I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I entered the basement apartment. I hesitated in the doorway and checked my phone again, seeing if Ryan had responded. Nothing.
I took a breath and stepped into the space. At least he had the sense to put down a rug, though I was sure it had once been a nice cream color at some point. Two worn, brown-leather loveseats took up the main space, facing a small television. A gaming system sat next to the television, the cord leading from the system wrapped around one controller. None of the furniture matched. It was as if each piece had been a hand-me-down. Or someone’s garbage.
I winced at the thought, chastising myself for even thinking it. Ryan had been nothing but nice to me when my so-called friends had treated me like a pariah. I had no right to judge. His appearance in Chester Bay wasn’t planned well in advance and his brother did what he could to make Ryan comfortable.
I investigated the space, slowly walking to each corner of the room. Furthest from the stairs was a bathroom. I peered inside. Cleaner than I expected.
See, there’s some positivity. I smiled as I headed into the next room.
A queen-sized mattress sat in the corner on the floor. The comforter was bundled in the middle of the bed as if Ryan was about to take it to the washer. I didn’t hold that against him. (Joe never made his bed, claiming that he’d offend his housekeeper if he tried to clean up after himself.)
A computer desk sat opposite the bed next to a dresser that looked as if it were made for a child. The drawers were all open, stuffed to the brim with clothes.
I looked at my phone again and sent another text. Where the hell was he?
An electronic sound on the floor grabbed my attention. The light illuminated the pocket of a pair of jeans. I knelt down and pulled Ryan’s phone from the pocket with my texts displayed on the screen. That explained why he didn’t text me back.
A tingling sensation crept up my arms. I’d be mortified if someone was in my room without me, snooping around. I grabbed the pants and shoved the phone back in the pocket. One of the legs caught on the door and something heavy moved behind it. I placed my hand on the door to keep it in place.
Oh, no.
Ryan was going to find me in here messing with his stuff. I threw the pants on the ground and pressed both hands against the door. Something was pushing back on the other side. I peeked behind it to see what was fighting me. A huge whiteboard and stand were precariously leaning against the door. Letting go of the door, I grabbed the side of the board and held it in place. It was as tall as I was and the stand had moved so the board was teetering on the uneven surface.
“Oh, come on,” I groaned.
I lifted the board enough to kick the stand out of the way and placed it back down. I wiggled it away from the wall to allow enough room for it to lean without falling. I didn’t pay much attention to the writing on the board until I saw a familiar grouping of letters scribbled in thick black marker.
I leaned the board back and read my name. Why was my name written on a board in Ryan’s room?
My throat tightened and my curiosity won. I shoved the door away from the board and propped it right side up against the wall. My heart pounded against my chest and my breathing quickened. At the top of the board was the photo that Mrs. Blair used for Joe’s obituary, except it had a big red X across it. Several pieces of paper were held in place by magnets. Different-colored lines were drawn connecting words, newspaper articles, and documents. My name was written numerous times with Xs and question marks over the threaded lines. My vision blurred and the words jumbled together.
Footsteps pounded down the basement stairs. I jumped back away from the board.
Get out! the rational part of my brain screamed at me.
I shoved the board away from the door and turned, smacking into a damp torso. I pushed away from Ryan and realized I’d been cornered.
He stood in the doorway in a towel, blocking my exit. Droplets of water cascaded from his damp hair, dripping down his face. His eyes were wide and his lips parted. “Cara, I thought you were coming later.”
If anyone was going to be asking questions, it was me.
I pointed at the board. “What is that?”
He held his hands in front of his body. “Cara—”
“No! What is that?”
“What are you doing down here?”
Did this guy not have ears? “Why do you have all of this stuff about Joe in your room?”
Ryan’s jaw worked as he was probably thinking of an excuse that would get him off the hook. I wasn’t sure there was one that would make any of this better for him.
“Answer me!” I screamed. I couldn’t manufacture a scenario in my mind where any of this was normal.
“Okay,” he said. “Can I put my clothes on?”
I stood there, arms crossed, debating if I should run when he moved. Curiosity kept my feet in place and I nodded. I was probably crazy but I had to know what was going on.
I waited in the other room while Ryan dressed more quickly than anyone I’d ever seen. He came into the space, pulling a shirt over his head. He raked his fingers through his damp hair as he checked his phone. He shook his head. “I took a shower upstairs. Mine isn’t working.”
“I don’t care. Stop stalling.”
He sighed and stared at the floor. “I know this seems weird. I never intended for you to find out.”
“That’s not helping your case.”
He sighed. “I was looking into the investigation of Joe’s death.”
“Why all of this?” I asked. “Why do you care about Joe? Did you know him?”
“No,” he said before taking a deep breath. “My half-brother is Phillip Devereaux.”
I cursed. “You said your brother was in finance.”
He chewed on his lip. “I lied.”
“Are you kidding me?” I thought of all the times I was vulnerable around him and he had lied to me. “Are you two working together? Did he—” I gasped, realizing something. “You stalked me to the party and then to my job! You were trying to get more information for him, weren’t you?”
