Page 91 of Haven't Killed in Years
Where was the spiraling panic from having no control—the thing that had driven me to do so many stupid things? Instead, it felt like nothing I could do would matter. This was new. Was this worse?
I wasn’t a detective. I just thought I was smart because of a bunch of ardent slogans my psycho father had brainwashed me with. I was happy to have been on the journey, realizing I could be something other than my father’s daughter, but I did miss thinking it gave me some kind of advantage over other people.
I still had the house lead, but it seemed like a lot of work to find out that he had rented it using the same dumb fake name. He would have needed ID though.
I sat up.
Despite being almost thirty, I knew someone who made fake IDs. The birthday boy—John.
Fifty-Two
I went to the guys’apartment, but I found no John. There were only two guys there and I couldn’t have told you their names for any amount of money. One of them gave me John’s number, but he wasn’t answering. That seemed bad. If John had made someone a Wesley ID and that person knew I had talked to Natalie, poor John might have become too much of a loose end. At least he wouldn’t have been murdered because of his relationship to me. Just more of an old-fashioned cleanup job. RIP, John. Maybe.
If I couldn’t find the person who made fake IDs, I wanted to find the person who’d told me about John’s talent in the first place. The problem was, he wasn’t answering any of my texts. He hadn’t been for days. I started to hope it was because he was Wesley and not because he was another loose end that had to be dealt with.
I didn’t think I could handle him being dead.
- - - - -
Dominic’s apartment didn’t havea fancy buzzer like Elyse’s or an annoying carpet that prevented the front door from closing likemine. It relied on the old-fashioned system of texting the person you were there to see and waiting for them to come down. That wasn’t going to work for me since Dominic wouldn’t answer any of my texts.
With the lack of a better plan, I knocked on the front door. I waited for reactionary sounds, a floorboard creaking or a chair skidding, but there was nothing. I took a step back from the door to look up at the second-floor windows. The two I could see were both open, letting the breeze pass through the screens. If Dominic was actually inside, he was being still and silent, and that wasn’t a good sign.
Was I really going to climb on the trash can and break in again? I jogged back down the porch steps and drifted toward the narrow path along the side of the house.
“Can I help you?” A voice met my back and I combo jumped and spun around.
“Hey. Hi. Hey,” I said as the best defense of my actions.
I realized who it was right away. “Kevin, right?”
“Yeah,” he said, still confused by who I was and what I was doing.
“Sorry,” I said, moving closer and getting some distance from my suspicious positioning in the path. “I’m Gwen, Dominic’s friend.”
His posture relaxed immediately. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.” Kevin looked nothing like Dominic or Jake or even Megan for that matter. He was fit and clean-cut, with well-fitting khaki pants and a tucked-in shirt. He was more like a Brian, and in a different context, I would have been open to grabbing a meaningless two to three drinks with him.
“Is he home?” I asked.
“I don’t think so.” He glanced up toward the open windows. “I got back a couple nights ago and haven’t seen him.”
“Is that normal?”
He shrugged. “Sure. I mean, he goes to visit Barbara sometimes.”
“Can you try calling him?” I asked.
“Why?”
“I forgot my phone and I’m trying to get ahold of him.” I prayed I wasn’t about to have one of those sitcom moments where my phone beeps in my pocket the moment I lie about not having it with me.
Kevin took his phone out and tapped the screen a few times before holding it up to his ear.
While it rang, he stared at me. Too closely for my liking.
He took the phone from his ear. “Didn’t answer.”
I rubbed my hand across my forehead. Dominic of all people should know that I would be assuming the worst if he wasn’t responding to anyone.
