As I wiped my hands, I walked to the window and tipped my face toward the sun. When I opened my eyes, I noticed someone sitting in the entryway of the apartment building across the street. Her eyes were closed, and she leaned against the wall, a curtain of red hair covering her face. She looked thin and strung out. Was that Tiffany?
I stepped outside, locking the door behind me. I approached her slowly, knowing anyone coming off drugs could be easily startled. “Tiffany?”
At first, she didn’t move. Her body was still, but when she looked up at me, I recognized her very pale face.
“Tiffany.”
The woman’s eyes blinked, and her stare was blank and lost before it slowly focused. “Scarlett.”
I nodded and knelt in front of her. “It’s been a few weeks.”
“Has it? That’s right. You were at Jeremy’s.”
“What’re you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
I smiled. “Why?”
“I wanted to warn you,” she whispered.
“About what?”
“I need to warn you about Tanner.”
“Tanner.” Hearing his name was jarring. And she knew that. “He’s dead, Tiffany.”
“No, he’s not. He’s alive. He’s been texting me. And he’s back for you.”
Her confusion was unnerving. “You’re playing me, Tiffany.”
“I’m not.” She stared directly into my eyes. “I swear.”
The drugs could make someone believe anything. “What do you want?”
“To warn you.”
“Tanner is dead,” I whispered.
She shook her head as tears welled in her gaze. “He’s not.”
I’d dreamed for years that Tanner’s cold hands could reach out from the underworld and grab me. How many times had I woken up screaming and brushing away imaginary fingers? “Tiffany, what have you been taking?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care. I need money. I need to get out of town.”
“I’m not giving you money. Let me help you.” I moved closer and carefully laid my hand on her arm. She tensed. “Let me help you stand.”
“I can stand by myself.” She tried to rise but lost her balance and tipped back. A second attempt brought her to her knees, and then she staggered to her feet. She leaned against the wall. “I need money.”
“Why didn’t you text me back?” I asked.
“I lost track of time.”
She didn’t lose track of time when she wanted money from me. I’d stopped giving her cash, but maybe this was a new ploy to stoke fears and guilt. She must have sensed I’d never absolved myself of my sins against her.
Tiffany stumbled. I took her elbow and steadied her. I owed her something, but what, I wasn’t sure.
She pulled free. “How do I know you’re not trying to hurt me?”