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When traffic finally starts to move, I manage to get over to the next lane and turn at the light. I keep my phone close but it’s painfully quiet.
My stomach sours as I approach the driveway. And it goes downhill from there because I see Greer’s car. I thought she’d already left for the airport but then I remember that Manny was going to take her, so I feel better.
I get out of my car, moving my eyes around the house. The interior lights are on but I don’t see any movement through the windows on the first or second floor. So I can’t tell why Rigger thinks it’s not safe here.
I walk to the front door and enter the code that unlocks the deadbolt. When I get inside, I smell Greer’s perfume. It hits me like a thunderbolt. She’s here. Or has been here very recently.
A flash of something dark catches my attention upstairs. I flick my eyes up there and see Ritz. He comes down the stairs, meowing. I wait for him to get to me then scratch his head a few times. I pick him up and he lets me hold him for once.
“Greer?” I call out, looking down the hall, up the stairs, clutching Ritz to my chest.
I hear a noise. A woman yelling. So faint, in the distance. It’s not an angry yell. More of a panicked cry.
Ritz looks at me, purrs, licks my chin.
I hold my breath, turn my head to see if I can tell where it’s coming from.
I hear it again and my eyes are immediately pulled to the back of the house.
Every muscle in my body freezes, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Rigger’s words bounce around in my head …someone might be in your pool house…
I set Ritz back down and reach to my back pocket, feel the sheathed blade I keep there. And then I swiftly move down the hall, around the corner and to the kitchen window that overlooks the pool.
The door is open and the lights are on. I see the top of Greer’s head, leaning forward. As though she’s looking at something on the floor.
And then she stands upright, shifting her gaze to her hands, covered in blood.
Adrenaline surges through me and I bolt from the window to the French doors, jerking the door open so fast it slams into the wall behind it.
I run down the stairs and around the safety gate, pulse racing out of control. Panic rises from my chest and fear mounts with every step. And I tear ass through the small entryway, gripping the doorframe as my breath catches in my throat.
Legs wobbly, I stare at the sight before me, shaking my head in the biggest denial I’ve ever experienced in my life.
“What …?” I whisper. “What is this? What happened?”
Greer is kneeling behind a man, arms hooked under his as she drags him to her lap. His head is flopped over her thigh so I can’t see who it is, but I think I know.
A large blood stain blooms on his shirt, spreading bigger by the second.
Her eyes are wide with terror as she looks at me, her face twisted as if she’s crying but there are no tears streaming down her face.
“Call 911,” she blurts.
I take a step closer. There’s so much blood spreading along the floor. “What happened? Who …?Who…?”
She looks down at the man, eyebrows knotted up. “I told him this was a mistake. It was a huge mistake.”
I stare at her, holding my ground.
And that’s when I recognize the shirt.
The pants.
The brown Amadeo Testonis I purchased for him two Christmases ago.
And the face, when Greer pushes his head up for me to see.
“It’s your father, Tove. He’s … he’s dead.”
