Page 89 of Haven't Killed in Years
I talked a big game about being a loner, but she was yet another person killed just for being in my life. She was by far the most devastating one yet, but it was hard to wallow in the sorrow of it when all I could think wasHow was this going toend?
Part
Three
Fifty-One
In some ways, Iwas back to square one. It wasn’t Natalie. I had no idea who Wesley was. It’s not like her journal had included a scan of his passport. She never even described any physical attributes I could use.
I threw the journal down on the passenger seat.
I grabbed my phone and searched some combinations ofWesley Reporter,Wesley Editor, et cetera, but I knew it was about as likely he was a proctologist as actually some kind of journalist.
I triedWesley aliasandWesley criminal record, but nothing. I looked at a lot of local Wesleys on social media but didn’t find anything constructive.
I knew my best shot was probably the house. Can you rent anonymously? Or under an alias? Maybe not technically, but it wasn’t like this guy hadn’t gone to great lengths on everything else.
I should have been going full Nancy Drew, but I’d just lain in the blood of my only childhood friend and pulled an all-nighter and the sun was barely up. I couldn’t have one of those montages where Icombed through microfiche at the library or pulled liquor store security camera footage. Nothing was open yet and I didn’t want to be alone.
I started my car.
- - - - -
I punched the entrancecode into the panel—the code she hadn’t hesitated to give me. I pushed the square elevator button,1-2-3-4-5, imploring it to turn green. It was too slow. I gave up, flinging open the door to the stairwell and running up to the third floor.
I banged on her door until it opened.
“Hi.” Elyse stood before me in tiny flannel shorts and a crewneck sweatshirt that hung off her shoulder.
I lunged past her into the apartment. “She’s dead,” I blurted out, no compassion for clearly having woken her up.
Elyse approached me, extending her arms, not to touch me but more like to wrangle in my chaotic energy. When I stopped moving she glanced below my neck, the triangle of my blood-splattered shirt showing above the jacket zipper. She reached slowly toward the zipper and I let her yank it down.
My shirt was undeniably bloody and she inhaled before speaking. “What hap—”
“I found her,” I said, “but she was dead.”
“Who?”
“Nat— Marin Haggerty is dead!” I shouted. “Did you have something to do with this?”
Elyse’s eyes grew and then she took a step back. “What? What happened? I didn’t have anything to do with it.” She was disgusted by the accusation, as if she hadn’t been saying it for weeks.
I explained what had happened as best I could. It made sense to her that someone had killed Natalie, given Elyse thought she wasMarin and someone was out doing kills for Abel’s attention. There was so much I wanted to say, but I didn’t want to push my luck with Elyse. I wasn’t confident that I was coherent enough to juggle all the secrets and lies, and if I let the wrong details slip, it could ruin everything. Or at least the little bit I had left that wasn’t already ruined.
She brought the conversation to an end when she looked me square in the face and said, “I’m sorry I involved you, but I’m glad Marin Haggerty is dead.”
She gave me, Gwen, a fresh towel and a set of clothes to change into. I took a shower while she made me a breakfast cocktail that would help me relax. She took excellent care of Gwen, relieved Marin was dead.
Elyse’s all-white bedding was so clean and sterile it reminded me of my bed at the facility, only hers was much more comfortable—significantly higher thread count, pillow top, an actual box spring. Crawling under the covers, fresh from the shower, swimming in an oversized sweatshirt of hers, it was almost like I could relax for a minute.
She climbed onto the other side of the bed, staying on top of the blankets, allowing me the privacy of being alone underneath. There were a million things we should talk about, but I wanted to enjoy this break as long as I could. I wanted to pretend I was Gwen Tanner.
“Why did you call me so many times last night?” I asked.
“Oh.” She sighed. “Jake and I were fighting.”
“Why?” I rolled onto my side, tucking part of the blanket under my cheek.
