Page 51 of Until Hanna

Without a word, he walks over to talk to the doctor who called the time of death, and then a minute later, he ushers me outside to his car.

When we arrive at the house, he follows me up to the front door, and I let us inside. It’s quiet… so quiet you could hear a pin drop if you were listening for it.

“Does her nephew live here?”

“He’s staying on the third floor.” I avoid looking at the blood still staining the floor at the bottom of the steps as I walk to the staircase. I don’t want to go up, but I still lead the way. The stairway is dark. Not even the single light that used to be here works any longer, since Josh and his friends have been redoing the electrical wiring, something that seems to be taking forever.

Turning on his flashlight, the policeman shines it on the steps, and I notice some blood smeared on the wall. The sight makes me sick to my stomach. He must notice it too, because for a brief moment, his light zeroes in on it.

“This was her apartment.” I point at her door as we make it to the landing, then continue up the next flight of stairs. At the third floor, I knock, and a moment later, the door is opened by a somber-looking Josh.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “Can we come in?”

“Yeah.” He looks at the officer briefly and opens the door all the way. We step inside, and his friends who are always with him are nowhere in sight as I glance around. But the apartment that was once a short-term rental and decorated much like mine is now a mess. There are pizza boxes and beer cans on every surface and garbage overflowing the trash can in the kitchen. If Mrs. Lewis had seen how they were treating her home, she would have lost her mind.

Taking a seat on the edge of the couch next to Josh, I listen to the policeman confirm his aunt passed away. Josh doesn’t make a noise or even cry; he just stares off into the distance like a zombie.

“Do you want me to help you call anyone?” I ask him when the officer leaves after getting our information and saying he will be back tomorrow to fill out a proper report.

He looks over at me and blinks like he didn’t even remember I was here. “I called my mum and dad. They’re on their way with Nanny’s sister.”

“Is there anyone else you want to call? Maybe your friends or someone to come sit with you until they get here?”

“Tim and Nathan should be back soon.”

“All right.” I rub his back when he leans forward, burying his face in his hands.

“I should have finished the lighting yesterday like I told her I would. She probably couldn’t see.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” he says quietly, and I swallow over my own guilt. “She just always seemed so capable.”

“She did.” She was, even at her age, and could run circles around some of the people my age without even trying. Which is why I never saw her as old, even knowing she was in her eighties. She still took daily walks, worked in her garden, and took trips every few months to visit her friends around Europe. I never once saw her even stumble.

When the sound of footsteps starts up the stairs through the door to the apartment that is still open, I brace as I watch his friends walk inside.

“What’s happened? Why is their blood on the stairs?” Tim asks, his eyes finding mine.

“Mrs. Lewis fell.”

“Is she all right?” Nathan asks, and I shake my head.

“She passed away.”

“Bloody hell,” he whispers, looking down at his friend, who hasn’t taken his face out of his hands.

“There are three blokes downstairs, and one of them is losing his bullocks looking for you,” Tim says, and I squeeze my eyes closed.

Crap. How much time passed since I got home?

“Are you going to be okay?” I ask Josh, who nods but doesn’t look at me. “If you need anything, I’m downstairs.”

“We’ve got him,” Tim assures, and with a nod, I get up and leave the apartment. Taking out my cell phone, I ignore the million calls I missed from Walker since it was on silent, and I use the flashlight to make my way down the stairs. Before I even reach the bottom step, Walker’s eyes find mine, and relief instantly fills his features.

“Sorry,” I whisper.

“What the fuck happened?” he asks, taking the phone from his ear, his gaze roaming over every inch of me as Otto and Ham glance down at the steps below me, where there’s still a pool of blood.

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