“Good. And Anna doesn’t know about her roommate?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Hmmm. Notifications . . .”

  “Nothing worse.”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you think what Dad thinks? That whoever killed Kayla was looking to hurt Anna, and it’s somehow related to something he did when he was a cop?”

  Charlie’s index finger tapped the wheel. His lips pressed into a wire-thin line. “Why do you think I live with those two big dogs who bark as soon as someone comes near the property? Why do you think I have those acres? They make a nice barrier between the edge of my property and the house.”

  “A clear field of fire?”

  “I have a couple of rifles, but I don’t hunt.”

  “Why target Anna, then? Dad’s a sitting duck in that house. He can barely move. And you . . . despite your dogs, someone could get at you if they were determined enough. Why Anna?”

  Charlie remained quiet longer than she would have expected.

  He finally reached over and patted her knee. “You never know—we might find something out in Louisville.”

  27

  It took Anna nearly half an hour to find a parking spot within three blocks of Rachel’s building.

  She drove around—and around—and found one after just a few minutes, but a hipster guy with a beard down his chest and driving a Mini Cooper zipped into it ahead of her. She rolled down her window and said, “What the fuck, dude?” But he barely glanced back and kept on walking, acting as though Anna simply didn’t exist.

  She finally found a spot and lugged her duffel bag the three blocks to Rachel’s. The sun was setting and the streetlights came on, starting with a blue glow that slowly turned white. Anna felt a pleasant tickling in her stomach, the anticipation of night coming on. Going out. Losing herself in a crowd. Being in another city where no one really knew her.

  She huffed up the stairs to Rachel’s apartment, her shoes thumping against the thin carpet. Three flights that made her feel like an old lady. The weekend in Louisville was just a reprieve, a break from reality, not reality itself. At some point, she’d come face-to-face with everything she’d been ignoring—school, the future.

  Her family.

  But couldn’t she just get a break from it? A chance to breathe freely for a little while?

  Rachel’s roommate, Grace, opened the door to Anna’s knock. Anna barely knew Grace, found her tough to read and to talk to. They’d spent time together on previous visits, but Grace always kept a wall up. And she frequently disappeared without saying good-bye, to spend the night at her boyfriend’s apartment. Anna had never met the boyfriend.

  “Oh, hi,” Grace said, standing with one arm on the door, her body filling the rest of the space. She wore an oversized sweater and had her hair pulled back off her forehead. The apartment smelled like curry.

  “Hey, Grace.”

  She made no move to step back and let Anna inside.

  “Did Rachel tell you I was coming?”

  “Oh, yeah. For sure.” Grace’s eyes were wide and brown. She looked ready to turn tail and run. “Did you know Rachel’s at work still?”

  “She told me she got held up.”

  “She said . . . well, she said she’d talk to you when she came home.”

  “Talk to me?”

  “She said you could come in and wait. And then when she came home, she could talk to you.”

  “Grace, I just walked three blocks and then came up three flights of stairs.”

  “Oh, yeah.” She looked at the duffel bag for the first time, noticed Anna’s bright red cheeks. “Right. You want to come in.”

  “It would lift my spirits.”

  “Right.” Grace stepped back—finally—letting Anna in.

  Anna dropped the duffel onto the couch, felt the muscles in her shoulder scream with relief. The bag wasn’t that heavy, but it hadn’t been designed for long-distance hauling. “I’m just going to chill until she gets here. Check my phone. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah. For sure.”

  Grace still looked at Anna like she might bite.

  “Are you okay, Grace?”

  “I am. I’m sorry. I just thought of something. I’m spending the night at Tanner’s tonight. I mean . . . if you want to sleep in my bed, you can. The sheets are clean and everything. It’s better than the couch. I know that’s where you normally crash.”

  “Thanks. I don’t mind the couch—”

  “And maybe you won’t even stay.”

  “I’m planning to stay. But I don’t want to take your bed if you don’t want me to.”

