Page 30 of His to Haunt

“No,” answers Ritter quickly. “No cops!”

Kimmie scrunches her face. “We might not have a choice.”

He steps closer, raising his finger at her. “Not fucking calling the cops. Got it?”

“Hey, back off. What’s your problem?” she says.

“Me and pigs don’t get along,” he shrugs.

“But you work in finance,” I say, confused, my words falling flat.

I’m reminded of how jumpy he and Silas acted at the club initially, looking around as if there was someone they didn’t want to run into. Shady seeming. But then we started talking to them, and Kimmie and Silsa hit it off, etcetera.

“I’ll get someone to bring a crowbar,” says Ritter, pulling out his phone.

My eyeballs widen, alerted. No way do I want his peeps showing up here with a crowbar.

I lift my gaze to a flicker of light. Focusing until I determine that it’s coming from inside Zand’s house. I get a butterfly-inducing idea.

I don’t want to involve him. But something must be done. It’s too late at night to call Stacy, and Zand knows this house far better than me and probably knows a way into the basement or how to fix the elevator door.

But by Ritter’s reaction earlier when we mentioned Zand’s name, I don’t want to tell Ritter my plan. He’s skittish enough, as is.

“I know where there is a crowbar,” I lie to him. “Meet me at the elevator. Maybe Silas came up and is waiting on the other side of the door.”

“You want me to come with?” asks Kimmie.

I want to say yes. I don’t want to walk through the dark hedges on my own. But I need Kimmie to keep track of Ritter for me. I don’t think he will try anything with her. He’s too frustrated over finding his friend.

“I’ll be right there,” I assure her, feigning confidence.

I use my phone to light the way through the hedge maze in the eerie darkness, too focused on finding a solution to acknowledge the fear in the back of my mind. That my sister’skiller is still out there. Was here on this property. Maybe he knows her. Perhaps he knows a way in. Or, what if… No, I can’t think that.

But the stubborn idea won’t go away. What if her cousin hurt her? Don’t think it, Leena.

Letting myself jump to conclusions and believing such a thing would make living here impossible. My whole future depends on this internship. Then again, if finding justice for my sister conflicts with my career goals, I won’t be able to live with myself if I turn a blind eye. That’s all I’ve ever done until now.

Hopefully, there is nothing to find.

But her dying wish. She wants me to learn about her life and some ugly truths that I dread knowing, which may or may not connect to who hurt her. Bloodied her.

Fear turns to anger as I speed walk the maze to Zand’s. I’m bordering rage when I realize that I must calm down and keep my emotions under wraps. If I can’t do that, what kind of psychologist can I ever hope to be?

The lights are on inside the carriage house, and I can see his hand working the easel. I peek through the window to see if he has company, but the gold velvet sofa is empty. Only now do I realize how petite the sofa is, doll-house-like, bench-sized as if meant for the end of a bed or in a foyer. No wonder his models look Rubanesque and goddess-like on this tiny sofa.

I knock on the door, and it instantly opens, surprising me with the speed at which he must have come. No moment of pause, no shuffling sound from the other side. An instantaneous reaction. Inhuman seeming.

He stands in the doorway, trailing me up and down before pausing on my eyes with a quizzical gaze. He doesn’t seem angry as expected.

“Sorry to interrupt your work, Zand.”

“I need a model,” he says bluntly, eyes scrolling the contour of my waist and hips intrusively, making me feel already naked.

“I hope you find one. Look, I…need your help. Someone is trapped in the basement. I don’t have a key and—“

“Who?”

“Huh? Oh, um…a friend.”

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