“Riley.” I shook his hand only for a second, but long enough to notice a tremble. Was that because of me?
“I didn’t realise you were a cop.”
He tilted his head. “Would you have spoken to me any differently if you had known?”
“No.” Honesty was the best policy.
But I’d probably fantasise about a uniformed version of him in that scene in the cafe now. I looked up at the towering wooden gate, whose padlock lay broken on the ground. Dax turned to follow my gaze, and the side of his muscled arm brushed against my shoulder. A pleasant tingle trailed behind it.Ugh.
“I prefer the people I’m forced to spend time with not to be arrogant as fuck,” I said.
“That’s funny. I was about to say the same thing, but here we are. Might as well make the best of it.” He pushed off the car with the sole of his boot.
How much did I care about the vandalism, anyway? Because being around this guy gave me about as much joy as a final notice letter.
Dax walked ahead, making notes on his phone as he surveyed the outside of the property. I would have opened the door while I waited, but someone had already done me the favour. Thanks, I guess.
I sat on the wooden bench on the patio and kicked at a plastic yellow-and-black trike left behind. My heart raced the same way it had when I was last here with June, and I leaned my head against the red brick. Unwelcome memories swirled in my brain and stomach, threatening to dislodge this morning’s smoothie.
Not all the memories were bad.
Every Friday night on this patio had been fish and chip night. If you were allowed to attend it. I remember the sunroom at the front of the house that they'd converted into a toy room and the excitement when it was my turn to play with something. I remember the sugar shakers on the breakfast table, and the novelty of using as much as you liked. If breakfast was on the cards for you that day, that is.
The negative stuff permeated like an illness, tainting everything. Including the way my body felt just being near the building.
I let out a slow breath and opened my eyes, jumping when I realised Dax was now beside me. He sat at the other end of the bench, legs stretched out, one ankle crossed over the other. The mid-morning sun lit the edge of his jaw, and my cheeks warmed. I was embarrassed that I’d been oblivious to his quiet presence while I was busy wading through trauma soup.
I cleared my throat, and his face turned towards me, his full lips curving as his dark eyes studied my face.
Okay, he was attractive. But I was only happy to admit that because I knew it was down to pure insanity. It was my explanation for being here in the first place, and everything else I’d done since.
“Shall we?” I asked, sliding my sweaty hands down my jeans as I stood.
Dax gestured with a hand. It was another one of those times that I wished some guy wasn’t trying to be chivalrous and would just go before me.
The house still smelled stale, surprisingly so given that the front door had been broken open since the previous night. What caught my attention was the red line sprayed from the base of the stairs upward like a giant arrow. I stood looking at it as Dax cleared the bottom floor of the house. Spray paint had dripped down the handrail like blood. It gave the space a suitably ominous feel.
“All clear on the ground floor,” Dax called from somewhere in the distance.
Then I heard the screaming.
It began the way it always did in my dreams. Building. Shrieking.
But it didn’t usually happen outside of my sleep.
My heart thudded hard as I looked around, trying to locate the sound. Ice seemed to rise from the floor, locking my feet in place. No. Not now. I willed the vault to stay shut, but it roared open like a bull out of a gate.
Please, not here.
The screaming was visceral, tearing through my body, and I crouched down on the floor with my hands over my ears.
The small room with its ammonia smell.
The house mother that smiled and reminded me to be good as she pushed me into it, closing the door.
The man in the white coat, and the table with the machine next to it.
The camera that sat on a tripod by the wall.
