Page 94 of Ricochet

“How long have we been parked?”

“About fifteen minutes.” He turns off his screen and faces me. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Despite having just slept in a car, I was fucking out. I haven’t slept that hard in days.

The light from the front porch floods Stone’s face, and the easy smile there brings me closer to forgetting all about whatever stupid morals I might still be clinging to.

I could try to save my soul at the risk of losing my mind to the shadows. Or I could let Stone save my mind and worry about my soul later. He’s saved me so often, maybe he’d find a way to save that too.

“Where are we?” I ask as I look back to the house.

“My home. Well, my family’s home.”

My gaze snaps back to him. “Why?”

I feel like I’m supposed to be freaking out right now at the thought of meeting Stone’s family. But I’m not. Maybe just a little surprised.

“You’ll see,” is all he says before he opens his door and gets out of the car.

I follow him out and to the front door of the house. He unlocks it with the keys in his hand, and we step inside. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I don’t think it was something so…normal.

A brown leather couch and loveseat set take up most of the living room, surrounding a mahogany coffee table. Even though it’s well past midnight, light from a lamp on one of the end tables casts the room in a dim yellow glow. Family photographs take up space on a couple small bookshelves and hang along the walls. Above the fireplace is a large portrait of a young Stone with his sister and their parents. There’s a small, wooden cabin and a lake in the background.

Stone has told me a little about his family. How his father died when he was twelve. How his mother overworks herself as an ER nurse. How his older sister still lives at home to help out their mom and works out of their father’s old office as an IT analyst.

I guess even though I knew all of that, I hadn’t tried to picture what the home of people who raised a serial killer would look like.

“My mom’s at work right now,” Stone says as he peers around the corner into the kitchen where the light above the stove is on. He turns back to me and asks, “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m okay.”

I’m more curious as to what we’re doing here.

“Alright. Come on.”

He heads down a hallway, and I follow after him. There are more framed photos lining these walls too. Some are of his parents. Some are of him and his sister. There are pictures of graduations, birthday parties, and vacations. They look like such a happy family.

Something in my chest aches. Something for me and something for Stone too.

We come to a set of double doors, and Stone knocks. Two seconds later, there’s a mechanical whirring and then a click, like an electric lock.

When he opens the door, the first thing that strikes me is the contrast between this room and what I’ve seen of the rest of the house.

Here’sthe lack of normal.

There are at least half a dozen screens of various sizes taking up the far wall. A corner desk is situated on the right side of the room with another desk pushed up against it. The only light comes from the glow of the monitors and rainbow LEDs beneath the desks and flashing from several keyboards.

It’s like some kind of evil lair.

I turn to Stone and arch a brow. “IT analyst?”

“Among other things.”

The feminine voice comes from further inside the room. When what appears to be an expensive gaming chair swivels around, I spot Stone’s sister perched on it with her legs crossed.

I think I’d recognize her even if we weren’t inside this room in this house. They look so much alike. Same ivory skin and beautiful smile. Same piercing eyes, though hers appear to be a brighter shade of green. Most of her hair is black like Stone’s, but the front sections around her face are a hot pink.

She beams at her brother and hops out of her chair before crossing the room and throwing herself at him.

---