“Yep, fuck. She said there was blood on the ground, which there was, but when she went back to take a photo, it was gone.” At my questioning look, she adds, “Annie has a friend who ‘takes care’ of that kind of thing.” She taps a finger against her mouth. “Do you send a thank-you note for a situation like that? He was super thorough.”
I rub my hands over my face. This whole thing just keeps gettingweirder. “So, this neighbor lady thinks you, what?” I ask with a laugh. “Killed me?” When Emery doesn’t even smile, I stop laughing.
“I think so, yeah.”
“You’re saying this woman thinks she saw you murder me and do something with my body—”
“Probably bury you in the backyard. Or had Crash do it when he planted the trees.” She lifts her chin to indicate the new row bordering the property. “Ooh, maybe she thinks Crash and I are having an affair and planned it together.”
“Jesus Christ. And she still hasn’t called the police? I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“She used to have the police out in the neighborhood all the time, for everything from speeding to jaywalking to someone’s porch light being too bright. I think they’ve warned her to not waste resources again, and she’s a stubborn old bird, so I’m sure she’s determined to play private investigator now.”
“Wouldn’t the simplest solution be for her to just see me? I’m not actually dead.” I grin over at her. “At least not dead anymore. I mean, come on, Em, she’s just one person.”
“Luca, what’s Betty’s last name?”
“Carter. No, Carson.” Emery shakes her head. “Cooper?”
“Caldwell. What time do you go to work in the morning?”
I should know this. “Early?”
“What is Betty always complaining about?”
“Uh…”
“Speeding. Parking violations. Paint colors. Rogue butterfly plants. Yes, she’s just one person, but the last thing we want is the police snooping around. There’s too much surveillance footage from all the home security cameras and community watch programs. We don’t want to give anyone a reason to dig back into them and start asking questions.”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “Okay, fine. You’re right.”
Emery stands in front of me, her hand on my chest. “You know I don’t want to be right, right?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“We’ll just have to work on getting your memory back. Or cramming like you’re prepping for a test.” Pushing up to her toes, she presses a kiss to my cheek and joins Honey outside. “It’ll be just like college!” she says over her shoulder.
“I didn’t go to college,” I say, but they’re both already outside, Honey darting around the backyard, getting her zoomies out. I start for the fridge before realizing what I just said. Is that true? Do I remember not going to college or am I just assuming because nobody has mentioned it? It’s always sounded like I went straight from high school to working with Crash.
Going to the living room, I sink into the couch, trying to parse out what I’m feeling. Slightly anxious, high-strung, confused. Horny, if I’m being truthful. Which isn’t surprising, really. Today has been a lot. From the kiss at the beach, to the situation with the neighbor, and the fact that I don’t know a real memory from an imagined one.
I have the urge to run, to swim, tomove, and I wonder if that’s what I used to do when I was tense or thinking through something. I have the weird sense that my body is too big for my skin, and I’m uncomfortably antsy.
Emery has come in and is laughing at something Honey is doing in the bedroom. I want to ask her about the college thing, but I think I need a few minutes.
“Would it be okay if I took Honey for a walk?” I call to her.
Emery comes back down the hall to the living room, frowning. The setting sun coming in through the front window catches in her hair, painting her skin in a fiery glow. “Alone? Outside?”
“Yeah,” I say with a laugh. “Outside. Unless there’s a treadmill in a closet somewhere I haven’t seen.”
“Luca, you don’t have to ask my permission,” she says softly. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”
“No, I get why you’re worried. I promise I won’t talk to any neighbors or do anything to raise suspicions. It’s getting dark, so they won’t even see me. I’ll wear headphones and look completely unapproachable.”
Laughing, she tilts her head. “You? Unapproachable? As if that’s possible.”
I scratch my neck, wincing. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, because that’s not really what this is about, but I needsomething. “I just… feel a little restless, like I need to move.”