  “No, I do. Please.” Grace still looked nervous, squirrelly. “I’m going over to Tanner’s house now. So you and Rachel can have the place to yourselves.”

  Before Anna could say anything else, Grace left the room. And within a minute she came back out, hopping as she pulled one shoe on and then the other. She grabbed her coat and purse and rushed past Anna, who was sitting on the couch with her phone.

  But Grace turned around at the door and came back. She bent down over Anna on the couch and hugged her. “Bye, Anna.”

  She left the apartment like it was on fire.

  “Freak,” Anna said.

  She turned on her phone. The flood. Again.

  “Ugh. I’ll never turn my phone off.”

  She almost couldn’t look at all the notifications. She couldn’t bear the begging and the pleading of her family. Didn’t they know she just needed a little space?

  But she caught sight of a message Alisha had sent: Can you call me? Please? It’s an emergency.

  An emergency?

  Anna’s mind raced to the last time she had seen the old man. Hobbling and struggling. A wounded bear. In biology class she had learned about an old lion that got driven out of its pride by younger lions. Then the rest of the pride left him behind to die.

  Alone.

  Her dad wasn’t alone. Her mom was there. But, shit, if the old man croaked while she was on bad terms with him, she’d never forgive herself.

  She called Alisha, who answered almost immediately. Like she’d been waiting for the call.

  “Oh, Anna, thank God.”

  “Is he okay, Alisha? Are they both okay?”

  “Dad and Jane? Yes, they’re fine. I’m right here with them.”

  “Then what’s the emergency?”

  “Oh, Anna. Are you at Rachel’s?”

  “What’s the emergency?”

  “Is Rachel with you?”

  “She’s at work. Why?”

  “Oh, Anna. You’re alone?”

  “I am. What the fuck is going on, Al?”

  “It’s Kayla. I have to tell you something about Kayla.”

  28

  Anna lay on the floor.

  Her phone sat nearby. A voice came out of it.

  “Anna? Anna?”

  Was it Alisha? Why was Alisha on the floor?

  A key rattled in the lock, and the door swung open. Someone came across the room, calling Anna’s name.

  It was Kayla.

  Kayla had come home after class. She came into the apartment like she always did, using her key. And she locked and chained the door like she always did.

  And the whole thing was a mistake. Alisha was wrong. Just like everyone in her fucking family was wrong about everything. They had screwed this up too.

  Kayla was fine. She was there in the apartment—their apartment—and she bent down over Anna and started speaking to her in a soothing voice, taking care of her the way she always did.

  Kayla was that kind of friend.

  “Anna? Anna?”

  She sat on the floor next to her and placed her hand on Anna’s arm. She brushed Anna’s hair out of her face, then wiped a tear off her cheek.

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I got caught up at work, and the traffic was so bad. I thought Alisha was going to wait to call. . . .”

  “Kayla . . .”

  “I know. I’m so sorry. It just doesn’t make any sense, Anna. It doesn’t make any fucking sense why some creep would want to hurt Kayla. I’m so scared, and I’m so sorry.”

  “No, Kayla . . .”

  Rachel crawled over to the phone and started talking to Alisha.

  “She’s taking it pretty hard. . . . I’m sorry, Alisha. I didn’t get home as fast as I could. . . . Maybe you shouldn’t yell at me right now. I’m kind of anxious. . . . Okay, I’m sorry too. . . . No, I won’t let her out of my sight. . . .”

  Anna sat up, and her eyes started to focus. It wasn’t Kayla. The girl had thick red hair. And she wasn’t home. . . . She remembered coming to Louisville, coming to Rachel’s apartment and Grace letting her in. . . .

  And Grace acting like such a freak. Grace knew. So before Kayla’s name came up, she had run out of the apartment like Anna carried an infectious disease.

  Anna’s stomach clutched. Her mouth felt dry and sticky. Her throat contracted.

  “Oh.”

