Page 101 of Ominous: Part 1
There’s a pause, and I fill it. “Did you?”
He turns to look at me, and this time, leaning against his arm, I meet his gaze, tipping my chin up. “No.”
“Then…”
“Her dress was in the yard, between the house and the lake.”
I hold my breath, waiting.
“But they didn’t find her. They dragged the entire lake. There were so many cops there, in minutes, it seemed like. Dogs too.” He shrugs. “There was nothing. They spread out. Checked all her recent messages. Nothing.” He’s still staring into my eyes, as if he’s daring me.Ask it. Come closer. Do you want to know the truth?
Did you do it? Do you know who did?“Why don’t they believe you? Why did they question you again?”
“I told you,” he says, his voice edged with bitterness. “They probably don’t think they’re looking for a person anymore.” He doesn’t once look away. “They’re looking for a corpse.”
I don’t let those words unnerve me. He skipped a question. “So,why don’t they believe you?”I enunciate each word slowly.
I swear the slightest smile pulls at his lips. But he glances at where the waterfall spills into the pool, like he’s tracking the path.
My stomach flips.
“No one said they didn’t believe me, Eden. But new investigation, more questions, right?” His tone is even, but a chill runs under my skin. I can’t tell if he’s lying.
I sit up straighter, and he turns to look at me. “Did you sleep with her? That night?”
A smile curves his lips. “So, so jealous.”
I narrow my eyes, but I don’t speak.
The word is soft, almost innocent, leaving his mouth. “No.”
I feel relief warm my chest, but I’m not done with the questions. “Did you do it?”
All he said was he didn’t know where she was at the time Dominic was looking for her. It could be a lie by omission. It could be an outright lie. But even if it’s the truth, it doesn’t absolve him completely because he never said he didn’t.
Despite the heat, the way my body has adjusted to the temperature of the pool, I grow cold with his silence.
I feel his fingers press hard into my skin.
I don’t dare move.
“I told you.” He narrows his eyes. “I’m not a fucking murderer.”
* * *
“I’m really good at it.”
I rub my thumb over the little rectangular screen of the stopwatch, the black cord damp and curled over my wrist. “How good?”
Eli smiles, smoothing his hair back from his face, water dripping down the sharp planes of his cheekbones, over the tip of his nose. “You’ll see.” He inhales, his chest expanding, and I see one of the faded yellow bruises move with the breath, but I shake my head, holding out a hand to stop him from going under.
“Wait, wait.” My tongue feels heavy, my words a little slurred, and I know Eli feels the same. We had more drinks, and his eyes are glassy and red, he’s gone through several more joints. We haven’t eaten a thing, even though Eli has asked if I want food.
I don’t though.
I want to stay right here, soaking up every ounce of his undivided attention.
“How long? A minute? Two? No more than that, right?”
