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“I can’t believe she would leave her dog,” Aspen says. “How could I have been so wrong about the kind of person she is?”
“You’re not the first person to misjudge someone,” I say. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
Edgar walks out of the kitchen, and then—
His shrill bark echoes throughout the entire house.
“What could he possibly be barking at?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
I follow the sound. “Edgar? What’s wrong, Edgar?”
I find him in a bedroom, and—
“Oh my God,” I groan, as my body goes numb.
I’ve seen worse. A lot worse, but Aspen’s right behind me.
I pick up Edgar, leave the room, and thrust him into Aspen’s arms. “Go. Now.”
“What is it?” Aspen’s lips tremble. “Let me go in.”
“Baby, you’ve seen enough in your life. Do not go in that room.” I push her out to the hallway and close the door, leaving her and Edgar outside the room.
Edgar was barking at two people.
Gloria Delgado and a man I presume to be her husband, Brian Hansen.
They’re both lying in their queen-sized bed, their throats slit.
The bedding is soaked with blood.
Nausea clogs my throat.
I’ll never get used to death. I saw it every day for years, and though I no longer double over and lose the contents of my stomach, I still feel sick. So fucking sick.
Of death.
I scan the room quickly for evidence of a struggle, but nothing is askew. No lamps have been knocked over, and no walls have been dented.
Either Gloria and Brian were attacked while they slept…
Or they were attacked by someone they knew.
I can rule out them being attacked while they slept because Edgar would’ve woken them up. Unless he sleeps outside, though the dog bed in the corner of the room seems to negate that.
So it was someone known to Gloria and her husband. Someone they trusted, someone who was perhaps staying with them and entered their room while they slept.
But more likely? It was someone they knew, who they let into their home. Who then drugged them, put them in bed, and slit their throats.
I can’t let Aspen see this.
She knocks on the door. “Buck. Please. You’re scaring me. Please come out.”
I unlock the door, open it, and then close it quickly behind me.
Aspen stands, still holding onto Edgar, who’s trying to squirm out of her grasp.
“Tell me,” she begs. “Please. I can’t stand not knowing.”
“I’ll tell you, but I don’t want you going in there.”
“You can’t stop me!” She puts Edgar down and he scrambles away, and then she walks past me and opens the door.
I grab her before she can go in.
“Don’t. You’ll thank me later.”
“You can’t treat me like this, Buck. I’m not that fragile.”
“You’re not fragile at all, baby. You’re the strongest woman I know. But please. Let me protect you from this.”
She squirms. “I don’t need your protection. Let go of me!”
Edgar comes racing back then and runs into the bedroom, barking.
“Please, Buck… You’re hurting me.”
That’s all it takes. I let her go, and Aspen brushes past me. I don’t hold her back.
Perhaps I can’t protect her from this. Perhaps she doesn’t need to be protected from this.
I walk in behind her. Edgar has jumped up on the bed and is licking the wound at Gloria’s throat.
The blood is beginning to clot. Both bodies are gray, and Brian—who’s much fairer than Gloria—is starting to look yellow.
They’ve been dead for a while now.
Aspen runs out of the room and retches in the hallway.
I go to her quickly, hold her. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”
She melts against me, says nothing, hiccups quietly, but she does not cry.
“It’s okay, baby.” I smooth her hair, kiss the top of her head. “It’s going to be okay. I promise you.”
How can I make such a promise?
I don’t know, but with everything in me I will keep that promise. I will keep Aspen safe.
46
ASPEN
“We should’ve gone last night,” I sniffle into Buck’s shoulder. “We should’ve called last night.”
“We couldn’t stop this, baby.”
“How can you say that? What if—”
“Shhh… We couldn’t have. Whoever did this was someone they knew. Look around. There’s no sign of a struggle. Nothing is out of place at all.”
“So you’re saying…”
“I’m so sorry.”
“But why? Why would—” I clasp my hand to my mouth. “Someone they knew. Which means this person they knew, possibly a friend, knew she’d been talking to me.”
“We can’t assume that.”
“Buck, don’t patronize me.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry. You’re exactly right. This was probably someone they knew, and it probably has something to do with you. Unless they were involved in something else that’s awful, which is certainly possible in LA.”
“But—”
“Nothing could’ve prevented this, Aspen.”
“She was a teacher, a coach, an athlete…”
“Yes, she was. But that’s all you really know about her. The person you knew six years ago probably doesn’t exist anymore. Look at how much you’ve changed.”
