Regret.
What did he regret? Doing it or me seeing him do it?
My heart was in my throat as I pulled off the highway and made turn after turn, navigating the sleepy New Haven streets. Headlights caught my rearview mirror. But as fast as they appeared, they were gone.
My skin buzzed as I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. The hum of passing cars on the street that circled the grid of buildings should have added enough ambient noise for the hour, but it was still far too quiet.
I grabbed the bag of cash that felt more like a ball and chain than a get-out-of-jail-free card, clutching it to my chest as I hurried across the lot.
My pulse raced faster with each step. Every bush was someone lying in wait, ready to jump me when I passed. Every shadow was someone running to grab the bag out of my arms. My breath quickened as I dipped into the lit portico and dashed up the stairs, just in case someone was hiding beneath them. I had my hand balled into a fist with my keys jabbing out between each finger, as if that would protect me.
Jude.
Of course the first time I have a crush in my entire three decades of life on earth, he’s a criminal.
Just my luck.
I always imagined when I fell in love . . .ifI fell in love, that he’d be sweet. We’d spend our nights curled up on the couch, watching baseball or reading or playing cards. Maybe we’d get into a docuseries and argue good-naturedly about watching it together when one of us accidentally got an episode ahead.
He’d be the kind of man to open the door for me. He’d always stop and pick up my favorite snack on his way home from work, just because.
He’d bring me coffee during late nights when I was grading papers or surprise me with flowers during my office hours.
We’d live a quiet life, content simply being together.
But right now, a quiet life wasn’t my reality.
Beach vacation. Tiny bikini. Umbrella drink.The image of what I would indulge in when this nightmare was over was what kept my hands from shaking long enough for me to get the door open.
The moment my foot crossed the threshold, the building rumbled. I grabbed the doorframe, and my ears rang at the deafening crack and boom of an explosion. I turned just as thesky lit up in a macabre glow. The sight of a car exploding into a fireball shook me to the bone.
“Oh my god,” I whispered as everything went numb.
I was vaguely aware of Joel hobbling over on his crutches and peering out at the parking lot as black smoke billowed in rolling waves. Flames licked up every inch of the car like it had been doused in gasoline. The acrid tinge of burning metal and rubber wafted through the air like a demented sedative.
One by one, lights turned on across the complex as other residents woke to the horror playing out before my very eyes.
I had just been walking through the parking lot.
Nothing was on fire.
No one else had been around.
Joel’s eyes turned to dinner plates as his jaw hit the top of his foot. “That’s my car,” he rasped, as if he could barely admit what we both knew.
Sirens began to fill the air as the fire department two blocks down responded to what was probably dozens of 911 calls.
“What the hell?” he croaked as he tried to ease out of the door and onto the balcony to get a better view. “I haven’t driven for two days. It was running fine and?—”
I nudged him back inside and slammed the door, certain that the cops would be here any minute.
I locked the doorknob and deadbolt and was debating pulling the couch in front of it to barricade us in when Joel took stock of the terror in my eyes.
“Mia . . . What happened?”
I swallowed. “I think . . . I think I saw something tonight that I wasn’t supposed to.” I held the bag a little tighter.
If the arson was Jude’s doing, I had no idea how he pulled it off. I left Atlantic City right away, and he went inside the casino. How would he have gotten here before me and set it up? And how would he even have known where I lived? I didn’t seeanyone in the parking lot when I pulled in or when I was walking up to my unit. The boogeyman creeping through the shadows was all in my head.
