Page 44 of Follow Her Down
Knock.Knock.Knock.
Three sharp, deliberate raps on the front door.Not James.His knock was a single loudbang.This one is measured.Official.
My shadow daddy explodes into motion.Scratching erupts inside the walls, frantic and furious, like a trapped animal trying to claw its way out.A low, guttural whisper curls against my ear, colder than winter breath:Careful.
I ignore him and cross the living room, and after a quick check out the peep hole, I pull open the door.
Detective Eddie Crowe stands on my porch.Rain glistens in his dark hair, plastering stray strands to his forehead and sticking his long lashes together.His leather jacket is damp, the collar turned up against the chill.His eyes, sharp and blue, sweep over me, then past me into the gloom of the hallway behind me before refocusing on me.He looks like he belongs here, standing in my doorway, his presence solid and unyielding as granite.
“Detective Crowe,” I say, summoning a smile, though it feels brittle on my face.“I got your message that you needed—“
“Penelope Seskeny.”
The name hits me like a bullet to the chest.Penelope “Penny” Seskeny, the girl I was before the world peeled me raw.The name buried under layers of ash and rage.My breath hitches, just for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough.His eyes catch the stumble.
He sees me.
He steps inside without waiting for an invitation, brushing past me.His shoulder bumps mine, a deliberate invasion of space.He prowls the living room, his gaze raking over the stained wallpaper, the dusty fireplace, the closed basement door.He’s casing the place, but not like a cop.Like a predator assessing a rival’s den.
“Tell me why you’re really here, Penelope Seskeny,” he continues, his voice low, scraping over gravel.“Why the name change?Why lie?”
The walls groan.Shadow Daddy’s fury vibrates through the floorboards.A vent rattles overhead, spitting dust motes into the weak moonlight filtering through the grimy windows.
Eddie’s head snaps up, his gaze sharpening.“What the hell was that?”
“Like I said the last time you were here, old house,” I say, waving a dismissive hand.“Settling, probably.Or rodents of unusual size.”
My heart hammers against my ribs, a trapped bird.Charm won’t work on him.Not now.He’s peeled back a layer.Does this mean I’ll have to kill the pretty detective?
“Whylie, Detective?Why does anyone lie?Safety.Reinvention.The thrill of starting over when your old skin doesn’t fit anymore.“ I step closer, tilting my head, letting my voice drop into something softer, more intimate.Dangerous.“Maybe I just liked the sound of Sera better.It sounds more…final.”
His eyes are chips of ice, locking onto mine.He prowls closer, invading my space again.The air crackles between us, thick with tension and Shadow Daddy’s mounting rage, a visceral pressure building in the room.
“Cut the crap, Penelope.You’re here for him, aren’t you?Vincent.”His voice is a low rasp.“But this city eats revenge for breakfast.It’ll chew you up and spit you out before you even get close to him.”He gestures toward the basement door.“You’ve seen firsthand what the dark underbelly here looks like.”
The scratching intensifies, frantic clawing tearing at the inside of the walls near the hallway.Whispers slither through the air, indistinct but laced with venom:Mine.MINE.
Eddie’s gaze darts toward the sound, his jaw tightening.
“And what about Rick?”he asks, his gaze snapping back to me, watching, always watching.“Rick Walker.Your boss.He’s officially missing as of three hours ago.His family’s in a panic.”
Eddie searches my face, hunting for guilt, for fear, for any flicker of acknowledgment.
I feel nothing but a surge of exhilaration, bright and sharp as a knife blade, because heseesme.He sees the cracks, the rot, the carefully constructed facade.He sees the rage simmering beneath the surface, and I want him to see it all.I want to peel the rest of myself open and show him the bloody mess inside.
The fact that he’s here, that he knows exactly who I am, that he isn’t tossing me in jail for conspiracy to commit murder says so much.
The vent above us shrieks, a metallic scream that makes Eddie flinch.Dust rains down.Shadow Daddy is losing control.His jealousy is a physical force now, pressing in, cold and suffocating.
My annoyance flares.I don’t have time for shadow tantrums.
Before Eddie can react, before he can ask about the noise again, I grab his wrist.His skin is warm, the pulse beneath it strong and steady.I yank him forward, pulling him towards the front door.
“Outside,” I snap.“Too much dust in here.”
We step out onto the porch, into the damp, cool embrace of the night.I slam the door shut behind us, muffling Daddy’s furious whispers.Rain slicks the porch boards, the scent of wet earth and decaying leaves heavy in the air.Crickets chirp in the overgrown grass, a relentless chorus beneath the sighing of the wind in the trees and the soft plinking of rain.The darkness feels alive, pressing close.
Eddie pulls his wrist from my grip, but he doesn’t step back.We stand inches apart, the rain misting our faces.
