Page 30 of The Vacancy In Room 10

I continue to cry, quietly at first, then in uncontrollable hiccuped sobs. I try to explain what happened, but have trouble catching my breath. “He tried to kill me.”

“What?” he says, and I watch him take in the room, the scissors on the floor next to the desk, the marks on my neck.

“It’s my fault, I know, but I just... It was an accident. He was choking me, Callum. You have to believe me. I was defending myself. He...” I trail off, not knowing what to say, the trauma of it all still making my head swim.

“Oh, my God—wha...why?” Callum says, pushing himself up from the floor and sitting across from me. He stares, fear and confusion in his eyes. He picks up a cloth from the table and wipes the blood from his face, shaking his head in disbelief and looking down at himself where Eddie’s blood has soaked through his shirt. He looks like he’s in shock. “Were you mixed up with him?” he asks me.

“Mixed up with him? No. What does that mean? I don’t... I don’t even...”

“Drugs. Did you buy from him? Why was he after you?”

“Drugs?” I say, pulling up the hem of my tank top to wipe my wet cheeks.

“So you don’t know who he is then?”

“God, Callum. You’re not making any sense!” I stand now, pacing. “I know who he is. It’s fucking Eddie. You know Eddie. The idiot from 103. I found out he was hitting Rosa—like abusing her, so I recorded it. On my phone one night—so I showed him. Just now, I...said I’d turn him in if he didn’t leave her alone. That’s it.”

“Oh, Jesus,” he says. Now he’s the one cradling his head in his hands.

“What? I’ll tell the police the truth—that it was... I can explain that he had me by the throat.” I try to keep talking but I lose my breath, and my cries are mixed with shrieks for air as I panic again when it all starts to settle in. “Oh, my God.”

“Does anyone else have keys to the office?” he asks, and I shake my head, but I don’t know why he’s asking. “And both doors are locked,” he says, walking around and checking the locks, smoothing down the closed blinds. Then he stops cold and points to the security camera above the desk with wide eyes.

“Besides the owners who live in Phoenix? No. No residents. Why?”

“And both doors are locked,” he says, walking around and checking the locks, smoothing down the closed blinds. Then he stops cold and points to the security camera above the desk with wide eyes.

“Off,” I say. “Why? Everyone’s gonna know anyway when I call it in. We have to call them now, or they’ll think I’m hiding something—lying—they can tell that shit, you know. How long someone’s been... Oh, my God. I’m a murderer,” I say and before I can break down again, he stops me.

He puts his finger to his lips for me to keep it down. He sits on the couch and looks at Eddie’s pack. I sit opposite him, rocking, keeping my cries hushed, shaking my head over and over in disbelief.

“Listen, I need you to stay calm, okay. But we’re fucked. So just try to stay quiet, and I’m gonna explain something to you,” he says, and he’s beginning to terrify me almost more than the weight of what I’ve just done.

“This guy...isn’t just dangerous, not just connected to a dozen people who could have us both decapitated and left in a Mexican desert tomorrow, he’s cartel. And if I’m right about all this, we’re beyond fucked if anyone connects us to this.”

“You’re not making sense. You’re freaking me out, and you’re not even making any goddamn sense. First, how the hell would you know that, and...you didn’t even do anything! You just tried to help, so you’re fine. I’m the one who’s fucked.”

“Everyone watched me threaten him by the pool, his blood is all over me. Literally! And shit... I searched him. I was tipped off he might be...that I should be careful, so I looked him up. Online, you know? It was a half day at school, and when the students left, I learned all about the guy on a public school computer. Fuck. Fuuuuuck.”

“So what? So fucking what? What the hell are you talking about? If he’s that dangerous, then he’s dead, and the cops will see who he was—believe it was an accident—that I was threatened. Good. That’s good, right?”

“It’s not the cops we need to worry about,” he says, and I stand and begin to pace the floor with my hands over my eyes and my head tilted to the ceiling and try to calm down—try to take in what he’s telling me.

“I don’t know what that means. See...” I finally say, grabbing Eddie’s bag. I start to dump out Eddie’s things all over the dusty coffee table. “He’s a long-haul trucker, it’s all maps and porn and Red Bulls...” I start to rant manically but stop.

We both freeze when we see what actually falls out on the table—a gallon bag with many smaller, taped-up bags full of white powder and three stacks of hundred dollar bills bound in rubber bands.

“Oh, God, oh God, oh God...” I start to panic. I stand, then sit, then stand again and go to the office chair and try to breathe. “We gotta call the cops. Like right now.”

“Shit,” Callum says. “This guy doesn’t work alone, you know. When your face is on the news, then what? I want to call the cops and get the fuck out of here as much as you do, trust me, but we have to think a minute.”

I blow out a hard breath and go pick up the beer I was drinking and gulp it down. “Shit, shit, shit.” I try to get a hold of myself. “How did you find out who he was? How would you know that?” I ask.

“Anna.”

“Anna? The wife in 203?”

“Someone told her they saw him...like, off someone.”

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