Finally, he sighs. “I just had to land traffic duty today, didn’t I? Listen, I’ll give you a ride if you promise to call a tow truck on the way. You can’t leave your car up here like it is. It’s a safety hazard.”
The offer hits me like a cinder block to the face. I have to take him up on it—I don’t have another choice—but there’s no way I can roll up to the Airbnb in a police car. They might be watching.
They could be watching now.
They might already know I’m talking to a cop. Jesus. I have zero idea what I’m up against. But I can’t sit here with my thumb up my ass and wait for a tow truck to show up, either. I need to go, and I need to go right now.
With a shaky breath, I get out of the Jeep.
Chapter 5
GRANT
“Is this the right house?” Officer Gunn asks.
I nod. It is, and it’s a miracle I even remembered it. I didn’t give him a fake address when he asked. I wasn’t able to look one up without my phone, which I said I forgot in the Jeep. I had to borrow his to call the goddamn tow truck. And even if I had been able to come up with a different spot for him to drop me off, it wouldn’t have worked. I don’t have the time. It’s 1:46 p.m. and I’m already six minutes late. All I can do is pray no one is watching the place, because if they are …
Don’t go there,I tell myself.Just get inside.
“Thanks,” I say to Gunn, moving to get out.
“Why don’t I come check on your sister and make sure she’s okay?”
“No,” I say a little too quickly. “No, she’ll be fine now that I’m here. Thanks again for the ride.” And then I’m gone, pushing out of the cruiser and sprinting up the driveway toward the door—which is wide open.
And not just open. The glass panes are shattered along with the sidelights, the wood splintered, the frame bowed like someone kicked it in.
Because someone did, I realize with a chill. That’s exactly what happened.
What’s inside is worse.
I stop the second I enter, too stunned to move. The couch is shredded. Ribbons of stuffing foam through gills cut into the cushions. The ottoman is overturned, the coffee table broken. The floor is strewn in a violent constellation of shattered glass. But that isn’t what holds my attention. What immediately draws my gaze is the long crimson arrow glistening on the carpet, pointing toward the hall.
Blood.That’s all I can think as I move closer to it. They painted the carpet with Avery’s blood.Oh god.And then the fumes hit—harsh and sharp—and I exhale in relief. Not blood. Spray paint. And fresh. Whoever did this hasn’t been gone for long—if they’re gone at all.
“What happened here?”
I nearly jump out of my skin at the voice. When I spin around, I see Gunn pushing inside with a frown. I look behind him, and the sight of his squad car still parked in the street sends me spiraling. It can’t be out there, and he can’t be in here.Fuck.
“I don’t know,” I manage to stutter.
“Where’s your sister?” he asks.
His question doesn’t register for a moment, but then I remember my cover story. “I’m … not sure.”
He squints at me and then the arrow. The squint deepens. He draws his weapon and edges past me. “Stay here.”
I don’t. I drift after him instead, both of us moving into the hall, where more arrows soak the carpet. But not just the carpet. They’re painted on the walls and ceiling as well. Dozens of them—every one angling toward the master bedroom at the end of the hall. The door is shut, spray-painted with a bright red X that ties my throat in a knot.
What does it mean? Is Avery lying behind that door?
Gunn slows and places a single finger to his lipsas I near, his face pure stone. I can tell he’s pissed I followed him, but I don’t care. Whatever lies inside is too important to miss.
Don’t move,he mouths as he turns the doorknob.
I nod.
He thrusts the door open and disappears inside, sweeping his gun left to right. He’s only gone for a few seconds, but it feels like ten minutes have passed by the time he returns. His face is still grim, his eyes wide and alert, but he’s no longer on edge like he was a moment ago.
