Page 91 of Forever Never
“Don’t use your scary trial lawyer voice on me, Kyle Olson. I held your leg while you did keg stands at your law school graduation party.”
The background noise on his end was getting louder. “You swear this is fictional?” he pressed.
“Cross my heart,” she lied.
“Then the good guy would need to either find evidence that the bad guy committed the crime, or he’d need to find evidence of another crime the bad guy committed.”
Remi stopped pacing. “You’re saying a bad guy doesn’t usually just commit one crime.”
“There’s almost always a pattern,” he said. “Shit. Listen, I gotta go. Call me later.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Sure,” she said and hung up.
25
On a dissatisfied groan, Remi stared down at the half dozen sheets of watercolor projects she’d started and abandoned.
After an entire day of relentless internet searches, social media snooping, and meticulously documenting every insignificant find she’d marched over to Brick’s house in the dark to clear her head and try her hand—ha—at some painting. But it wasn’t what she craved. The colors were all wrong. The layering was impossible. She needed the texture and color she was used to.
Throwing down her brush, she rolled out her shoulders. Sitting and slumping over a work table wasn’t exactly her speed either. Especially not after an eternity spent hunched over a laptop.
She got up and tossed her supplies in the sink, watching as the colors melded, turning into a dark, ugly purple before swirling down the drain.
A distraction. That’s what she needed. Something to keep her from obsessively checking her phone for a message from Camille. Something to get her mind off her friend trapped in a house with a monster.
She wasn’t going to find that here. She could tell by the flicker of light on the door that the TV in the living room was on. Brick was on call tonight, so he was probably polishing his uniform boots or something equally anal.
Family, she decided. Family was fun.
Digging her phone out, she checked the time. 10 p.m.
Her niece and nephew would be in bed, but Kimber was a notorious night owl. Surely her sister would enjoy some company?
They still hadn’t really talked since she’d come home. She’d been remiss in her sisterly duties. Kimber was obviously going through something, and maybe this was the opportunity Remi could get her to open up about it.
The best way to forget about her own problems was to immerse herself in the problems of others.
She left the brushes to dry on the bathroom vanity, shut off the lights, and bundled herself out the door into the backyard.
The night sky was crystal clear, lit by a half moon and millions of pinpoints of light. She already felt better about her idea. She’d pry it out of Kimber, and they could figure it out together. Reclaim the connection they seemed to have misplaced.
She tiptoed up the street past her parents’ house. Old habits died hard. At least she didn’t have to shimmy up the trellis this time.
Her sister’s place, an adorable bungalow in daffodil yellow, was just one block down on the opposite side of the street.
It was the place her sister had dreamed of owning since she was a little girl. Remi was so proud the day Kimber and Kyle signed the papers she’d sent them a Welcome Home mat for the little front porch and demanded a picture of it as soon as it was in place.
Her dad had snapped a picture of Kyle carrying her sister over the threshold like a bride. One foot on the mat and one foot in the door.
She stepped up onto the porch and found the mat was still there.
Welcome Home.
It was worn now. Frayed around the edges. Some of the letters were fading under the abuse of sidewalk salt.
But it was still there.
She was about to knock when she heard a noise from around back. It sounded like the back door opening and closing.
