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I bite my lower lip, picking at the skin around my thumbnail as I wait. Then, it happens. The man steps from the front seat, and I feel Memphis grab my arm, prepared to hold me back.
“We have to call the police,” I say, keeping my voice low as everyone gathers around me.
“What’s going on?” Austin asks.
“That’s the man,” Memphis answers for me, keeping us hidden in the treeline.
“The man from last night?” Logan asks. “The one who…”
He trails off, but before he can finish the question, everything stops. The entire world tilts on its axis, throwing us down so we bang our heads so hard we hallucinate. That’s the only possible explanation. Because next, the passenger door of the car opens, and a brown head of hair rises from that side.
No.
No.
No.
It’s impossible, but as she turns to face us, I know it’s true. It’s her, but it can’t be her. Memphis glances at me, and I don’t have to meet his eyes to sense the betrayal there. He thinks I’ve lied. He thinks I’m crazy.
The woman I watched die last night is standing a hundred yards away, alive and well.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
“Lena, wait!” Memphis shouts, running after me, but I don’t care. I can’t stop. I feel like I’m losing my mind, like I can’t trust myself anymore. Like no one should trust me. I need to know the truth.
Is it really possible I imagined everything I saw? I know I thought the man was dangerous even before the incident last night, but this feels ridiculous.
The couple is crossing their driveway toward the porch when I approach them. Their eyes widen like frightened cats. I can’t blame them. I look as unhinged as I feel, I’m sure.
I’m out of breath when I speak. “You… You’re okay?”
The woman looks at the man, whom I can only assume to be her husband, then back at me. “Excuse me?”
The group catches up to us, and I hear their tired breaths behind me, though none of them say anything.
“Who are you?” the man asks.
“I… We’re staying next door.” I refuse to look at the man. Instead, I keep eye contact with his wife, speaking only to her. “I thought you were hurt last night. I called the police to help you, but you were gone.”
“What are you talking about?” the woman demands, her nose wrinkling.
I blink. The betrayal stings as real as a slap to the cheek. “I saw you. It looked like there was blood all over you. On your arms and your hair…and your shirt.”
“Last night?” She shakes her head. “Impossible. We weren’t home last night.”
“You were,” I argue. “I saw you.” A dull ache is forming in my temple, and I can feel my pulse pounding in my head as if it’s a warning.Run, run. Run, run. Run, run.
The man steps in front of his wife, his eyes dark and guarded. “Like my wife just told you, you’re wrong. We were out of town last night.”
“Who are you?” Memphis asks, moving closer to me. “We spoke to the owners after the police contacted them. You’re not supposed to be here.”
“What are you talking about?” the man demands, looking back at his wife. “The police were here? At our house?”
“Yes, along with therealhomeowners, who said no one else is supposed to be here,” Memphis repeats pointedly.
The man gives a breathless laugh of disbelief. “Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I don’t think you possibly can either.We’rethe homeowners.” He pats his fingers against his chest, then gestures toward his wife.
The wife who’s very much alive.
