Page 32 of Look My Way
Thirty minutes later, I’m passing a lake and taking a winding road surrounded by trees to get to where Daniel is currently parking. It’s a house. There aren’t any neighbors nearby and it looks like his car is the only one in the driveway.
Where are we? Some secret hideaway? A home belonging to his side piece?
I stay on the road, putting my car in park and leaning back in my seat. A figure moves in front of one of the partly open windows, and when I lift my binoculars to my eyes, Daniel’s on the phone with his face hardening.
Pacing back and forth, he slams his hand on the back of the couch. Is he mad that he got stood up? It’s nice to see him gettinga taste of his own medicine if that’s what’s happening. It’s hard to believe anyone would want to be with anyone else when they have full access to Liam.
What’s he doing right now anyway? Looking for me out the window? Did he notice his recipe box had been moved again? Has he seen the added recipe I’ve slipped inside yet?
I lick my lips, still tasting him from when I licked his release from the table’s glass on my way inside his house. Daniel’s snores hid my steps and fast breathing as I stood in the bedroom doorway watching Liam toss around under the covers in nothing but a little black jock strap. The blanket kept falling to his thighs and his ass lifted with each shift of his body.
Fuck, I didn’t want to stay and risk getting caught, but I couldn’t leave either. He was acting out scenes from his book. From pages he knew I’d already read. He wanted me there. He needed me there, and he needs me where I’m at too, to expose Daniel for the piece of shit human being he is.
I duck down in my seat when another car pulls up behind his. A man steps out of the small black Corolla, looking around as he rushes inside the house. He approaches Daniel from behind and they both raise their hands, faces tensing. They’re arguing. Is this some lovers quarrel?
Daniel shoves at his chest, showing him something on the phone, and the other man lowers his head to the screen. Panic is prominent in his expression from here, and I zoom in closer when they walk away from the window. They both pass through a door in the kitchen, Daniel looking behind them before quickly shutting it.
The clock on my dash reminds me of how much time I have before I need to head back to town. Liam doesn’t need another person letting him down today. Especially not me. How can I be everything he needs if I’m off to a bad start?
I sit up straighter in my seat when Daniel and his friend appear from around the house. What the fuck? They must have gone outside through a back way, and I’m guessing the door they went through in the kitchen had led them to a basement. Are they hiding something down there? This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve come across a crooked cop, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Daniel was one himself.
He and the other man argue some more before getting into one of the cars together. I’m tempted to follow them, but I don’t have much time to spare, and I’m curious to know what it is they’re doing here if it’s not having an affair.
Their clothes don’t suggest they’ve been messing around. No puffy or bruised lips. No tousled hair or adjusting of their pants. What’s in the basement? Drugs? Money from a bank robbery? Daniel doesn’t strike me as a killer. I should know what another one would look like, shouldn’t I?
I recognize an abuser and narcissist when I see one, but I’m not sure I’d be able to pick someone like myself out from a line up. Is he like me, though? Other serial killers usually aren’t, and a very particular one is very high on my radar and doesn’t deserve to breathe any more of the same air as me or anyone else.
When the black car drives away, I wait until it’s fully out of sight to step outside. I approach the house, checking around me, and explore the front porch before circling around to the back. Wooden doors are built into the ground in a hideaway. It’s a basement. I’d recognize an entryway to one anywhere. My breathing shallows as I remember when my foster father used to drag me down the narrow steps and lock me in the dark until I wore myself out from screaming.
I dig at my jeans with my nails, likely creating half-crescent moon shapes in my skin beneath the thick fabric.
My stomach coils when the tip of my foot hits a metal chain. Dropping to my knees, I tug at it, then rush back to my car for tools. I need to be smart about this and not leave evidence I was here. No telling what Daniel is capable of. I’m not worried what he’ll do to me, but I don’t need him punishing the wrong person for my actions.
I pause halfway to the back yard, and back up to check the window on the side of the house. Locked. The one by the door doesn’t budge but the small one in the kitchen pulls up after a hard shove. Grinning, I grip my feet onto the brick, pulling myself high enough to crawl through the small opening. I’m hanging above the sink, scanning the kitchen as I crawl all the way through. Lowering myself onto the floor, I make my way to the door I saw them coming out of.
It’s locked, like the one outside. No one has the basement this secure if they aren’t hiding what they’re afraid the wrong person could find. Setting my tool bag on the ground, I break apart the pen in my front pocket and pick at the lock. To my surprise, my old trick works, and at the sound of the lock clicking, I open the door.
My feet halt on the first step as a strong stench hits my nose. A metallic smell, mildew and room deodorizer spray. My hand lands on one of the walls, wooden boards creeping beneath my heavy feet as I walk down. I swallow the lump forming in my throat as my skin comes in contact with what feels like claw marks in the plaster.
Is this some integration room? What the fuck is going on here and why is there a bed leaning against the back wall? A white comforter and decorative pillows give it a homey touch. A small dresser sits on the right side with a vase holding fake white flowers. There’s no other furniture or decorations and my shoes catch on the rusted floorboards. Is someone living here? Why is it locked from the outside if so?
Exploring the room some more doesn’t get me any new answers. The place is clean and dust free. Someone has done their best to keep it tidy, and the bleach smell lingering on the sheets cuts into my nose. The smell is too familiar. I’ve used it to clean up plenty of messes before. What’s weird about Daniel using it how most people do? To get stains out of white surfaces.
Then my mind goes to other places, and I start to wonder what kind of evidence he’s trying to cover up?
There isn’t much else to go on. It appears to be a normal room. It also feels so staged and sterile. Not wanting to waste too much time looking for what I won’t find today, I remove the badge from my pocket and leave it on the center of the bed.
I didn’t want him to find it so soon, but I don’t think his first thought will be to go home or join Liam at the farmer’s market when he discovers it here.
I don’t want him to know I was here yet. I want him to question himself over and over, racking his brain for why his badge is here. Did he leave it or is someone onto what he’s doing? He’ll get to experience that nervous twitch in his eyes Liam does when he gets too close or says certain words.
Too bad I won’t be able to see it.
Grinning, I tread back up the stairs. The house only has two rooms. Both are set up exactly the same with a bed, matching curtains, and a vase on a nightstand with flake flowers. No evidence of anyone actually living here. Only minimal food in the fridge, and one change of clothes in the closet. No TV or pictures on the walls.
Does he rent this place out? Host parties here?
I don’t have time to find out today, not when I have a date with a pretty redhead who I’m dying to see blush when I tell him where I’m up to in his book. Daniel and whatever he’s up to can wait. I consider leaving the watch behind but then I decideagainst it, closing my middle console before I can reach in to grab it.
