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The officer pulled some evidence bags out of his pocket and trudged over to the blood spatter on the asphalt. As he stooped to take a sample, I glared daggers at his back. “I can’t believe he isn’t taking this seriously,” I said. “There’s fucking blood on the ground and he’s acting like it’s a joke.”
“I can believe it,” Erin said bitterly. “The local PD doesn’t give a shit about Kinsey because they think she’s definitely a murderer, and I bet they’re also super pissed that she got bail. So they’re probably hoping shehasdone a runner so they have an excuse to track her down tomorrow and throw her back in jail for violating her bail conditions.”
“That’s a good point,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. Erin’s theory perfectly explained why that asshole cop seemed completely unconcerned about Kinsey’s whereabouts and the blood spatter. “I guess we should go back to the house. See if Kinsey is actually there.”
Erin gave me a tentative smile. “Yeah. Who knows? Maybe she really did drop her phone and get a nosebleed,” she said softly. “She might be sitting at home right now waiting for you to show up.”
I tossed one last glare at the police officer. Then I strode over to my car, Erin in tow. We left the school and drove down the coast in silence, lost in our own thoughts.
I expected the house to be dark when we arrived, but it was lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Something’s going on,” Erin murmured, peering through the windshield as I pulled into my usual spot in the driveway. “The front door is wide open.”
I jumped out of the car and hurried up to the front entrance. Anna was crouched in the foyer, yanking on a suitcase zipper. Several other suitcases and bags lay next to her. I recognized one of the cases from Kinsey’s bedroom—dark purple with a floral emblem on the side.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Where’s Kinsey?”
Anna looked up at me. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. “I thought she was with you tonight,” she said, rising to her feet. “At the football game.”
“She was, but she left. We’ve been out looking for her.” I motioned to the pile of suitcases. “What’s happening here?”
Anna sniffed and wiped under her eyes with one hand. “He’s back, Jax.”
“Huh?” My forehead wrinkled. “Who’s back?”
She didn’t need to answer. Footsteps echoed in the foyer behind me, followed by a familiar voice.
“Hello, son.”
2
Kinsey
“Let me go, you fucking prick!”
As I shouted, I tried to free my legs from their bindings with an attempted kick at the door by my feet. All I managed to achieve was rolling to the edge of the seat and hitting my head on the back of the front passenger seat.
Mr. Blythe ignored my struggles and kept his eyes on the road ahead. A few minutes later, the car slowed and pulled off to the side.
“We might be here for a while,” Mr. Blythe said as he pushed the handbrake into place.
“Where’s here?” I asked. Given my supine position in the back of the car, I couldn’t see a thing except the night sky outside the windows.
“We’re at your house.”
“What?” My eyes widened. “You brought me home?”
Mr. Blythe chuckled. “Not exactly. We’re parked across the road from the front gate.”
“Why?”
“The signals from your ankle bracelet will tell the analysts you’re at home. They’ll probably be checking soon because it’s not far off midnight, and you have a curfew. We can’t miss that, can we?”
“But I’m not at home,” I said, forehead creasing. “You just said we’re across the road.”
“Ankle monitors determine location based on GPS signals being sent from within a certain radius. As long as you’re close enough to the correct address, no alarms get raised.”
“So what exactly are you going to do with me?” I asked, raising a skeptical brow. “Are you planning to keep me in this parked car forever so no one gets suspicious?”
