KIRA
Istand in the apartment and survey the place. Stellan lingers beside me, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.
“It looks so… cheap.” I frown a little. “And dingy.”
“Itischeap and dingy. Remember how you worked two jobs?”
“Oh, right.” I glance at him. “You’re still giving everyone here a break, right?”
“For as long as they want to stay.”
“Good.” I stretch my legs and twist my back. “I’ll visit everyone later. But for now, we’re going to rip this place to shreds, right?”
He grins. “Sounds fun. I’m good at that.”
We get to work. He starts in the kitchen and I go to the living room. When I first moved in here, I brought most of our stuff from the old house with us. Mom's stuff got mixed up in the bunch, plus some things from back in my father’s day.
It stands to reason that Dad hid the key somewhere he knew. It could've been taped to the back of a chair or shoved under a rug. Or maybe sewn into a cushion on the couch.
I don't know, but we’re going to find out.
It's hard work destroying my life. And actually pretty cathartic. I’m still mad at my mom for what she did, but each new stab of the knife into the couch makes me feel a little better. I keep imagining it’s her face I’m cutting in half.
“Nothing out here,” I say after meticulously going over every inch. “I’m trying the bedroom.”
“I’ll be in shortly.” His head is in the cabinets, looking around. “Almost done.”
The bed gets it next. The mattress is old. It could've been from my dad's time; I don't really know. I cut into that fucker with a vengeance. Springs and stuffing jut out like the guts of a murder victim. I shove my hands inside, looking for anything metallic and hard that's not supposed to be there, but nothing turns up. I go over every inch of the frame, the dressers, and even the closet.
Stellan helps. We don't find a damn thing.
After a couple of hours, I sit on the floor in the living room, exhausted. He sits beside me, hand on my leg, pulling from a bottle of beer. I snatch it from him and take a drink myself, just to wet my throat.
“I really thought it'd be here,” I say, feeling like a failure. “I was so confident.”
“Why?” He frowns at me, tilting his head.
“I mean, this is where we lived.”
“But it's not.”
“What are you talking about? Me and Gem—” I groan and spread my hands wide. “Oh, I'm so stupid.”
“You brought all your old stuff here, and if the key isn't on your stuff, it could be somewhere else.”
“Like in the house where I grew up.”
“Where your father lived.”
“Shit.” I push to my feet and start pacing. “I haven't seen that place in years. We moved out when my mom couldn't afford it anymore. I have no clue who lives there now.”
“That won't be a problem.”
“How is thatnota problem?! We need to tear through that house. Nobody's going to let us do that.”
His eyebrows raise. “Who said they'dletus?”
“I mean, how else—” I cross my arms, glaring at him. “You're talking some crime shit, right?”
