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To die in a house that reminded him of home must have been another horrific layer to his last few hours.
That’s when it hit me. Maybe he wanted to recreate that shot. “Do you still have his phone or laptop? I know it’s been a little while, but—”
“I do,” she said. “I have his laptop. Probably needs a charge, but I’m sure it still works. The cops looked through it already, but, yeah, maybe you might find something else. Want me to grab it for you?”
“Yes, please,” I said, standing up from the couch. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. The connection between us was now established, and I felt like I got a good few pieces of information that could lead me somewhere.
Her two cats, Lacy and Macy, according to the tags hanging on their pink and black collars, both stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the windowsill, their tails flicking back and for, their bright green eyes staring daggers in my direction. They probably sensed I was a dog guy.
It didn’t take long for Amoura to come back with laptop in hand. “Here you go. I couldn’t find the charger, but you can probably order one online.”
She was about to hand it to me when a series of vibrations yanked my attention down to my thigh. It was my phone. I wondered who was calling, asking Amoura to hold on for a second while I checked.
My heart stopped. Frozen as if dipped in liquid nitrogen. I gasped. Audibly gasped.
It wasn’t a phone call or a text that took up the entire phone screen. It was an alert from my security system. There’d been a breach. The back guest bedroom window had been broken.
Someone was inside the house. Tristan, Eric, and Noah were all there, and someone had just broken in.
The ice around my heart shattered. Adrenaline flooded me as if I’d injected it directly into my veins. “I have to go. We’ll be in touch.” I had no time for courtesy. No time for thanks and see you laters. I took the laptop and ran out of her apartment, forgetting about the elevator and barreling into the stairwell, bouncing off the wall like a ping-pong ball as I shot down the stairs.
Two, three at a time. I flew down the stairs. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t fucking be happening. I took out my phone and dialed Tristan’s number. Maybe he had gone out for drinks. Maybe his friends suggested he write somewhere else.
No answer. Just ringing. Just the pounding of blood rushing to my head. Like the roar of an all-consuming crimson tidal wave.
I burst out of the stairwell and into the dingy lobby, nearly knocking down a food delivery guy. I didn’t care. Couldn’t care.
All that mattered was getting to Tristan. Keeping him safe. That’s all that mattered. A singular thought chasing behind me like a bloodthirsty predator:
I failed again.
15
GABRIEL FERNANDEZ
Tristan was gone.Taken. The Midnight Chemist had him.
My heart broke. My soul sundered itself in half. I couldn’t see straight past the anger and panic and fear, all boiling up inside me like the magma inside of an erupting volcano.
Eric and Noah were with me out on the front yard as my house swarmed with police. The rear window was broken, glass shards all over dirt and grass outside. Meaning the window was broken from the inside. The Midnight Chemist had already been inside my home. Stalking us like a silent predator, watching us from under the bed or through the slats of the closet door. A ghost that wanted nothing but blood.
And I gave it to him. I basically served Tristan up on a silver platter.
Noah’s face was a pale white. The raw fear in his eyes was magnified tenfold by the thick glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. He stood under a tree next to me, working through his shock, watching as the police worked their way through an active crime scene.
Eric, meanwhile, spoke with one of the officers. An old friend, judging by their demeanor. I didn’t have much hope for that conversation. I didn’t have hope at all. This was worst-case scenario, and it was my fucking fault. I never should have left Tristan alone. Not even for a couple of minutes. I had failed, I put Tristan in danger, I…
No. I couldn’t go down this road. It was self-defeating. Memories of my time in the Marines started to root themselves in the forefront of my mind. Determination and grit pushed me forward back then, when things were impossibly difficult. Even when it didn’t seem like there was a way out, I kept my head up and my thoughts clear, focusing on making it out alive.
I had to do the same now. Tristan could still be saved. It had been less than an hour since the alarm went off, and it was only one o’clock in the afternoon. If the Midnight Chemist was sticking to his signature, then we had a good chunk of time before the clock struck twelve.
I still had Grayson’s laptop with me. I sat down on the grass, remembering Aurora mentioning that it might need a charge. I held my breath as I opened it and pressed down on the power button. The screen remained black. I pushed the button again. Noah crouched down next to me, but his gaze was still turned toward the house, a ghastly silence hovering around him.
The screen blinked alive, made dim by the sunlight that tried to make it past the shade of the tree towering above me.
I held my breath and waited for a password prompt. None came. The computer opened up directly into the desktop. I breathed a sigh of relief, going immediately to the photo albums.
While the colorful loading wheel spun on the screen, I decided to throw a few questions at Noah.
