Page 37 of Half the Summer's Night
I don’t recognize him.
“Who is he?” my killer asks, eyes fixed firmly on my face.
I shake my head. “I don’t—I’ve never seen him before.”
Still, I work through the possibilities in my head. He murdered Olivia Pearce and then came for me. It has to be someone connected to Blake Fletcher, doesn’t it? But I’ve never seen this man before. And he’s too old to have been one of Blake’s friends at school. A relative, maybe?
“Hmm,” my killer says. Then he balls up the stocking and shoves it in the man’s mouth.
“What are you going to do to him?” I whisper.
My killer stands up. “Not what he did to poor Olivia Pearce,” he says.
My heart thumps. So he does know about her death. Suddenly, I’m wondering about another killer’s identity. He obviously lives here. The police didn’t release many details about the case, but the Rosado gossips have been hard at work, no doubt.
“But I won’t tell you anything else.” He tilts his head, and his voice changes. I think he’s smiling. “But you’ll find out soon enough. Think of it as a test, Abilene?—“
It’s the first time I’ve heard him say my name, and it sends lightning bolts through my core.
“If you keep our secret safe, I’ll know I can trust you.” He moves closer, stepping over the body without looking at it. I holdmy breath as he leans into me, his eyes dark behind his mask as he reaches up and cups my face with his gloved hand.
I shiver a little at the touch.
“I’ll know you really are my little detective,” he purrs. “Good night, Abi. And go upstairs. Tell your friends you’re all right.”
How the fuck did he know about that?Another spike of terror in my belly. But something else, too. A sense of dark flattery.
“Don’t come down until morning.” He rubs his thumb against my jawline. I hate that I like the way it feels, that I don’t want him to stop. “You’ll see. In the daylight, everything will be all right.”
14
ABI
My phone is waiting for me at the top of the stairs, and when I swipe it open,911is still eblazoned on the call screen. I stare at it, my breath tight, as sounds drift up from downstairs. Thumps. Rustles. Heavy footsteps.
My killer, making the nightmare go away.
I erase the numbers and open up the string of messages from my group chat with Chloe and Penelope.
Penelope
U there?
Chloe
Call us. Everything okay?
Should we call the police?
Penelope
Don’t be fucking stupid. I’m not sending the cops to her house. Abi, call us back as soon as you get this.
There are a couple of missed calls from both of them. I open up the group chat, trying to ignore my killer thumping around downstairs.
Hey, I’m really sorry about that. It was someone from the sheriff’s department checking in on me. They had a report of a lurker nearby, so they wanted to check in. Everything’s fine.
I stare at the message. I hate lying to them. But I know I can’t tell them the truth.
