A sound cut through the silence.
Rick froze, his head snapping up. He paused and listened, but only heard the sounds of the house. His pulse hammered anyway. He listened again, holding his breath and closing his eyes, concentrating on the house and the sounds it made. When he heard nothing else, Rick slowly exhaled. He couldn’t do this in the open. Not here. Not with his hands shaking and his mind racing.
Letting go of Graham, Rick straightened, wiping his gloved hands on his jeans. He walked to the sink and leaned against the counter and stared at the dark window.
His reflection stared back, showing blood flecks on his cheek. A man with wide eyes who looked…shocked. Rick lifted his hand and touched his cheek where the blood had dried, not recognizing himself.
Or maybe Rick did. Maybe this was who he’d been all along, buried under the interviews and fake smiles and perfect hair. He took a shaky breath and straightened. He couldn’t stay like this. He grabbed paper towels, wet them, and wiped his face clean. He scrubbed at his shirt where blood had spattered, but it only smeared.
Rick needed to change. He’d need to ditch the clothes. Right now, he needed to move. Rick went back into the dining room and stared down at Graham one more time.
The manager lay twisted on the floor where Rick had left him. The candlelight made the blood look darker almost black, and Rick’s throat tightened. He forced himself to speak, low and firm, as he gave himself an order.
“Do it,” he said.
He bent down, took hold of Graham again, and dragged him toward the back of the house.
Chapter Two
Allen Black logged out of his computer, waited for the screen to confirm, and then pulled his headset off. The call center was winding down as shifts changed. A few people were still on calls, their voices polite. Others were packing up, talking about dinner plans and weekend shifts.
Allen stood, grabbed his jacket, and checked his phone. Three percent battery. He locked it and shoved it into his pocket. He didn’t need it for the walk, as the café was only ten minutes away, and he’d been going there since he was eighteen. He could get there with his eyes closed. He slid his chair in, nodded at his supervisor on the way out, and walked outside.
The cold air hit his face and woke him up more than the last hour of work had. The sidewalk was damp from the earlier rain, and Allen sighed as he set off at a steady pace, hands shoved into his pockets.
Work had been the usual. People angry about their bills or angry about delays, or people who started the call angry andended it angrier. Allen didn’t take it personally anymore. He’d learned how to keep his tone even and his voice calm, how to say the same sentence ten different ways until the customer finally understood it. He’d developed a thick skin, and the abuse bounced off him now. Still, by the time he clocked out, his head felt full, and he needed to take a few deep breaths to settle himself.
He kept walking and tried not to think about the silence waiting for him at home. The apartment was small but clean, and at times a little too quiet. It wasn’t that he didn’t have friends. He had plenty of friends, but it just wasn’t the same as having someone to call his own.
Allen had dated once in high school. Properly dated. Lucas had been in his year, and for a few months Allen had thought he’d finally found what everyone else seemed to have so easily. Someone to text. Someone to sit with at lunch. Someone who looked at him and made him feel like he mattered.
It had ended the way a lot of teenage relationships end. Lucas had gone to college in another city, and Allen had stayed. They’d tried long distance for a few weeks, then the replies got slower, the calls got shorter, and one day Lucas had said, “I think we should just be friends.”
Allen had agreed, and he’d even meant it. It made sense, but it had left a gap he hadn’t expected. After that, he’d done what his friends did. Nights out at clubs. A few hookups that started with a smile and ended with Allen staring at a ceiling he didn’t recognize, wondering why he felt worse instead of better.
He wasn’t judging anyone who liked that. It just never satisfied him. Not really. He liked flirting and the attention it got him, and he liked feeling wanted for an hour or so, but he wanted something that lasted past the end of the night. Someone who asked how his day had been and actually wanted to hear about it, someone who didn’t treat him as a quick fuck.
The anniversary of his parents’ death had been a week ago. He’d bought flowers and taken them to the cemetery. He’d still felt the absence. Missed seeing and talking to them and it added to the loneliness that had been building inside. It made him want something steady. Someone who stayed.
When Allen reached the café, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The place smelled of coffee and pastries, and Allen’s stomach rumbled. He looked around and saw a couple sitting by the window with their laptops open. Someone was studying at a corner table, highlighter in hand, reading whatever they had in front of them. The music was low enough that you didn’t have to raise your voice to be heard.
Allen went to the counter and ordered a chai latte. He paid, waited, and accepted the cup with both palms wrapped around it. He turned around and scanned the room, and saw his friends were already there.
They’d claimed the bigger table near the back. The same table they’d used for years. Sometimes Allen wondered if they’d still be meeting in places like this when they were forty. Maybe. Probably. Some friendships stayed while others drifted away.
“Alright, look who’s finally free,” Jamie called as Allen approached.
Jamie was the loudest of them all. Dark hair, broad shoulders, and always joking. He worked in construction, and it showed. He also had kind eyes, even when he pretended he didn’t.
Allen slid into the seat beside him. “I wasn’t late.”
“You’re late to everything,” Jamie said, grinning.
“Only to the boring stuff.”
“That’s everything,” Jamie replied, and the table laughed.
Across from Allen, Mark raised his cup in a small salute. Mark always looked put together. Great haircut, steady job, nice apartment. The one who could stop an argument before it turned into something else.
