Page 88 of The Roommate Lie

Chapter Forty-Six

ALICE

Charlie’s been gone for hours. He left while I was writing upstairs, and I’m not sure where he went. By the time I go to bed, he still isn’t home, but that isn’t why I can’t sleep.

I wish it was. I worked on my book for hours—writing about a new love interest who’s more like Charlie than I want to admit—and we had such a nice day after that perfect first kiss. Still thinking about him would be natural, the best kind of torture. But my brain would rather go for the real stuff instead.

Actual torture.Medical what-iftorture.

I’m not sure what time it is when I hear the noises outside. All I know is it’s well past midnight and nowhere near dawn.

The front gate rattles with the breeze, but there are other sounds: faint growls, grunts, and snuffles. Real wildlife-slasher-movie stuff. Creatures with claws that go bump in the night.

Be reasonable, Alice.

Stay inside.

This is Tyler’s fault. He put up new screens, so we could leave the windows open, but I’d rather overheat. I hear those noises outside, and I wish our windows wereshut.

I’m not an idiot; I know better than to investigate scary noises in the middle of the night. But I get up anyway—I have to.

There’s an elaborate raccoon trap in the yard that involves a trash can and water. The Sharp twins swear it’s safe, but I have my doubts. Maybe I don’t like that ghost squirrel, but I still don’t want anything bad to happen to it.

Tyler and Lydia are no help. They fell asleep in the middle of their big stakeout, and I can hear them snoring gently in the living room as I sneak outside.It’s just me and the terrifying animal noises.

Using my phone as a flashlight, I edge across the darkened lawn toward shadows in the distance—our raccoon trap. As I get closer, I can make out all the different components. There’s a picnic table with a long plank of wood balanced on top. That plank hangs off the edge of the table like a diving board, and there’s a small dish of Cookie’s dog kibble waiting at the very end. The perfect bait for a raccoon.

The outdoor trash can is the finishing touch. It’s right underneath that makeshift diving board, and it’s filled with a foot of water. Just enough to make it harder for the raccoon to jump back out.

Walk the plank.

Grab some kibble.

Fall in the trash can.

Take a bath while we call for help.

It’s a beautiful plan, a wonder of desperate engineering where everything’s balanced just right so gravity can do the dirty work. Where as soon as that raccoon walks out far enough, the wood plank will tip, and his reign of terror will finally be over. This plan has everything.

And it could go wrong a million different ways.

Normal traps—the humane ones Bill Tipton has set up in the past—haven’t worked so far. I’m not even sure if this one’s goingto work; that ghost squirrel is one smart raccoon. But Cookie has been sad about his missing stuffed bee all day, and a dog mom’s got to do what a dog mom’s got to do.

A soft growl echoes in the distance. It’s either coming from inside the trash can or right behind it. Or maybe I’m imagining that sound.

As I inch toward danger, I’d swear the wind whispers my name. Low and soft, just once. But I’m probably imagining that too.

Before I can reach the trash can, my phone buzzes in my hand, nearly startling me out of my skin. When I glance at the screen to see who’s texting me, my terror only grows.Jason.

This is what’s kept me up all night. Not missing my ex, but wondering why he left. If it was normal relationship problems that did us in or my sister’s eye condition. All those medical what-ifs that I might have to face one day too.

That’s what really scares me. Not raccoons or heights or all these noises around me. If Jason left because he was too worried about the future to stay with me, are other guys going to feel the same way? Are all those medical what-ifs going to follow me to the next guy and the next?

Would it make Charlie back away too?

I don’t want to think about that now. Wondering isn’t going to make me feel better; Jason’s text isn’t going to make me feel better. We broke up. I should ignore his message or delete it or?—

My phone vibrates as he sends another text, and I give in. Curiosity is going to be the death of me.Bring on the pain…

---