Are there two Simon Tarrants? Apparently, they were, or are, or whatever this is, living in the same house.
I am so very lost. It’s not simply my damaged brain messing with the facts, it’s the videos and files in the phone.
I tap the phone to my forehead.Think, think.A throat-catching, high-res memory churns in, rich with color and moans and the softness of her under me, as I smack into her ass and sink into the wet heat of her. This is an old memory, from long ago.
I grab the memory and taste it, swallow it down. Never forget this.
Once, she was mine.
But she died? It might be best that I forgetthatpart. I crush my fist around the hard edges of the phone and stare at the blank screen. I am either hallucinating all of this or I am in a parallel world. This has to be a joke.
If it isn’t then here, in this world, I can keep her, claim her. I exhale, blowing out my cheeks. I don’t have any way to be absolutely sure of this wacky idea. Option one is I’m dreaming all of this and option two is what?
“A world where people who were dead are now alive,” I say the words as firmly as I can, as if by saying it I can make it true.
I choose option two. It’s the fun option. If I am wrong, at least I can enjoy this fantasy.
That weird oscillation in the forest when we walked through it, yesterday, was that when I crossed over to whenever, whatever this world is? It’s not fairyland, that’s for sure.
If I could click my pretty shoes, would I go back to a world where she doesn’t exist? Nope.
As in hell to the fucking no.
My heart is beating harder. This is a second chance. Even if I’m in this monstrous body and she hates me and sees me as something from a horror movie. Which…I am. Even with that, I’m staying.
And I’m thinking all this craziness as if it’s plain natural and obvious when I should be screaming and having a goddamned meltdown.
“This is your fault,” I tell the phone, frowning.
I was thinking that keeping the wallet might be a mistake but the guy I murdered doesn’t…probably, exist here. Or he does and still lives. There’s a tattered photo, some ID cards, but not much else in there. The wallet can stay in my pocket.
I listen to the rustle of leaves and the calls of small wildlife, birds, bugs, while I think. I’m far beyond where any human noise will reach. I could just disappear. If my fantasy is real, I am free, even more than I thought I was last night. Nobody here knows I exist, excluding Hailey and her neighbors.
I could go away and make a life somewhere else.
Except I don’t want to. My stupid brain and body are both calling me to go find Hailey and do whatever I need to do to get back into her good graces.
This…despite now being kind of, almost, sure that where I stand is not the same world I walked in two days ago.
I push the phone into my back pocket and turn to face where Revenant lies.
If I help her find this murderer she seeks, that should do it.
Simple.
IfI knew anything about investigating. Perhaps being good at making people bleed will do.
10
NEIGHBORS AND NON-MURDERS
“How did I not detect your British accent?” Eyebrow angled, I tap my fingernail on the teacup where it rests beside me on her back porch. The gap in the railings for a wheelchair ramp allows me to look out over Molly and Ron’s garden.
“Because I haven’t one? An old friend introduced me to the pleasures of tea. Ron thinks I’m a fool, but he still drinks it instead of coffee, when I tell him to. Don’t you?”
Ron barks a laugh. “I sure do.”
The gentle teasing between them has brought my panic down several notches. My hangover headache has lessened too.
