“Relax, it’s lavender.” She lights it and hands it over.
It is indeed lavender. “I take it all back.”
“See, I know what I’m doing.” She waves her hand. “To anyone else we are just two girlies sharing a joint.”
I look around and inhale slowly. Saturday afternoon, there are people on the street—not packed, but enough that we need to look casual. To anyone passing by, we’re just two girls sharing a joint and chatting. Nothing suspicious.
Certainly not two amateur investigators searching a murder scene thirteen hours after the crime.
My hands are shaking. I hide them by gripping the joint tighter.
It’s smart. Necessary. And I’m annoyed I didn’t think of it.
But Alex did.
“Come on.” Alex grabs my hand. “I think this is it.”
She starts toward the alley and I freeze. My feet won’t move.
“Dylan.” She tugs my hand. “We have to do this now.”
“What if—” My voice comes out hoarse. “What if Dom’s team is still here?”
“They’re not. I’ve been watching.” She squeezes my hand. “There are no cameras. I checked. The accounting office doesn’t have any. We’re between street lights. It’s a complete blind spot.”
I force my feet to move. One step. Two.
“That’s why he chose it,” I whisper.
“Yeah.” Alex’s voice is tight. “That’s why.”
I look at the mouth of the alley. Across the street is another alley. “Even if the businesses had cameras, they wouldn’t point over here.”
“Exactly.” She walks in while I take another drag of the lavender joint and hand it over.
“Too small for a dumpster too.” She looks at the ground.
The alley is darker than the street—the buildings block most of the afternoon sun—but I can still see. Shadows, yes, but not pitch black. My eyes adjust as we move deeper.
The alley smells wrong. Not just pee and trash—there’s something chemical underneath.
“Do you smell that?” My stomach churns.
Alex wrinkles her nose. “Bleach?”
“Cleaning supplies.” My hands shake. “Dom’s team was here. This morning. Less than twelve hours ago. Has to be that. Alley’s here don’t just smell like bleach for no reason.”
“Oh God.” Alex covers her mouth. “We’re standing where?—”
“Where she died. Yeah.” I force myself to look at the ground. “The scene is fresh.”
While we were sleeping. While I was watching Alex breathe and thanking God she was alive, Dom’s team was here with industrial cleaner. Erasing a woman like she never existed.
That’s the business. That’s what I’ve been helping him build for five years.
Neither of us moves. Just stand there in the dim alley, breathing chemical-laced air, knowing what happened here last night.
Every sound from the street makes me freeze—footsteps, car engines, voices. What if Dom sent someone back? What if they see us here?
