“Hey.” Carter’s gaze sharpened. “I know that old beater.” She set her slice back in the box. “Josie, maybe you ought to head in.”
There was only one person who would cause that phrase to pop out of her mouth.
“Is that Harrow?” Josie cracked her knuckles. “What does he want?”
“Looks like we’re about to find out.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Let’s see what this is about.”
Sure enough, the truck pulled into the lot, and Harrow stepped out with his hands lifted in the air like he was being held at gunpoint.
“I apologize for arriving unannounced.” He jerked his chin toward the truck. “Matty’s in there.”
“Matty?” Josie marched toward him. “What are you doing with him?”
“Jo.” Carter caught her around the stomach and tugged her back. “Let him talk.”
Jo? Carter had given her a nickname? That sounded serious.
But it wasn’t as important as getting to the bottom of this.
“Captain Tilly called me about thirty minutes ago. An officer had pulled over someone in a Chrysler Pacifica who was askingfor me. She asked if I knew Matty, I said yes, and she explained he had been pulled over for drunk driving.”
“Matty would never do that in a million years.”
“I explained to her that he was diabetic, and his blood sugar was low.” He slanted his face away from me, as if afraid to see how I was taking the news. “The symptoms of hypoglycemia and drunkenness are similar.” He shrugged. “Since I vouched for him, she released him into my custody without filing charges.”
“Thanks.” I rushed over to check on him. “I appreciate you bringing him home.”
I wrenched open the door to find Matty lolling on the seat, his eyes open but unseeing.
“We need Aretha.” I glanced over my shoulder at Josie. “Let’s get him up to his bed.”
Harrow moved in to help me carry him, but Josie broke free of Carter and bumped him aside. Raising his hands again, he backed away and allowed Josie and me to lift Matty out. I hooked my hands under his arms, and she hitched a leg to either side of her hips. He sagged between us, but we were old pros at this.
“I’ll get the door.” Kierce jogged ahead of us. “Do you need anything else?”
“Just Aretha,” I panted out. “Carter?—”
But Carter was already behind the wheel of her truck, and she spun out to fetch the med witch as we climbed to his apartment.
“She forgot to close the tailgate.” Josie sounded numb. “All that pizza gone to waste.”
She didn’t care about the pizza. She cared about Matty. But if she focused on him, his limp and still form, she would allow our greatest fear to seize her. That he was gone. That he had slipped away from us. That the vague and distanttomorrowwe kept putting off thinking about was actuallytoday, and we hadmissed it. His final moments, and we had been elsewhere when we should have been with him.
On the landing, we hustled Matty inside and arranged him on the bed.
Drawing up my courage, I faced the gnawing dread within me and placed my palm on his forehead.
Cold energy swirled through his body, reaching out to meet my warmth.
For a split second, I almost felt relief, but then comprehension crashed down around me.
His soul was…gone.
Gone.
But someone—or something—was slithering around inside him.
“Matty...” I stared at our brother’s twitching body. “He’s…” I swallowed hard. “He’s not in there.”