Unlocked.
Pulse racing, I push the door open, and my blood freezes in my veins.
Two uniformed police officers stand in my living room, their blue uniforms stark against the stainedwhite paint. Their presence alone would be enough to spike my pulse, but what turns my muscles to stone is the third person in the room.
Rowan sits on my couch, in the spot I prefer, with one ankle resting on the opposite knee, his posture relaxed as if he belongs here. As if this is his home and not a space he has invaded without permission. Again.
My skin prickles with awareness as everyone turns toward me. The female officer straightens, her hand moving to rest near her belt in an unconscious gesture that speaks volumes. Her partner, a thick-necked man with a crew cut, studies me.
“Mr. Halloway?” The woman steps forward, her boots creaking on the worn floorboards. “I’m Officer Park. This is Officer Ramirez. We need to ask you a few questions.”
“Sure,” I say in understanding as the second officer draws my attention. Something about him niggles at the back of my memory, putting me on high alert.
My gaze flicks to Rowan, who offers the barest hint of a shrug, as if to say this is all routine.
I step inside, closing the door behind me. “What’s this about?”
“It’s regarding a man named Daniel Humphry.”Officer Ramirez flips open a small notebook, his thumb running along the edge of the pages. “We understand your sister may have had contact with him.”
My tongue turns to sandpaper in my mouth. “My sister’s sixteen.”
“We’re aware.” Officer Park’s voice remains professional, but she never stops cataloging my reactions. “That’s why we’re here.”
Movement in the hallway catches my peripheral vision. Lena hovers in the shadows, her arms wrapped around herself, and my body angles to position myself between her and the officers.
“The thing is, Mr. Halloway,” Officer Ramirez continues, “Daniel Humphry hasn’t been seen for several days. His employer reported him missing when he didn’t show up for work last week.”
My pulse counts time in my ears, steady despite the adrenaline flooding my system. “I’m not sure what that has to do with us.”
“We found your sister’s school ID photo in his wallet.” Officer Park stares at me, waiting for a reaction. “Along with your address written on a piece of paper.”
The room contracts around me, the walls closing in. I was so careful to remove her name from his littletrophy book, but it never occurred to me to search his wallet.
My fingers flex, curling into loose fists before I force them to relax.
“Your sister mentioned he approached her at a bus stop.” Officer Ramirez looks toward Lena and back to me. “What we need to establish is when this occurred and whether either of you had any contact with him after that initial encounter.”
An obvious trap, and I calculate my words.
“He harassed her on her way home from school.” Half-truths flow easier than outright lies.
“When was this?” Officer Park asks when I offer nothing further.
“Two weeks ago.” The timeline shifts in my head, dates and alibis aligning into a version of events that can’t be disproven. “Thursday or Friday, I think. Lena would know better than me.”
“Friday,” Rowan interjects, smooth as polished stone. He uncrosses his legs and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “It was definitely Friday, because Ash and I had plans that evening when Lena called about the situation.”
Officer Ramirez turns toward him, pen poised above his notebook. “And you are?”
“Rowan Ward.” The name rolls off his tongue with practiced ease. “Ash’s partner.”
The words land between us, a claim I never agreed to, and can’t now dispute.
Officer Park’s eyebrow lifts a fraction. “And what were your plans that Friday night, Mr. Ward?”
“Dinner at Antonio’s in Rockhaven.” Rowan doesn’t hesitate, the details flowing with such natural confidence that I almost believe them. “We had reservations for eight, but Lena called around seven about this guy bothering her, so we canceled and came back here instead.”
My teeth grind together as he weaves a false narrative with such conviction. The worst part is how perfectly it aligns with what I need, an alibi for the exact hours when Danny was dying with my knife at his throat.
