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“No. Stop.” Tyler caught her shoulders, gently, securely. “She’s your mother. I understand.”
Quinn hated tears. Hated them. Especially hated that they were flocking to her eyes right this very second.
“We don’t have to go inside,” said Tyler. “Knock on the door, make sure she’s okay, and we’ll leave.”
“And then what?”
Tyler sighed. “We’ll go back to my place. You can figure out what to do.”
She shrugged his hands off. “Try not to sound so enthusiastic—”
He spun her around and seized her arms. “Stop it. Do you just need someone to call your bluff? Fine. Called. Get your ass up there so we can get out of here. You don’t need to be afraid.
I’m right here.”
Quinn stared up at him and gritted her teeth. She wanted to jerk away from him.
Sort of.
Okay, not at all.
She took a long breath. “I’m worried he’s still here,” she said, her voice small.
“Tony?”
The dark-haired creeper. She shook her head, then nodded.
“Or my brother.”
His expression softened. “Do you want to call your mom again?”
Quinn had been trying all day. Her mom’s mobile phone had been ringing straight to voice mail every time. She routinely let the battery die, so it wasn’t really a sign of anything.
But it bought her another thirty seconds, so Quinn tried again.
Voice mail. Quinn checked her texts to see if her little brother had written back yet, but he hadn’t. A phone call to him had gone unanswered, too.
Wind swirled through the open staircase and Quinn shivered and thought of Nick. She should have been dancing tonight, stretching her muscles in a warm studio, leaping and twirling through Adam’s routine.
Not trembling on her apartment building’s staircase, wondering if her mom was lying dead in her apartment.
She steeled her nerve and turned for the steps again. “Come on.”
Quinn pulled her key ring out of her pocket, but when she slid the key into the deadbolt and turned, she discovered that the lock was already thrown. Feeling her heart in her throat, she reached out and twisted the knob.
As always, the foyer was a well of quiet stillness. Quinn stepped lightly anyway, moving slowly along the carpeting. Tyler was a shadow at her back, mirroring her movements, creeping into the apartment as if they didn’t have a right to be here.
Everything felt wrong. The air carried tension. She expected to step on a dead body.
Stop thinking of dead people, she told herself.
Her cell phone blared into the silence. Quinn almost broke an ankle from jumping so hard.
She fought for the correct button to stop the call, but then she realized the display was lit up with Jordan.
She pressed the button to answer. “Hey,” she said quickly, her voice a whispered rush. He was fourteen and jaded, but he wasn’t an addict or an alcoholic. If she could help anyone in her family, it was Jordan. “Where are you? You okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.”
