorry,” she says. And then nothing more.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. It’s okay. Guess they could just as easily have sprung this on me at the grocery store or something.”
Her shoulders drop.
“Why don’t we get those glasses of wine and watch something on TV?” My smile is guarded and fake as can be.
But this time she doesn’t seem to know the difference. “Sure, Sidney.”
You learn a lot about a house after living in it for almost a decade. Which floorboards and steps tend to creak or squeak. Which sounds are normal, and which are an anomaly. The dog stays curled up on his bed in the corner of my room. Whatevernonsense I am up to at two in the morning doesn’t interest him one iota. A sensible outlook on life. None of the lights are on, but I know my way around. Down the staircase and through the living room as quiet as can be. Go me in stealth mode. A ninja would be jealous.
Grace swears softly in the dining room. She sounds frustrated. The light from her phone is shining on the study door as she stands with her back to me. This week is giving real gain-a-dog, lose-a-cousin sort of vibes.
