Rick closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He was overcomplicating it. He didn’t need to be the one who found him. What he needed was to be gone before anyone found Graham’s body. Let someone else discover it.
Backing toward the hallway, Rick forced himself not to run. He paused at the entrance and looked down at the floor.
Shoes. He’d walked through the house. There would be marks, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He could only hope the mess he’d created would blur it. That the police would focus on the obvious. That the break-in story would give them someone else to chase.
Rick’s heart thudded hard in his chest as he stepped into his shoes and pulled on his coat properly. He stopped at the door again and looked back into the house.
For one second, a wave of disbelief hit him. He’d come here for dinner and to pitch an album, and now there was a dead body in the living room and a staged mess, and a back door left unlocked.
Rick’s hands curled into fists. He should feel guilt or regret, but instead, beneath the fear, there was something else. A tiny thrill. He swallowed hard, disgusted with himself.
With a shake of his head, Rick opened the front door and stepped out into the cold night. He walked fast, but not too fast, forcing his shoulders to loosen, making his posture normal so it looked like everything was okay.
A neighbor’s porch light flicked on somewhere down the street, and a dog barked, then fell quiet again. Rick ignored it and kept going.
Two houses down, Rick’s car waited. He got in, hands shaking as he started it, then he sat there for a moment, staring ahead and breathing deeply. Rick’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he let out a slow breath and pulled away from the curb.
As he drove, the fear didn’t disappear, but the thrill inside him grew. He’d done it. He’d actually done it, and he was leaving, and no one had stopped him. Rick stared at the road, his jaw clenched. He could get away with it. He could murder someone and get away with it, and he found that he liked it. Finally, something he’d buried deep inside had been freed.
Chapter Four
Aweek passed, and nothing had changed in Allen’s life. He went to work, then he went home, where he slept and did it all again. The nights blurred together until Friday finally hit, and even then it didn’t feel like anything to celebrate.
Finishing his shift at the call center, Allen shut his computer down and checked his phone. He pulled his jacket on and headed out. The cold air hit his face, and he walked faster without meaning to, shoulders slightly hunched against it. The café was busy around this time. It always was, with people stopping in before they headed home, students taking over tables for hours, couples who acted as if they were the only ones in the room.
Allen almost turned toward the bus stop instead, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to go home yet. Not to the silence and the scrolling that made him feel worse. So he went to the café.
The bell above the door chimed when he walked in. The place was packed, with every table full, chairs pulled close together, and people talking over each other.
Allen paused near the entrance and scanned the room. He didn’t see Jamie, Mark, or Connor. Either they were late, or they’d bailed, or he’d mixed up the day. That wouldn’t be surprising. His brain had been mush all week.
He checked his phone and found no messages. Allen exhaled and stepped farther inside, weaving past a couple standing too close to the counter while they decided what to order. He moved to the side and waited until a gap opened. When it did, he ordered a chai latte, then paid and waited. While the barista made it, he watched the room again. Still nowhere to sit unless he hovered and waited for someone to leave.
He took the drink when it was handed to him and turned away from the counter, trying not to look as if he didn’t know where to go. That was when the door chimed again, and Allen glanced over without thinking.
A man stepped inside, tall enough that he had to tilt his head slightly to look around. Dark hair, slightly messy, as if he’d run his hand through it too many times, a salt and pepper goatee. A black coat that fit well. Broad shoulders. He looked as if he worked out.
Allen’s eyes flicked to his face. Green eyes, a salt-and-pepper goatee and plump lips. For a second Allen thought he recognized him. Not in a personal way, as in they’d met at some point, but in a way he couldn’t quite place.
The man scanned the room, then frowned slightly when he realized there were no empty tables. He shifted his weight, looked toward the back, then toward the window seats. He took a step forward and stopped when his gaze landed on Allen.
Allen held his drink with both hands and suddenly he was aware he was standing alone, with nowhere to be. The manwalked toward him, and Allen didn’t know what to do. “Sorry,” he said when he reached Allen. “Are you waiting for someone, or are you on your own?”
Allen blinked once. Up close, the recognition hit harder. It wasn’t a full certainty, but it was enough to make his stomach twist. It was him. Rick Marcus. The one-hit guy with that song that had been everywhere when Allen was in school. The one that still popped up on past era playlists, or people put on at parties and sang along because it had been that catchy.
Rick nodded toward the room. “It’s packed. I’m not seeing an empty table. If you’re on your own… would you mind if I shared?”
Allen’s first instinct was to say yes. His second was to tell himself not to be an idiot. Sharing a table didn’t mean anything. People did it all the time when a place was busy. Except this wasn’t just anyone. This was Rick Marcus!
He forced his face to remain blank. “I’m… waiting for friends,” he said, then immediately regretted it because it sounded like a lie, even though it wasn’t. “But they’re not here yet.”
Rick’s mouth twitched as if he knew what that meant. Or as if he’d been told the same thing a hundred times by people trying to be polite. “That’s fine,” Rick said. “If you’d rather keep the table, I can—”
“No,” Allen cut in before he could overthink it. “It’s okay.”
Rick studied him for half a second, then he nodded once. “Thanks.”
Allen moved first, because if he didn’t, he’d just stand there. He headed toward a small two-person table near the wall that someone had just cleared. It wasn’t the best spot, but it was a place to sit. He put his drink down, then pulled a chair out and sat down.
