Flat tire
No cameras by loading bay
Phone/wallet/watch
Done
Allen stared at the words until they stopped making sense, then snapped back into place. Flat tire. 10pm. Phone, wallet, watch. He’d seen those details because he’d read them in an article. He’d told himself it was a robbery. He told himself it didn’t mean anything, but it actually did mean something.
He backed out and stared at the list again. Allen’s stomach lurched. He put the phone down on the couch and stood up too fast, grabbing the back of the chair to steady himself. He paced from the couch to the kitchen and back, running his hands through his hair, his eyes straying to the phone repeatedly. He’d seen it. Seen the proof that Rick was involved in the murders, or that he knew who had done it.
“This is…” he whispered, then stopped. He couldn’t say the words out loud. He slowly closed his eyes and tried to breathe. Coincidence was the word his brain told him, but it didn’t work anymore. He opened his eyes and looked at the phone again. It wasn’t a coincidence. It was planning. That’s what the lists were for. Information needed to plan what happened.
Allen picked up the phone again because some part of him still wanted to be wrong. He scrolled back to the top, back to Cass, back to that hotel name. He could see it clearly now. The cream card. The gold border. The logo. It had been in Rick’s car.
Allen swallowed hard, his eyes burning. He wasn’t going to cry. Crying didn’t fix anything or change what he’d found.
Rick was moving around in the bedroom now. Allen heard his footsteps, then a drawer moving. His voice was low and calm as he finished the call. Allen turned the burner phone off with shaking fingers. The screen went dark, but the words stayed in his head.
He stood there with the bag open on the couch, the zipper still down, the front pocket gaping. He should’ve put everything back. He should’ve zipped it up. He should’ve acted normal, but his hands didn’t move.
Rick’s footsteps came closer now. He walked in with his phone in his hand, expression relaxed. He glanced at the phone, then at Allen.
“You found it,” he stated.
Allen was still holding the burner, turned off now. The weight was heavy in his hand. He couldn’t make his mouth work. Couldn’t find anything to say. Rick’s eyes dropped to what Allen was holding. His expression didn’t change much, but something in it tightened.
Allen felt his body go cold. Rick knew exactly what Allen had found, and Allen knew there wasn’t a harmless explanation coming.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rick stopped in the doorway when he saw what Allen was holding. Allen stood by the couch with Rick’s bag open beside him. The front pocket gaped, and Rick could see Allen’s hands shake. His face was pale, and his eyes were wide. In his hand was Rick’s old phone.
It was turned off, but Rick didn’t need it on to know what Allen had seen. Allen’s body gave it away. The stiffness in his shoulders. The way his fingers were wrapped so tightly around the phone that his knuckles had turned white.
Rick kept his expression relaxed and his voice even. “You found it.”
Allen didn’t answer. He only stared at him. Rick crossed the room and put his phone down on the couch. He wanted his hands free. He wanted Allen to see he wasn’t hiding anything.
Rick saw Allen swallow. “What is this?”
“It’s a phone.”
Allen’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”
Rick held his gaze. “Okay.” Taking a step closer, Rick paused when Allen lifted the phone up, like he might throw it at him. Rick didn’t look at the phone. He looked at Allen. “What did you read?” Rick asked.
Allen swallowed hard. “Don’t do that. Don’t make this about what I read.”
Rick nodded. “I’m not. I’m asking so I know where you are.”
Allen stared at him, then shook his head. “What?”
Rick kept his voice calm. “Tell me.”
Allen’s mouth opened, then closed. His eyes flicked down to the phone as if he could pull the words from the screen again. “Cass,” Allen said finally. The name came out rough. “Elliot.”
Rick didn’t let his emotions show on his face. He watched Allen glance at the phone, then back at him. Allen swallowed again, then exhaled and looked at the floor before lifting his head and saying, “You wrote those notes.”
