Page 6 of Peripheral Vision

“A thank you would be nice,” he chides from the other side of the door. And then he’s gone.

“I’m sorry, he did what?!”Thea yells, and a little bit too loudly by the way heads are turning in the cafe.

“For fucks sake, Thea. A little privacy would be nice,” I say as I rub at my temples profusely. “You and I both know you heard me perfectly clear.”

She lets out an incredulous laugh. “Yes, but do you hear yourself? I mean, who does that? Maybe he’s playing a game of psychological warfare with you.”

“I have no idea. But it was single-handedly the weirdest experience of my life. I’m not even sure how to move on from it. Should I be afraid? Should I feel resolved? I still have no idea why he was in my house. I didn’t find anything missing and I certainly didn’t find anything additional to my wardrobe. And when I went back upstairs, Alaska was perfectly fine, as though there wasn’t an intruder in the house. She was sleeping as soundly as she ever has.”

“Is it possible that this is someone you know?” she asks. “I mean, think about it. Whoever he is has been in your house twice now, andeach time Alaska has remained neutral. I know she’s a sweetheart, but even the most kind-natured dogs bark when someone they don’t know enters their territory. Especially when it sounds like you were making as much noise as you could to get away from him. Just saying.” She looks at her fingernails before looking at me matter-of-factly.

I take a sip of my coffee. “But if Alaska knows this person, then wouldn’t I? She’s my dog, she wasn’t my dad’s. And it isn’t like we had a ton of traffic coming through here over the last few years.”

“Guess you better sit and start doing some evaluating. On another note, how the hell did you get out of the closet?”

“I called my neighbors. Believe me, it was a much easier option than calling you so you could record the whole thing and post it to whatever social media site that tickles your fancy. I didn’t have to elaborate so much either. They thought it was just an honest accident on my part. ‘Oh, I haven’t been sleeping well since getting the news my dad passed and must have accidentally locked the closet and not propped it open appropriately.” I feign a high-pitched voice.

“Okay, first of all, how dare you assume the worst of me? Second of all, I absolutely would have, but that isn’t the point. And third, that closet door doesn’t automatically hinge closed.” She points an accusatory finger at me.

“Yeah, but they didn’t need to know that” I point right back at her.

“Well, if I were you, I’d probably be feeling equally afraid and resolved, and maybe slightly turned on.” I smack her on her arm, shaking my head, but equally curious. “On the one hand, he doesn’t seem to be out to get you. But on the other hand, he is probably still doing this for a reason. Is there some sort of secret wealth your dad kept hidden away that others may know about? Something you haven’t even told me, perhaps?”

“If there is, he never told me about it. To think of all the problems that could solve for me right now… not to mention I’d have gone overboard on baby items for you,” I say, chuckling.

“Damn right you would. This baby isn’t gonna dress him or herself.” She winks. “Speaking of solving problems, how is the rental search coming? Have you found anything yet?”

“I’m waiting to hear back on one right now. It’s small, but considering it’s only Alaska and I, and it’s in my price range, I don’t mind that so much. It’s got character and backs up to the woods. Oh, and it’s got an extra bedroom in case you and the little one ever need to escape.”

Beaming, Thea throws herself across the table to pull me into an embrace. “And that is why we are best friends. God, I’m going to miss you. You know you’re always welcome at ours too, right? The house is empty enough as it is when Lucas is gone, so don’t be a stranger.”

“Never.”

When Theaand I are finished at the cafe, I head back home again to check my laptop to see if the landlord of the house had gotten back to me. To my surprise, and my delight, they had not only gotten back to me, but were wondering how soon I could move in. Apparently, they’ve been having trouble finding tenants that were up to their standards. How they settled on me checking their boxes, I have no idea, and I don’t ask. I am just happy to have been selected.

“Seems like the odds are in my favor…” I mutter out loud. A welcome change from the last few weeks. Since I have a few days yet until the funeral, I ask to come and tour the property before I fully commit, and they get back to me right away with a list of times that work for them over the next week. I also make sure to ask if it would be alright for me to bring some items to drop off in case I decide to say yes, sign the lease, and pay the deposit. The property is already prepared to be moved into, so I might as well try tokill a few birds with one stone. Since I will be over by the school, and I doubt there is much that will get me to say no to the property, I’ll just drop off my in-person enrollment, too. Now all I have left to do is to find a job.

Chapter

Five

FLETCHER

Istand apart from the crowd, leaning against a tree as more and more people flow in, settling into their seats or around them. One seat in the front row remains empty. Some of the uniformed men and women I recognize, some I don’t. My eyes roam to the road where several onlookers stand, including Dylan, as they await the coach that will escort her father’s remains. It doesn’t take long. Those who have previously found their positions at the burial site stand and make room to accommodate the procession, which will be guiding the casket to its appropriate position. The chaplain guides the procession, followed by Dylan and the other members of the funeral, before the casket is set down and the flag is secured. Everybody finds their seats once more as the service begins.

Often, my eyes drift to where she sits, stone-faced as though she would rather be anywhere else. She sits that way through the cannon fire, as she stands for the honors, the rifle volley, and taps. She stares through it all, only offering a small nod and thanks of appreciation as she’s handed the folded-up flag. She continues on that way long after everyone has departed. Everyone except for myself. I was happy to notice that she at least wore the outfit exactlyas I laid it out for her. That she wasn’t swayed by the fact someone had been following her. ThatIhad been following her. It fills me with a despotic need to own her. To make all of my thoughts, her thoughts, and make her think she came up with them. I could approach her, hell, maybe I should—I definitely want to. It would be the right thing to do but I can’t bring myself to move. It feels like there are too many miles and too many years between us since we’ve seen each other. That, and the question of whether she would recognize me hangs in the air. Would she figure out that it was me in her house the other night? I want her to put the pieces together eventually, but it doesn’t feel right to do it while she is in such a vulnerable state.

Just as I am about to walk away and make my leave, she stands up, turning in my direction. We make eye contact, and she pauses before a flicker of recognition sparks in her gaze. She opens her mouth as though she is about to say something and starts to approach me, but I pull out my phone and act as though I’m speaking to someone before turning and walking away from her. It makes me feel like a real piece of shit too, when all I want is to alleviate her discontent. When she obviously needs someone to commiserate with. Knowing Dylan, or the Dylan of the past anyway, she puts on a brave face but it’s always covering up the string of emotions she keeps hidden under that facade. She has no one to take care of her now.

I continue walking without looking behind me, before pulling my phone away from my ear and making an actual phone call. Over the last few days I noticed that Dylan has slowly been moving things out of her house. At first I thought it was just her rearranging, but then I saw moving boxes through the camera I installed in her bedroom the night we ran into each other while I was in her house. A surge of irritation hits me, and I feel the color rise through my neck when I consider the fact that the effort I put in to install said camera will have gone to waste. Especially seeing as I will have to do it againwhen I figure out where her new address is, which is what I’m doing now.

“Jeffries.”

“Hey, Jeffries, it’s Fletcher. I need you to do something for me. You got a minute?”

“Depends. What’s in it for me?” I hear the sound of his keyboard in the background as he works.

“I don’t rat your ass out to the agency for doing under the table checks.”