Page 7

Noah is on the floor.

For a second I think he has passed out after sex. He is naked. His grey suit is in a neat pile on the table, like he meant to put it back on. Then I see the blood. It is on his stomach. It is on his hands. It is on his hips. It is too much blood for a game. There is no one else in the room. Only Noah. The room is silent.

I drop to my knees. His skin is already cooler than it should be. I put two fingers on his throat. There is no pulse. His mouth is open. There is blood on his teeth.

“Noah.”

He does not answer.

I do not scream. The phone is still in my hand. The line is still open. I can hear someone breathing, like they are standing in the dark with me.

“Who are you? What did you do to him?”

“Pretty when you bleed,” the close voice whispers. “He was. You will be.”

The line dies.

Footsteps.

Rafe Ortega comes through the main door hard, like he has been running. His shirt is open at the throat. He sees Noah and stops so fast he almost falls.

“No.” It comes out of him like he has been hit. “No. No. Noah. No.”

He drops beside me. He grabs at Noah’s shoulder, then his face, then pulls his hands back like the blood has burned him. He makes a sound I have never heard in a courtroom. It is not words at first. Then it is.

“Baby. Baby, look at me. Please. Please.”

Noah does not look.

Rafe’s mouth opens and nothing clean comes out. He looks at the blood on Noah’s stomach and he looks at me and his face goes white.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe says. “I was late. I was downstairs getting him a drink.” He holds up a plastic cup like it matters. Some of it has spilled down his wrist. “I was coming here to tell him we had to stop meeting in this building.”

“The call just ended. Then you walked in.”

“Because he texted me.” Rafe shoves his phone at me, screen still lit. I do not take it. “He said he was already down here. He said he was waiting. That is why I ran. I thought he was pissed. I thought he was playing.” His voice breaks. “Look at him, Rhys. Look at his stomach. Look at his hands. He was trying to stop the bleeding. He thought it was a game. I know that look. That is the look he gets when I tell him to take his clothes off slow.”

His voice goes raw.

“I did not do this. If I had, I would not come back with his drink in my hand and kneel in his blood. Search me. Look at my phone. Do whatever you have to do. Just don’t look at me like I put him on this floor.”

“Yes,” I say. “If you were smart. If you were cruel. If you wanted me to stand here and watch you fall apart.”

Rafe stares at me. He looks like he wants to hit me for saying it. Then the anger goes out of him. He looks back at Noah and that is all he can see.

Neither of us looks away. He has been sleeping with Noah in this room on Tuesdays. I knew. I also let myself pretend I did not. Rafe’s hands are covered in Noah’s blood now. He reaches for Noah’s face again and stops. He wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist like he is going to be sick.

My phone does not ring again. I wish it would. I want that voice back in my ear while Rafe is standing right here. I want to hear them both at the same time.

“Call Marcus,” I say. “Now.”

Rafe does not move.

“Rhys. He thought it was me. Didn’t he?”

I look at Noah’s mouth. I look at the blood. I think about the man on the phone saying Noah thought he was someone he loved.

“Yes. I think he did.”