“Fuck,” I yell, slamming my hand against the doorframe. I look at Walt, open my mouth to apologize but stop when I see the look on his face. For one, he doesn’t look offended. For two, he looks proud.
“She hasn’t left yet.”
“How do you know that?”
“She promised me she’d say bye.”
I stare at him. I cannot tolerate his bullshit right now.
He chuckles. “I take it you didn’t get such a promise.”
“Don’t rub it in.”
He waves his hand. “Don’t take it personally. You’re the one she can’t stand to say goodbye to.”
This makes me happy. Actually, it makes me really fucking ecstatic.
“Have you tried her house?” He steps out and I move aside for him. He walks farther out onto his porch and peers down the street.
My hand skims over my hair. “It’s dark inside.”
“So?”
“She likes light.”
Walt doesn’t speak. He juts out his chin and squints, scrutinizing the dark. “Damned old eyes.” He bats the air in frustration.
I join him where he stands a few feet away, searching the dark alongside him. “What are you looking for?”
He points, and I gaze out in the direction of his finger. As far as I can tell, there is nothing to see.
“What’s the make of that car over there?”
I squint too. I can’t tell from here. It’s across the street and one house down from Brynn’s. Quickly, I walk down the steps and out to the sidewalk. “Mercedes.” I tell him, raising my voice as I turn back.
The old man’s eyes widen.
“What?” I ask.
“Nobody in this neighborhood drives a Mercedes.”
“So?”
“It’s out of place.”
My eyes strain with the effort it takes me not to roll them. “Walt,” I say calmly, like I’m talking to a child. “What aren’t you saying?”
Walt keeps his eyes in the direction of the car, even though he can’t see much of it. “I don’t like it. I keep tabs on this neighborhood and I can promise you”—he jabs a finger in the direction of the car—“that car has never been on this street.”
My heart begins to race, but I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s Walt’s serious tone, or his ominous implication. Maybe it’s my knowledge of Brynn’s tenuous situation.
“What do you think is happening?” I ask.
He ignores me and hurries inside as quickly as he can.
28
Walt
