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I keep my eyes locked ahead. I don’t know what I’m going to say when I see him again. He could very easily tell me to get the fuck out of his life, but I know I have to try. Hollis stepped in front of me, tried to protect me from all of them. Even with his hands cuffed behind his back, he was willing to put himself in harm’s way if it meant saving me for only a single second longer.
That means something to me.
I can’t remember the last time someone was willing to endure any kind of pain or punishment in order to protect me. Elio was the last one, but he’s no longer that man. He said so himself.
The street is dark, nearly all the streetlamps either broken or barely flickering, and I have to consider the reasoning for people around here needing the darkness. What makes me want to run the other way is probably the same reason Hollis chose this place.
“That house,” I say, pointing at the familiar yet also strange house.
“This is North Sixteenth,” he clarifies, but I’m not going to argue with the man. It’s not like I had a chance to memorize the address when I was backing the truck out of the damn garage. And the first time I showed up here, I had a fucking bag over my head. “It’s not fucking safe for you here. Doesn’t look like anyone is home.”
The house is completely dark, but I can’t just sit in the car and wonder. “Give me two minutes.”
He starts to argue, but I climb out anyway, grateful when I don’t hear the squeal of his tires deserting me out here as I walk quickly toward the house. The closer I get, the safer I feel, but my heart is still pounding in my chest. I’m terrified, but seeing him again makes it well worth it.
The doorbell doesn’t work when I press it, and although reluctant to knock on the door for the attention it might bring from the other houses, I do it anyway. It goes unanswered, and I don’t sense him the way I did when I was here before. I press my face to the living room window, the one he was always so fond of looking out of, tears stinging my eyes at what I see inside.
It’s empty. The settee, the coffee table, even the small dining room table that once had two lonely chairs pulled up to it are gone from the kitchen. He’s not just out. He’s gone.
I startle when the cabbie blares the horn, but I know better than to stick around and see just how much attention the noise will draw.
My skin is crawling as I rush back to the cab, seeing a dark shadow move down the street.
“Back to the motel,” I say.
He doesn’t hesitate to pull away from the curb, just as the man in the shadows doesn’t hesitate to watch us drive by.
“I have a right mind to take you to a fucking mental hospital because you seem on the brink of a fucking breakdown.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him, wondering just how damn close to being right he is.
Gone.
I expected many things going to his house tonight, but that wasn’t a consideration. I knew after looking around the house for the first time that it wasn’t his full-time residence. It was too sparsely utilized. Someone doesn’t have to have any real personal effects to make a home feel lived in. Pictures of loved ones on the wall aren’t a requirement, but there was nothing that made me believe that he could’ve slept one night there prior to bringing me to the house.
After two weeks of us being there together, we accumulated packets of ketchup. There were dishes in the drainer.
Trash in the trash can. He left as easily as he showed up.
I consider going back to that office Nash forced me to drive to, but I doubt that Angel guy would help me. I don’t even know what to ask for. The woman might be a better bet, but there’s very little chance anyone would be there this late at night.
I have no option but to head back to the motel room. Maybe when Elio gets back, he’ll be more willing to answer some questions. Despite not seeming like the brother I loved all my life, I don’t get the idea that he’d hurt me. If anything, I’m a complete waste of his time.
Hell, coming back to the motel may be too much effort for the man. He warned me that if he wasn’t back in three days, it meant that he was dead. I’m sure that’s what he wants me to believe. If anything, he just left knowing he’d have a seventy-two-hour head start. He never meant to be found in the first place after all.
