Page 63 of Dead Love
But was that another lie he was feeding me?
I honestly didn’t know where he was during the day, or the nights when he left me in the basement.
Who was Vincent, really?
“Miss Kora? Are you there?” Andrew asked. “Is Vincent the Echo Killer?”
I could say the one truth that I knew.
“I don’t know who burned the house,” I whispered, “but Vincent was there. He saved me from the fire. But he didn’t abduct me, Andrew. You’ve got to believe me on this.” My head throbbed, and I swear the seconds ticked by slower, the air leaking out of my lungs. “Please.”
Silence lingered between us, the chirps of the police department’s bullpen trickling through the line. The microwave beeped in the break room. I was out of time.
“Give me something I want to hear,” he said, his voice cold.
My fingers raced, tapping against the phone. “There are extra graves. Like he knows they’re coming.” I looked around frantically, trying to think. “And I found a green pill in his studio. Half a pill.”
“A green pill, huh?”
“Yes!”
“Can you get to the funeral home tomorrow, during the day? I can make a surprise visit with your daddy. But we need you to be there. Use the element of surprise. All of that.”
I swallowed. “I’ll do my best.”
“Good.” His chair squeaked. “I promise, I’ll help you, Miss Kora. We will ensure that Erickson pays for what he’s done.”
I wanted to remind him that the only thing Vincent had done was rescue me from a burning house, but footsteps thudded through the hall, so I hung up.
Those words should have comforted me, but my skin was itchy, my throat tight. Vincent appeared in the doorframe and I swallowed. I pulled at the collar of my shirt.
He lifted the microwave dinner on the plate. My stomach churned. “On second thought,” I said quietly, “Could I save it for later? I’m not feeling great.”
“Let’s get you to bed,” he said.
He put a protective arm around me, shielding me across the threshold and back to his house. Like he wanted to help me. To make sure I wasn’t sick.
What had I done?
CHAPTER22
Kora
I madeup an excuse to be by myself; I was feeling fine, but I needed sleep. A few hours later, Vincent burst through the door. His footsteps sounded different from usual, like he could barely pick up his feet. The metal stairs rattled with his gait.
Before I could open my mouth, he said, “If anyone asked you about us, would you tell them the truth?”
I titled my head. “I always tell the truth.”
“So what happened that first night?” he asked, then grabbed my shoulders, staring into my eyes. “With the fire. Fromyoureyes.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he kept going: “I saved you from that fire, Kora. If I hadn’t taken you from that room, you would have died.”
I studied Vincent’s face, the bleary eyes, the hard creases around his mouth, the tension in his brow. He let go of me, then rubbed the back of his neck.
But I deserved to know the truth.
“Did you start the fire that burned down my house, Vincent?” I asked. His eyes met mine, and the flames burned inside of him. I raised my voice: “Did you?”
“It was neveryourhouse.”
