Page 24 of Arranged Addiction
She lets out a soft whimper as I hug her tightly. I don’t know what she saw yet, but from the amount of blood out here, I’m guessing it’s not good.
“I have you,” I whisper, soothing her the best I can. She’s clearly still in shock. Her face is pale and her skin is blotchy from crying. “Don’t worry, Casey, I’m here with you now.”
“Natalie.” She chokes on the name. “On her bed.”
I slowly release her and stand. Casey stares up at me, lips trembling.
“Stay here. Don’t move.” I move into the bedroom, carefully avoiding the blood puddles. There are some footprints already, probably from Casey, but that’s okay. We’ll sort it all out later.
The girl’s lying on the bed like Casey said. She’s slumped on her back, her arms spread out, almost like she was positioned. I glance around the room and spot signs of a struggle: a knocked-over lamp, a broken glass, a spot on the wall where it looks like someone hit it hard.
Whoever killed Natalie probably didn’t expect her to put up such a struggle.
I don’t touch anything, but I get closer. She’s wearing what looks like pajamas. Which means she likely was killed either last night or this morning. I’d bet she didn’t show up to the office, but I can confirm with her manager later.
One last detail catches my eye. I almost missed it from the other side of the room. It’s a plain piece of paper, folded in half twice, and left on the girl’s chest. It blended in with her gray t-shirt.
Casey’s name is written on top.
I stare around the room like someone’s watching me. Adrenaline slams into my chest. Why the fuck is there a note to Casey left on her friend’s stabbed corpse? I grab it and gingerly place it in mypocket on a whim. I don’t want the police to find that and think she had anything to do with her friend’s death.
I know for a fact she was busy last night and slept at my place until early this morning.
One last detail: the knife looks like it was military surplus. Not the kind of knife a girl like Natalie might have lying around her apartment.
I back away and step into the hall.
“You made the right decision calling me first,” I say, kneeling down beside her again.
“Is she… is she…” She takes a deep breath. “She’s dead, right?”
I’m not the type of man who sugarcoats the truth. I’ve always believed that reality should be faced with strength and dignity.
But, fuck, the way she’s looking at me…
Like she’s broken.
It makes me hesitate. I want to tell her anything else. That it’ll be alright. That we’ll catch who did this. I can talk about justice, about honoring those we’ve lost, about anything else.
Except I am what I am.
“I’m sorry, Casey. She’s dead.”
Her face crumples like a crashed truck and she begins to sob again.
I hold her as she cries. My mind’s whirling through a dozen possibilities, but they all keep coming back to the note in my pocket.
Whoever killed Natalie knew that Casey would eventually end up here.
Which means they know Casey well. They knew her extremely well, since their prediction was correct. I’m starting to wonder if Natalie’s death was about Natalie at all.
Knowing who Casey’s parents were…
But I can’t get ahead of myself. I don’t know what the note says. It could’ve been from the dead girl, but that seems highly unlikely.
There’s not a single drop of blood on the paper.
Once Casey calms down, I take control of the situation. I gently take her shoes off before I get her out of that hallway and away from the blood. I leave the shoes dirty though, since the police will want to see them to confirm where the footsteps came from.