  She sprang up off the floor and ran to the bathroom. She made it just in time, then lifted up the lid and puked everything inside her into the toilet with a wretched gurgling. A violent eruption and rejection of whatever was in her body.

  Rachel came in behind her, pulled her hair off her face. “It’s okay, Anna. Let it out. Let it all out.”

  Then Rachel handed her a box of tissues, and Anna wiped the spit and vomit off her face. She felt empty, like everything was gone from her gut.

  But not from her mind. Images of Kayla raced through like an out-of-control slideshow. Faster and faster the images went. Parties freshman year. Spring break in Panama City. Spending Easter with Kayla’s family, her mom setting out a basket for Anna . . .

  Her parents. Fuck. Kayla was an only child.

  To lose a child, your only child, and in such a violent way.

  “Here.” Water ran in the sink, and Rachel handed over a cup. “Drink this. Or at least rinse your mouth out. Get all that shit out of there.”

  Anna did. She swirled water around in her mouth and spit it into the toilet. Then she swallowed some, enjoyed the coolness going down her throat.

  “I’m so sorry, Anna. Alisha called me at work, and she told me what was going on. She wanted me here when she told you, so you wouldn’t be alone.”

  “Grace . . .”

  “I told Grace to keep an eye on you until I got here. But you know her—she can’t stand any conflict. Remember, her dad died in an accident when she was little. She’s kind of messed up by that still.”

  “I don’t care.” Anna put the cup on the floor. Her own hand shook as she reached out. “Oh, Rachel, I can’t fucking believe this. I just can’t . . .”

  She leaned over, collapsing against her friend. Rachel pulled her close and held her. Anna squeezed her eyes shut, let the tears come. Kayla. Not Kayla. Anna shook, gasping spasms rocking her body. Rachel held on tight, wouldn’t let go.

  The crying ran down. Anne felt emptied of tears as well as the contents of her stomach. She was a hollow gourd, one with only a few seeds rattling around inside.

  “She was such a good person,” Anna said. “Way better than me. Way better than almost everybody I know. She never hurt anyone. I should have been there. If I’d been there, then the creep would have killed me. Or we could have fought him off together. Both of us. But I left her alone—”

  “You can’t think that way.”

  “We should have called the police. She wanted to call the police, and I said no.”

  “Call the police?”

  “About the creep, the guy outside. The Rambler.”

  “I think you—”

  “It’s my fault. All my fault. She wanted me to start going to class again, to get my shit together. If I’d done that, then I would have been there and not driving up here. Fucking a cop.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I fucked a cop on the way here.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “I should have been there for Kayla.”

  “This isn’t your fault. A crazy person got inside and hurt her. You saw the guy, remember? He’s been breaking into places all over Breckville. He’s probably some pervert who’s into college girls.”

  “I really didn’t see his face. . . .”

  “They’re going to be after him now. Hard. The guy won’t stand a chance.”

  “I should have done something more that night. My dad always wanted me to have a gun. I should have taken it from him, kept it in the apartment—”

  “No, no. Please, Anna. Just take a deep breath. Don’t blame yourself.”

  She heeded Rachel’s advice. She took a deep breath, one that started down in her core and swooshed out of her mouth. She did that three times.

  “Better?” Rachel asked.

  “No.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to be. Not yet. You’ve had a shock.”

  “Did Alisha say anything else?”

  “She’s worried about you. Check in with her, okay? She’s worried. And I know she’s the sister you like. Even though she accused me of spiking the punch at your graduation party. And I totally didn’t, by the way.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “Although I always thought Avery was pretty badass when we were kids. She scared me, but I liked that about her.”

  “I don’t want to hear about her.”

  Rachel sighed and appeared to be struggling for the right words. “Well, you’d better get used to talking about her. She’s coming to get you.”

