Page 21 of Pay the Price

I’d been lazy, and even worse, naive.

“Not to rush you,” Locke said, “but I have a private session in fifteen minutes.”

“Right. Sorry.” I’d totally zoned out. “I might be interested.”

“Cool.” He glanced at the digital clock mounted on the wall. “Looks like Molly’s a no-show anyway. I’ll give you a tour.”

I didn’t know what I was doing, didn’t know what was happening, but there was one thing I did know: danger was around every corner, in my own house, my own family.

And I was tired of being a lamb.

Chapter 14

Otis

Iparked on one of the side streets on Cassie’s block. Unless you were in Southside, Blackwell Falls was pretty dead after midnight during the week, but the Corvette was easy to spot and easy to remember and I wasn’t looking to draw attention to myself.

The sidewalks were empty as I made my way to the alley behind Cassie’s building. It was narrow but surprisingly clean, probably because it was on the north side of town.

Everything was cleaner here.

Plus, the locals knew Bram owned this entire block, and no one was about to fuck with Bram, especially with Cassie living and working there.

It didn’t bother me, not because I was looking to fuck with Bram’s shit but because I didn’t plan on getting caught.

I passed the dumpster at the back of the coffee shop and reached for the fire escape that led to Cassie’s apartment. It was just a few feet above the ground, already extended thanks to my recon earlier in the day.

Cassie had been at the shop and Daisy had been working at Cantwell when I’d broken in to get the lay of the land. I did it for myself — I didn’t want to stumble around in the dark when I came back later — but I did it for Cassie and Daisy too.

I didn’t want to scare the shit out of them. I just wanted to see Daisy, see for myself that she was all right. And yeah, okay, I also just wanted toseeher. She’d been gone for two weeks, not including the ten days she’d been held prisoner by her dad, and I was pretty sure the heavy feeling in my chest was there because I missed her.

I didn’t have any experience missing people. I loved my parents and my sisters, but they’d never missed a visit while I’d been in prison, and the only other people I cared about — Wolf and Jace — had been inside with me.

But nothing was the same without Daisy. I saw her everywhere I looked in the old house: in the wallpaper she loved but insisted on replacing because it was torn and the old furniture that she polished once a week before returning the sheets that protected them and the blender that had sat silent since she left because who besides Daisy wanted a smoothie when you could have a donut for breakfast?

So, yeah. I just wanted to look at her, even if it was while she was sleeping, because seeing her across the street from inside my car just wasn’t the same as seeing her up close.

I moved silently up the fire escape and lifted the half-open window to Cassie’s living room. I didn’t blame her for leaving the windows open — it was summer and she was on the second floor — but I still didn’t like it. I’d already made a mental note to talk to Bram about security at Cassie’s apartment.

But not until after I was done taking advantage of the lack of it.

With the window all the way open, removing the screen and slipping inside the apartment was easy. It was all mechanicsreally: make sure my head cleared the bottom of the window frame, check to make sure I wasn’t going to knock anything down on the other side, lift my feet all the way through the open window so it didn’t catch on the sill.

It just took patience, like everything else. I’d learned a lot about patience in my life. If I didn’t understand the expression on someone’s face, waiting long enough for them to say something else or to repeat themselves using different words would usually clear things up. If I felt like I was missing something in a conversation, waiting it out would usually reveal an answer. It wasn’t that different from fixing a car or a computer or a toaster. I could almost always figure something out if I took my time with the problem.

All of which was to say, I took my time getting in the house: cleared the bottom of the window frame, moved the little plant rack on the other side (careful not to drag it), lifted my feet through the open window without catching on anything.

Then I was inside, Cassie’s living room silent around me.

It was small but it had everything you needed in a living room — a sofa, TV, tables where you could put down a drink. Across the hardwood floor, the refrigerator hummed from the kitchen.

Earlier in the day I’d been relieved to find that Cassie’s hardwood floors were in good shape. No squeaks, which I would have expected with an old building. Then again, Bram probably kept the place in good shape because Cassie was his only sibling and their parents had died in a car accident and everyone knew Bram would do anything for Cassie.

I made my way toward the hall leading to the bedrooms, passed Cassie’s room and a small bathroom, then turned the knob on the door that led to the bedroom where Daisy was staying. Figuring that part out had been easy: Cassie’s room was filled with the things you collected when you stayed for a whilein one place while the guest bedroom had been mostly empty of personal artifacts.

Plus Daisy’s clothes had been in the dresser drawer when I’d done my recon, her light purple hoodie hanging over the chair that sat next to the wall. I’d lifted it to my face, had rubbed the soft fabric against my cheek, inhaled Daisy’s lingering scent.

I stepped silently and quickly into the room. You had to move carefully when you broke into a place, but not haltingly. Doors that wouldn’t squeak when opened fast might squeak when opened slow, and if a floorboard was going to groan, going slow would only draw out the sound.

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