Page 80 of Liar Byrd
Why did Nance warn me away from it?
Because it wasn’t safe? Or because it had something to do with a murder that no one will tell me about?
I stand at the entrance to the roof, scanning it in search of the elusive something that I shouldn’t know anything about. It’s about fifteen or twenty feet wide, and in the distance, tiny white lights flicker. That must be the town.
It wasn’t just my curiosity that drove me up here. It was fear.
I barely slept last night because I’m scared there’s something I should know about the three men in this house before I start to develop more feelings for them.
Nance refuses to answer any of my questions, insisting I should ask Mr. Gabriel instead since it's not her place. Lydia is quiet and impassive. All she does is avoid me, scroll on her phone, and flip through wedding magazines during meals.
And Kit? I try to think of the dead gardener, likely buried somewhere in the garden, as little as possible.
I could ask Vonn about the killer in this house, but I’m afraid he will tell me something that makes me afraid of him again, especially since he’s responsible for Kit no longer breathing. It’s a stupid reason not to ask a question, but maybe I’m stupid for staying in a house where I know there is a killer.
There’s no big mystery here. Just a gray stone roof exposed to the elements. If I don’t go back downstairs soon, I’ll get soaked from a rainstorm blowing in from the east.
"You shouldn’t be up here,” a familiar male voice calls out.
Makhi.
I jerk my head to my left, squinting until I see him.
He’s perched on the roof's edge. A moment later, a flicking sound echoes, and the smell of something herbal and strong wafts toward me as smoke rises into the dark sky.
Whatever he’s smoking is not just a cigarette.
Curious, I wander toward him. My heart lurches, and I don’t know whether I’m alarmed or terrified to find he has his legs hanging over the side and a white hand-rolled cigarette dangling from his mouth.
“Why shouldn’t I be up here?” I ask, hesitating to move closer.
He takes another drag and blows out a smoke ring. “Them are the rules.”
I study him, curious about his bruises. He no longer has a black eye, but the bruise on his jaw looks worse today than it did when he walked into the music room and asked me to play something for him. “You got into another fight?”
“Nope.” His eyes sharpen on me. “Curious.”
“What’s curious?”
“Never pictured you as a blond.”
My hand flutters up to my head. Shit. My roots are showing. Dealing with it means an unwanted trip to town to buy more hair dye unless I can convince Lydia or Nance to do it for me. They'll want to know why I need hair dye and why I can’t get it myself.
“Want a smoke?” He offers it to me.
I look at it and shake my head. “No, thanks.”
A smirk lifts one side of his mouth. “Because you’re a good girl?”
Yes, because Jeremiah would…
Suddenly angry, I cross over to him, sit on the edge, and take it from him.
He looks briefly surprised, then lets out a snort of laughter when I cough and splutter, choking on the smoke that went down the wrong way.
He takes it back with a laugh. “You trying to prove something to me or you?”
A little of both, I think.
