Page 11 of Even in the Dark

“I’m good.”

“Okay. Alright…” Phil nods again. “I’ll leave you be, then.” He pulls me into an awkward half-hug.

I stand rigidly, not returning it.

He heads for the door, pausing to look back at me. “I’m glad you’re here, son.”

Son. The word twists inside my gut. I nod.

He hesitates like he wants to say more, then turns and closes the door behind him.

After he leaves, I grab a hoodie from one of the dresser drawers, study the view out the window overlooking thebackyard for a minute after pulling it on. The moonlight glints off the calm water. It’s peaceful here. Nothing like the chaotic, cramped apartments I grew up in.

I head downstairs, about to veer down the hall towards the patio doors in the kitchen that lead out to the back deck. But then I hear voices, coming from the sitting area off the kitchen. I recognize Diane’s clipped tone. Hear my name. She’s talking to Phil about me.

“…that he took something from your office tonight,” she’s saying. “We have to be careful, Phil. That boy has lived through horrors we can’t imagine, and I want to be there for him… But he’s unpredictable. He was violent—when they arrested him. And at the in-patient psych ward, there were several incidents where—”

“He’s on meds now,” Phil says. “He’s doing better.”

“It’s not anaffliction.” Diane sounds frustrated.

And now I want to know what an affliction means.

“The meds are to regulate mood swings… but they’re not going to miraculously counteractfourteen years of conditioning—by a deranged serial killer, Phil!” Her voice gets way higher on that last sentence, and I bristle.

She doesn’t know me.

My fingers find the edges of the frame in my pocket and I pull it out, rubbing my thumb absently back and forth against one of the ridged edges until it cuts into the pad of my thumb and I feel the warm, wet slide of blood against my skin.

I hear Phil’s response. “He just needs time. To be loved, for Chrissake! He’s notdangerous.”

“I want to help him, too,” Diane says, and I can tell she’s forcing herself to stay calm. “And we will. But we also have the girls to consider. We can’t just trust him blindly. He needs boundaries.”

“We just gave him boundaries! We told him he needs permission to go in our offices or in the girls’ rooms. And we’ll…”

Their voices dim as I veer right, heading for the side door instead of the kitchen, along a long hallway in a fancy house that’s supposed to be mine but doesn’t feel like mine at all. Holding a photo of a mother I don’t even recognize, not even caring that my blood is smeared all over the glass now.

Because blood, at least, is familiar.

Chapter Five

Scarlett

“Is he still there? That serial killer’s kid?” Gavin, my sort of boyfriend of the moment, leans forward and peers over my shoulder at the Braun’s house as I climb into his car. I asked him to come pick me up after dinner. A few people are heading to Hooks to hang for a while. The Rusty Hook (“Hooks” to us locals) is the diner where everyone hangs out in Sandy Haven.

I buckle my seatbelt and pull down the visor to check my hair. “He’s Philip Braun’s kid. And yeah, he’s still there. He lives there.”

“So, you met him?”

“Yup.” I snap the visor closed. “Are you going to drive? Or sit here stalking my neighbors the rest of the night?” The past two hours exhausted all of my patience. Also, any of my “sweet and bubbly girl” reserves.

“Whoa. Chill, babe.”

I should apologize for snapping. I don’t. And after a couple of seconds, Gavin sits back and starts the car. “So, what’s he like? I heard he’s crazy as fuck.”

“He’s quiet,” I say, echoing Diane’s initial answer to the same question just hours ago. Hopefully enough of a hint that it’s something I don’t want to elaborate on. I was ambivalent towards Dylan Braun before I’d even met him. Now I’m annoyed by him, too.

Okay. Thrown off.

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