He held up his hands in front of himself. “I wasn’t stalking you. I admit, it was initially why I started talking to you. Normally, I wouldn’t have.”
“What does that mean?”
He threw up his hands. “You’re not exactly approachable for a guy like me. And you can be a . . .”
“A what?” I challenged.
“Never mind. That wasn’t . . . Okay let me start over. When I moved here I was so pissed at Phil for agreeing to take me in. I snooped and went through his files. He makes copies of cases and brings them home. His room is full of them. He made a big deal about how he hates when people go through his stuff.”
“So he didn’t order you to talk to me?”
He snorted. “Phil would never ask for help. Especially from me.”
Detective Devereaux did seem like a lone wolf.
Ryan continued. “Anyway, I came across Joe’s case and was intrigued.”
“Why?”
“Because of you,” he said, voice strained. “I wasn’t lying when I said that summer was memorable for me. I thought it was fate or something.”
“That my boyfriend died?”
“It seems stupid now that you said it out loud.”
“Why all of this secrecy?” I asked. “Why didn’t you tell me from the start?”
“I’m not sure there would be any way to tell you about this. Phil would kick my butt straight home if he found me snooping.”
“Then why do it?”
“My original reasons seem childish now. Then I fell too deep into it.”
“What do you mean?” I said and pointed at the board. “Joe overdosed. Why bother with any of this?”
He paused and I could see his jaw working. A sinking feeling pooled in my stomach. “Why, Ryan?”
“Phil and I share a theory.”
“What theory?”
He scratched a spot on his neck. “I’m not a trained detective but something is off about that night.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you promise to hear me out I’ll tell you.”
“Okay.” There was no way I was leaving now. I had to know what he knew. Especially if Devereaux continued to focus on my involvement with Joe’s death.
He went into his room. I stood in my spot but craned my neck to see what he was doing. With his access to the case file from the police, he might know something I didn’t about Joe. I had to know.
He came out with a stack of papers. They were photocopies of the case file. I wasn’t sure if I could be implicated for anything if I saw them, so I kept my distance.
“Phil’s notes show inconsistencies.”
“Like what?”
“Two things. The amount of Dilaudid in Joe’s system was higher than a normal overdose. And this drug tends to be under lock and key at hospitals. The value is high, since it’s very rare on the streets.”
I’d never kept track of the drugs that Joe used, but he never let money get in his way. “Joe had money.”
“That’s true.”
“So that proves it was an accident.”
Ryan held up a finger for me to listen. “He could have made a mistake in dosage but there are holes in that theory, too.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“The Internet is a good resource if you know where to look.”
I couldn’t believe it. “So you’re saying that someone killed him? On purpose?”
“Only someone with access to a hospital or pharmacy could get this amount.”
“Okay.”
He stared at his hands. “Your mom is a nurse, right?”
“Yes, but—” I met his eyes. He couldn’t— “Wait, does your brother think I had something to do with this?”
“I think he’s exploring all avenues.”
I stood up. My heart leaped into my throat. “This is insane!”
“There’s another thing.”
I whirled on him. “What?” What else could convince his brother that I would have the capacity to murder someone?
“There were fresh marker stains on Joe’s fingers. Phil thinks that Joe wrote something down, a note, maybe, but they were unable to find it at the scene.”
The note!
I had to tread carefully, not wanting to implicate myself. “What do they think he wrote? Would your brother’s theory be wrong if they found whatever Joe wrote down?”
“It’s a possibility,” Ryan said. His eyes narrowed. “Do you know something—”
“I have to go,” I interrupted.
“Wait,” Ryan said, touching my arm.
I whipped away from him. “I need to leave.”
“Cara—”
“Don’t!” I gave him the look that Mom gave Dad when she was angry with him; at least I hoped I did. Either way, from his expression, he got the point.
He snatched his hand away as if my skin burned him. “Please don’t go like this. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head and turned, running for the door.
The muggy air outside clung to my already sweaty skin. I jogged around the house to my car and stopped when I came face to face with Detective Devereaux.
His mouth twisted in a snarl. “What are you doing at my house?”
If I didn’t know he already suspected me, I did now. I stumbled over my words, the only coherent one was, “Ryan.”
He worked the muscles of his jaw.
“I—I didn’t know you were his brother,” I said weakly. That was Ryan’s fault for lying to me.
“You need to stay away from Ryan,” he said. “He’s already in enough trouble.”
“What is your problem with me?” I asked.
“You’re a part of my investigation and you’re at my house. I don’t mix my personal life with my work life.”
“I didn’t come here for you—”
“Ryan is under my care. This is final. Goodbye, Ms. Daniels.”
I gritted my teeth, feeling two inches tall. I whirled around and didn’t stop until I reached my car. I got in and slammed the door. I took one last look at the house, and the detective was still staring at me from the yard.
If I didn’t already have a problem, I did now.