AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When we reach the wraparound porch, I climb the stairs slowly with Memphis’s hand against my back, his body heat hitting me from behind. It’s so reminiscent of last night I have to squeeze my eyes shut to force away the memory.
The front door is cracked down the side and still standing partially open from the police’s entry last night.
When I feel Memphis’s hand drop away from my back, I look behind me to make sure he’s still with me, and his face goes stoic as he gives me a little nod. With that assurance, we step inside.
I push the door open gently, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dark, silent room. We’re in what looks like a mudroom, with shoes strewn about and jackets, coats, and scarves hanging up on a nearby coat rack.
I move forward carefully, minding my step as I have to climb two small stairs into the kitchen.
“This is where it happened,” I whisper, pointing to the kitchen floor where I saw her fall. The hardwood floors are an ashy blonde color, and I bend down next to them, searching for any hint of blood in the cracks, but I find nothing.
I look up to find Memphis circling the island, eyes locked on the edge. “Just looking,” he whispers when he notices me staring. “See anything?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.” Standing up, I move to the living room and search for any photographs that would connect the couple to this house, but I find none. In fact, there are no personal photos in this room at all.
Only landscape photographs on canvases. There’s very little here that I would consider personal. There are two doors on the wall in this room, and I push one open to find a small bathroom. I open the medicine cabinet, hoping to find a name, but there’s only a small tube of antibiotic cream and a package of bandages, plus an expired bottle of allergy pills.
I leave the room and head for the next one, which is a bedroom, but again, there is nothing personal there. The home looks as if it belongs in a magazine. Small and quaint but pristine. As if no one lives here at all.
Maybe Memphis was right. Maybe those people were the cleaners. After all, we only saw them coming and going a few times, and the one time she was carrying a box. Perhaps it was a box of cleaning supplies.
I guess that would explain why he was able to clean up the murder scene so efficiently.
I cross the room and check out the window, running my finger along the ledge to check for dust. It wouldn’t pass a white-glove test, but it’s not overly dusty either. It’s not completely impossible that the people were cleaners.
Turning around, I spot Memphis coming from another room off the kitchen. I raise my brows at him, but he shakes his head.
“Nothing. Just a bedroom, but it must be the guest room. There were just a few canvases on the wall, like in the living room.”
“Same in the bedroom off the living room,” I tell him. “I’m starting to think you were right about these people being cleaners. The house is spotless.”
From where I’m standing, I can see the back porch of our house and the rocking chair where I was sitting last night.
I know what I saw. I know it.
I cross the room to stand where she was standing and try to remember exactly where in the room she was looking.
“She was staring in that direction,” I whisper, looking toward the sink. “And there’s the light switch. Maybe she turned it on and ran, but he caught her. The light wasn’t on for long. Just a few seconds.”
Maybe I was her only hope, and I failed her. Maybe, when she flipped the light on, all she could wish for was that I’d be sitting on the porch and see her in distress.
Maybe she wanted me to rush over, to try and stop him, but I didn’t.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Memphis whispers, moving to stand in front of me. “You know that, right?”
I swallow, looking up at him. “I’m the only one who saw her. The only one who could’ve helped.”
“No,” he says, his tone angry. “You couldn’t have. If he killed her, he would’ve killed you, too—”
“I could’ve tried—”
“You would’ve gotten yourself killed.” He takes both sides of my face in his hands, staring down at me with such intensity I swear I feel the heat. His eyes flick down to my lips, then back up.
My heart thuds in my chest, thundering so loudly I can’t hear my next breath. Down his eyes go again, landing and lingering on my lips.
“Lena, I…”
Just those simple words, the whisper of my name on his lips, sends a bolt of electricity through my body. He shouldn’t be looking at me that way. I shouldn’t be looking back.
