“Cassidy. I’m glad you called. I’m assuming Nick told you I’ll be staying with your Aunt Carol for a while?”
She sounds almost…normal. “He did. I’d like you to stay with us. It’s safer.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “I can’t,” she says at last. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I love you, but I need some time.”
Time? Time for what? What is she sorry for? “I don’t understand.”
Another stretch of silence, and her meaning penetrates. She needs time away from me. Her daughter.
The ice surges and spreads, swallowing me whole. “You’ll call when you get to Aunt Carol’s?”
“I will. I’ll call you every day at four too. It’s only for a couple of weeks, Cass. When I get back, we’ll have a long talk about what to do.” After a slight hesitation, she tells me she loves me and hangs up.
I give Nick his phone and pick up the spoon to poke at the meat.
“Everything all right?”
“Fine. She’s going to check in daily until she comes back. Are the peppers ready?” Everything is not fine.
Unfortunately, this is one thing Isaiah’s death won’t fix.
Chapter 4
I’ve lost track of the minutes and hours I’ve sat here staring at the house across the street. The binoculars remain clutched in my hands, though they’re mostly useless at this point. No one’s moving. If it weren’t for the lights in the upstairs and downstairs windows, I’d assume everyone is asleep. They very well could be.
There’s a smug sort of comfort in thinking I’ve scared Isaiah into sleeping with the lights on.
The quiet is broken up by the clicking of Nick’s keyboard and his occasional muttered responses to Constantine’s questions, something about the app launch that isn’t ready. After the virus breach a few weeks ago, they had to push back the launch. From the snatches of conversation I’ve heard, it’ll take a miracle to make the new date. He should be at work, or at least not here, but he refused to leave me alone. So he’s glued to his laptop, Bluetooth fastened to his ear, as he tries to be two places at once.
“You don’t have to be here. I’m not going to do anything tonight.” The empty house, courtesy of Constantine, is a blessing. I have a clear view of the street and the front door of Isaiah’s current hidey-hole. A few nights of surveillance, and I’ll hopefully have the information I need to finish the job.
“You’ll understand if I don’t trust you to stay put.” Nick continues typing.
I stand and stretch my arms over my head, my gaze never leaving the street. I’d forgotten how quiet suburbia could be at night. I glance at my phone. Barely eleven o’clock, and no one is stirring. It’s strangely bright outside, though. It’s the sort of neighborhood where people leave their porch lights on at night, and there are streetlights every hundred feet or so.
The last person to enter the house was Tris. He’s easily identifiable, even in the dark. It’s his walk. He’s got this way of walking that demands you watch him. Coupled with his height and muscular build, there’s no mistaking the big, burly SWAT officer.
Nick joins me at the window. “Go take a break for a few minutes. I’ll tell you if anything changes.”
I’d argue, but my legs are stiff from sitting still. I pick up my water bottle and wind my way through the darkened living room to the kitchen in the back. Something makes a soft click, followed by a shuffle, and I stop and press myself to the short wall dividing the kitchen from the living room.
More shuffling like muffled footsteps.
Someone else is in the house.
My first thought is the owners. Supposedly they’re on vacation and will be for a couple more days. Constantine could have been wrong, or he could have lied, though the house was empty when we arrived. We went through the rooms one by one before setting up in the living room.
I bend over and set my water bottle on the floor, then withdraw the knife from the sheath strapped to my ankle. Squinting into the shadows, I inch toward the corner, grip loose, hand steady, mind blank.
Those are definitely footsteps. And they’re getting closer.
A set of cabinets at the entrance to the kitchen blocks my view into the main part of the room, which means I have two choices: I can round the corner and confront the intruder, or I can wait for him to come to me and surprise him.
The first option isn’t really an option at all. Who would willingly want to confront a potentially violent intruder?
I soften my knees and exhale quietly as the footsteps pause near the edge of the cabinets. The intruder steps forward, and I slip behind him. I whip my hand toward his neck, blade poised to sink into his throat.
He shoots out a hand and catches my wrist before I can make contact. “Careful there. Can’t get blood on the floor.” Constantine keeps his fingers locked around my wrist, gently pushing it down. “Dom around?”
“Living room, watching the street.” He still hasn’t let go. I flex my hand around the knife handle. “Wasn’t aware you’d be joining us.”
“Last-minute decision.” He drops my hand and steps around me. “Anything happening?”
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle in awareness. I squint at him, trying to make out his face in the shadows. “Street’s been dead for at least an hour. All the lights are on, and no one’s come or gone in a while, unless they’re sneaking in through the back.” The timing’s off. Nick just hung up with Constantine. Their office is over a half hour away, and Constantine’s condo is even farther. “How’d you get here so quickly?”
“Multitasking,” he murmurs. “Put the knife away, Cass. You won’t need it tonight.” He walks into the dark, leaving me frowning after him.
For Constantine to get here as fast as he did, he would have had to be in his car, on his way here, while he was talking through the latest bugs with Nick. Unless he’s got some sort of encyclopedic brain, he couldn’t have had all that information at his fingertips.
The puzzle threatens to distract me from the task at hand. Pushing my doubts into a box to examine later, I replace my knife, pick up my water, and continue into the kitchen.
I skirt the dim pool of light spilling onto the floor from the light over the stove and lean on the countertop. Something scuttles across the backyard, dashing toward a small tree in the far corner. Probably a neighborhood cat or a raccoon.
The low murmurs of Nick and Constantine’s conversation drift toward me, bringing Constantine’s odd appearance to the forefront. I tiptoe across the kitchen and edge around the cabinets, straining to hear.
A trickle of guilt that I’m eavesdropping on my boyfriend and a man I’ve come to consider a friend tries to worm its way through. I ignore it. Constantine’s behavior in the last five minutes triggered my instincts, and the only way to soothe them is to find out what they’re talking about.
“I get it, Dom. I do—”
“Do you? Because it sure as fuck doesn’t sound like it.”
An argument. Awesome. This is just what tonight needs. I let out a shallow breath.
“Cass isn’t present. Not completely. I don’t want to stop her because she’s taking care of our problem. But I’m going to be there to keep her from derailing completely.” The quiet determination in Nick’s voice has a thick thread of steel. I curve my lips in a smile. This is why I love him. He might not like my methods, might not agree or approve, but he knows I need this, and he’ll give it to me.
How many people can say that