“He’s dead,” Sander said. His voice trembled. “Filip is dead.”
“I know.”
“And you killed him. Do you understand what that means? Don’t you even get the difference? Between life and death?”
A spark inside Sander, something old and grim for which he had no words. Maybe that was just as well. Life and death seemed to be nothing but words to Killian. It was like they had no counterpart in the real world, in his life, in his heart.
Sander’s phone rang from his pocket. Everyone reacted as though an alarm had sounded.
“Don’t answer it.”
Killian made it sound like a threat.
Sander stood with his phone in hand, gazing into those empty, pale eyes. Memories flashed through him. The voice was familiar, older but still Killian’s, that burly figure, that face. Sander recognized everything that had been burned into his cells during a long-ago childhood, yet nothing was familiar at all.
“Is it the police?”
The question came from Felicia.
“It’s Olivia. The kids. They’re wondering where I am. I have to answer.”
“Don’t answer it,” Killian repeated.
“Killian,” Felicia said softly. “It’s best if he takes it.”
Something snapped in Killian’s eyes. He thrust his hand into his pocket, and out it came again.
“I’m not going to do anything. Just don’t say anything about me. All I want is to get out of here.”
In Killian’s hand was the knife, simple and ordinary, like a mechanic gesturing with his screwdriver. What had Sander expected, that more than twenty years could have passed unnoticed, without leaving impressions or scars? He knew better. The dead don’t return for no reason, and when they do come back, they’re no longer as they were in life.
The only problem was, Killian wasn’t dead. Sander studied his friend’s body, struck by how physical it was, flesh and blood and bone, organs working doggedly inside. He was alive, but Sander no longer knew him, and maybe he never had. A ratatat sounded, out of rhythm with the stubborn ringtone.
Raindrops the size of coins struck the window. Three or four, then more, and soon there were too many to count.
The sky was falling.
102
“Yes. No, everything’s fine.”
Sander had set the phone on the table. Olivia’s voice came from the speaker, blaring right into the kitchen in front of Felicia and Killian, and she had no idea.
“Are you sure?” she said. “You were supposed to come back yesterday, and now you’re not coming tonight either. Is everything really okay? Is there anything I should know?”
“I’m okay,” Sander said. “It’s just this thing with Filip. I promise, that’s all. I have to talk to the police again.”
“What about?”
Killian stared at him.
“We can talk about it when I get there tomorrow. Because I will be there tomorrow, I promise.”
“Okay.” She sounded sad. “The kids are asleep. Do you want to talk for a while? I miss you.”
He couldn’t keep his voice from shaking. “I think I’ll try to get hold of the police now. I’ll be there tomorrow. I miss you too. I miss all of you.”
“Okay. Good night.”
