Page 51 of Into Pitch

“Okay, calm down. What do you mean they found him?” I try to soothe the frantic look in her eyes.

“He’s dead, Sadie.”

The world tilts and I step back automatically, my spine hitting the edge of the kitchenette.

“They think—” Imogen swallows hard. “They think he died around the night of Pitch. Or close to it, not that they know he was at Pitch. They just found his body dumped.”

Fuck.

“Sadie?” Imogen’s voice trembles. “Say something.”

I drag in a breath, then another. Force my heart back into rhythm that won’t give me away.

“That’s… horrible,” I state carefully, because that’s what you say when someone dies. “Jesus, Imogen. I’m so sorry. But… we kind of knew people were getting killed at Pitch.”

Her face twists as if she can’t believe what I have said and she lets go of my hoodie. “Okay, but it’s still alarming, Sadie.”

“I mean, sure… but—”

“But what? He’s dead!” She snaps and I sigh, dragging my hands down my face.

“I’m sorry, Imogen. It’s just… Pitch was a lot to process and I’m clearly still processing it.”

She chews on her lip for a moment, her eyes searching my expression. “I didn’t even think anything of him going quiet at first. But then the cops showed up at my shop this morning asking questions and—”

“The cops? About what?” I blurt.

“Yeah, they knew we were talking and they—”

“Jesus, Imogen—please tell me you didn’t tell them about Pitch. You know what they warned us about when we left.” I breathe as I turn to her fully, praying my friend wasn’t stupid enough to do it.

“Of course, I didn’t! I’m not an idiot.” She snaps and my shoulders sag in relief.

“I just—I can’t stop thinking about what happened in there and how bad it could’ve been for both of us. And now this?” She pushes out, fear lacing her tone.

“Did they say how he died?” I probe, careful.

Imogen shakes her head. “No. Just that it looked like he’d been dead a while. No obvious cause yet.” She swallows. “Sadie… what if this goes somewhere bad? For us too?”

If she only knew the half of it.

I’m not fond of lies, but I don’t want my friend stressing either. Not when she’s got enough on her plate already. And somehow I think telling her I’m fucking a psychopath from Pitch might not go over so well.

“I don’t think it will. They had us sign waivers and NDA’s. They covered themselves.”

She snorts weakly. “That’s what scares me.”

We stand there in silence, the bus suddenly too small for everything pressing in. After a moment, Imogen straightens and wipes her face. Trying to pull herself together the way she always does when things get ugly.

“I should probably open up the shop. Give myself something to do.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” I murmur.

She hesitates as she moves to the door, her hand pausing on the handle. “Hey are you okay? You look a little… worn.”

I snort, “yeah, I’m fine.”

“You always say that.”