Page 104

“What am I supposed to tell them?”

“That some guy’s… hurt, in the backseat of the black Charger. Then hang up.”

“How hurt?” There’s no judgment in the question.

“Collin, I’m asking you to call 911,” I say, barely above a whisper. “Will you do it?”

“Of course. I’ll call you back when it’s done.”

I hang up and close my eyes—hoping I made the right call.

When I go downstairs to search for cleaning supplies, I notice the mess in the living room for the first time. The coffee table is splintered. Blood’s smeared on it and the rug. This must be where he got to Rachel. I have a bigger mess to clean up than I thought.

A half hour later, I’ve given up scrubbing the blood out of the rug and decide to roll it up and take it out back with the broken table. Luckily, Rachel already had some sort of bonfire out here; might as well make another.

When I return inside, Collin’s standing in the foyer, scaring the shit out of me.

“Jesus,” I say with a start. “What are you doing here?”

“Cleaning up a crime scene, evidently,” Collin says, removing his sweatshirt and T-Shirt, the same as I did. The less blood on me, the better. He pokes his head in the living room. “Smells like you sanitized the shit out of this room. Where’s next?”

I’m still staring at him—not quite convinced he’s really here.

Collin narrows his eyes. “What? I can clean. I’m actually really good at it. Good thing you called me and not—” He stops himself.

“Collin, how did you know where to find me?”

“Dude.” He waves me off. “You don’t wanna know. And uh… I drove to Mick’s instead of calling. I needed to see for myself before the police got involved.”

“You did what? You didn’t touch anything, did you?” Panic thumps full force in my chest.

“No. The cops were already there. The whole parking lot was taped off.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Is he—” I can’t bring myself to say it.

Collin shrugs. “I don’t know. Were you as thorough with that car as you were with this room?”

“I hope so.”

My mind races, thinking of what I may have missed. I didn’t really believe his car would be a crime scene. I’d hoped anyone who found him would think he got into a fight at the bar and passed out in his backseat. I’m positive it’s not the first time police showed up there for something similar, or worse.

“You don’t want any part of this,” I say. “Just take off. I’ve got it.”

“That’s not happening.” Collin walks past me to the kitchen. He searches the cabinet under the sink and pulls on the second pair of rubber gloves from the package I opened. He snaps one on like he’s a surgeon. “Take me to the mess. Let’s commit a felony and erase all the evidence from this house. Which is really cute, by the way. Who lives here?”

“No one you should know,” I tell him, climbing the stairs with a bucket of water and a spray bottle of bleach solution. Hell, no one I wish I knew.

Except Emma, but she doesn’t live here anymore.

Collin lets out a low whistle when he sees the congealed blood on the floor. “Dude’s hurtin’. I will definitely check that he’s still alive when I leave. Don’t do any searches on your phone. I shut mine off when I left home.”

“Seriously?”

“Forensic Files,” he reminds me. Right. He binged that show all through high school. It was borderline disturbing.