He hums in response to my words, and his silence continues as I walk.“Then what are you doing?”
Stopping, I gaze up at the darkening sky. It’s almost six, and the sun is low enough that the buildings of Seattle block out quite a bit of the light from the horizon. “I don’t know,” I admit finally. “But it’s not that. It’s…” I trail off.Fuck.“It might be that.”
“Sierra…”His sigh makes my skin prickle. I don’t like it when he sounds like that, and I don’t want his concern. I’ve never needed it before. Not exactly like this, anyway.
Not foryears.
“Tell me about it.”
“They found Alan’s body.” I lower my voice as I look into windows, judging different setups and how full diners are in the area. “It was just on the news. Esme is spiraling. And—” I take a breath and sigh. “This guy knows about back then. He says.” I swallow my words. “No, fuck him. He’s not the problem. They found his body, and Esme is spiraling. I don’t know how to deal with normal people like that. Winnie spirals, right? Could you?—”
“She doesn’t spiral like a normal person. And don’t compare your delicate roommate to my fiancee.”I roll my eyes at his words, biting my tongue to cut off my reply. They’ve only been dating since last Halloween, and the fact they’re engaged six months in is something I can’t imagine.
Why?
She’s not a killer like him, from what he’s said. Cass was always the one to charm the staff of the hospital, and he was the one allowed more privileges. He met her on the day of his release, while I apparently spent three months existing in the same facility as her.
But try as I might, I cannot remember Winnifred Campbell.
“So what do I do?” I ask finally, when I realize I haven’t spoken and I’m staring into the eyes of a kid in a bakery like I want to steal his soul. I grimace at him and pull away, not wanting to get the authorities called on me for being an absolute creep. “How do I help her?”
“Do the cops suspect murder? Does anyone suspect you guys?”
“I’m trying to pin it on some guy,” I admit. “I’m sure you’ve seen him on the news. The PNW serial killer? It’s not reallyoriginal.” My steps scuff on the sidewalk, listening to Cass point out the ways I could try to be a supportive friend to Esme, instead of this thing that haunts the apartment.
But I just don’t understand. Even when he breaks it down for me, and tells me that he’s seen it work on other people who exist closer tonormalthan us, I just don’t understand how any of this comfort is going to work on Esme.
Finally I find myself back in front of my apartment building, and I decide the lecture has gone on long enough. Twenty-five minutes is really a gracious length of time to let Cass lecture me, especially when I don’t want to hear it.
“Okay, okay,” I cut him off and lean against the stone wall of the apartment building. Sometimes, it feels like we’re the only ones living there with how low the traffic in and out of the place is. But again, I’m not complaining. As of the other night, I’d be thrilled to know we were alone here, instead of sharing it with anyone who might see me do something awful.
Something like killing Alan.
Something like ripping Larkin to little shreds of pale skin.
“Hmm?” I roll my eyes up at the window above me. “What’d you say?”
“I’m worried about you. You’re off. And I know why without you telling me. We talked about this,”Cass warns in his permanently neutral, dry tone.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re—”
“Idon’t want to talk about it anymore. I just need Esme to chill, and this weirdo sending me invitations to fuck off. Or I’llmakehim fuck off,” I promise with a bit of vehement ambition coloring my tone. It only makes Cass snort, but he doesn’t immediately jump on my case at my words.
“I’m not there to help.”
“I don’t need you to be.”
“Don’t be sloppy, Sierra.”
“God, I wish you’d call me Tova.”
“If you get caught again, you’re not getting back to your snake. They’ll never let you out.”His words of warning make me shake my head, even though my oldest friend can’t see it.
“I’m not being sloppy, Cass. Everything is fine. I’llmakeit fine. Later.” Barely waiting for his reply, I hang up, feeling like I’ve talked myself up enough to actually implement some of his suggestions.
The elevator takes forever, but that’s fine. I’d rather have the extra time to plan out my night, and to figure out ways to help Esme feel better about this. Or at the very least, ideas to distract her and make her feel ‘supported,’ as Cass suggested.