  “What?” Anna jerked away from Rachel. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “I’m not. Anna, they thought you were hurt. Or missing, or worse. They were worried sick about you. Alisha called me, and I told her you were here. She was so relieved. I guess they convinced Avery to come and find you. She’s on her way—or maybe she’s here. I don’t know.”

  Anger jumped into Anna’s throat. It burned more than the puke, and the flush spread throughout her body. “What is she going to do when she gets here?”

  “I don’t know. I guess she’s going to take you home to your parents, and then maybe back to Breckville. I offered to drive you back, but they said Avery was on it.”

  “Why does anybody need to take me anywhere? I’m not a child.” Anna realized her voice had grown louder and louder. It rang off the tile in the cramped little space.

  “Then she can follow you all the way. This has been a shock, Anna. You’re probably really wrecked inside, and it hasn’t all sunk in yet.”

  Anna placed one hand on the tile wall and with the other gripped the towel bar. She pulled herself to her feet. A little wobbly, like a newborn colt. But she was up, standing over Rachel. “I don’t want Avery anywhere near me.”

  “Why don’t you just talk to her when she gets here?”

  “Does she have the address?”

  “She does.”

  “No, I’m going.” Anna stomped out of the bathroom, started looking for her coat.

  Rachel came along behind, her bootheels clacking on the hardwood floor. “Anna, I think you owe it to your sister to at least talk to her. She’s probably worried.”

  She spun. “Do you know she calls me her stepsister, Rachel? That’s what she tells people. She’s done it since we were kids. Or she would say she had only one sister, or that I was adopted.”

  “So? Siblings can be shitty. While I was asleep once, my sister Nina drew a Hitler mustache on my face with a permanent marker. And it was the night before school pictures.”

  “She never accepted me. She never cared about me.”

  “She must care. She came all the way to Louisville.”

  “It’s not for me. It’s for him.”

  “Who?”

  “My dad. She wants to impress him. Or she’s trying to salvage any chance of having a career as a cop.” Anna punctuated her words with jabs of her index finger. “She wants to rescue me and drag me back and then probably be a cop again. Since she flamed out before.”

  “Wow, Anna. That’s harsh. Avery almost died in that accident.”

  “She fucked up. That’s all.”

  Anna sounded terrible. Angry and bitter like her dad. But she couldn’t stop the words that poured out—and the feelings that lay beneath them. They were there—a fault line waiting to rupture and crack.

  Rachel’s face showed concern, like she’d found herself in an enclosed space with a rabid animal. Her tone shifted, became more placating. “Okay, Anna. I hear you. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  “Good.”

  “So what do you want to do?”

  “Did you say Avery’s coming here?”

  “She is. She could be right outside. Or walking up the stairs.”

  “Then I want to get the fuck out of here. Just take me somewhere. Anywhere. And if you don’t want to go, I’ll go alone.”

  “No,” Rachel said. “I want to go with you. We’re supposed to be hanging out, remember?”

  Anna grabbed her coat, jammed her arms into the sleeves. “Right. Out. Anywhere, so long as it’s out.”

  29

  Yates studied the address on his phone one more time.

  He was in the right place.

  Young people moved around all the time, changed apartments as often as they changed clothes or got haircuts. But the address was the best lead he had, so he was going to check it out. He didn’t have anything better to do. And staying in Breckville sounded unappealing. The cops were looking for him there, for the murder of the girl in the apartment.

  Why sit around doing nothing, waiting for the police to kick in the door?

  The streetlights were already on. People came home from work or school, and then they went right back out, walking their dogs, picking up the poop in little bags. Yates never understood that. Having a pet, sure. But having to walk around with a bag of poop in your hand? He liked to walk in the cemetery by his house. People walked their dogs there too, and sometimes he’d find himself talking to somebody with a dog on a leash and a bag of poop in their hand. They talked to him like it was no big deal, and gestured with the hand that held the little bag. Yates couldn’t concentrate on anything they said. His eyes followed the bag like it was part of a magician’s trick. Like it might hypnotize him.