“I hated church,” she said. And, by the silence that followed and the fact that she didn’t rip open the closet door, I realized she was talking to herself, or, more specifically, the “spirit” of Joe. “But I do believe that you’re still with me.”
She placed a hand on the bed and smoothed her fingers across it. My eyes went to the nightstand and I held my breath. She was feet from it. She’d know someone messed with Joe’s things and the suspicions that made her come into the pool house would be confirmed.
She sat on the bedside and looked at her hands clasped in her lap, then her head tilted in the direction of the nightstand.
I squeezed Ryan’s hand, trying to send him a telepathic message that we were utterly screwed. He was silent by my side but he lightly squeezed back.
Kat jumped up from the bed and moved to the nightstand. Her shoulders tensed and, with her finger, she pushed a cigarette across its surface. She whirled around and, for a split second, I thought she could see us in the closet. I imagined her discovering us there. My mind scrambled for some excuse. I couldn’t even think of a plausible reason for being there. I hoped Ryan would be able to get away before she wrapped her tiny hands around my throat and squeezed the life out of me.
Instead, she let out a little whimper and fled from the room, her bare feet slapping against the tile floor. The door to the pool house slammed behind her.
As if the sound of the door were a starting pistol, I pushed out of the closet and went to the nightstand, shoving everything back into the drawer, except for the matchbook.
Ryan came to my side. “What’re you doing?”
“She knows someone was here. We have to go now!”
He ran into the other room and, once I finished, I turned around, making sure nothing else was out of place. I closed the closet doors as they had been when I’d come in and hoped that I didn’t forget anything else.
In the other room, Ryan turned away from the computer desk and we exited the way we’d come in. Ryan closed the door behind us and wiped his shirt over the handle.
Fingerprints! What if Kat alerted someone that she thought someone had broken in? Would there be a formal investigation? We were so screwed.
All I could think about was getting as far away from the Blair estate as possible. Ryan reached the fence first, and he was ready for me when I caught up. He helped me over and then followed quickly behind.
We bolted for my car, which was parked further down the road. It seemed like miles away and I could swear I heard sirens in the distance. My imagination ran wild as my legs and arms pumped, gaining distance from the crime we’d committed.
Ryan jumped into the driver’s seat and I fell into the passenger’s side, slumping down low enough to not be seen. I doubted anyone was watching us, but my paranoia level had skyrocketed.
“Go, go, go!” I urged him.
“I’m going.” The car pulled into the street.
Every few seconds I turned around to make sure we weren’t being followed. We were almost to Ryan’s house before I was able to breathe properly.
I couldn’t stop the manic laugh from bursting through my lips. We did it. We were nearly caught, but we did it. And we hadn’t come home empty-handed.
Ryan parked my car outside Devereaux house. I showed him the matchbook and he, too, felt it was a solid lead.
“At least we got something,” he said. “I want to go back into the email account and see if I can find out anything else. If that’s okay with you.”
I flipped the matchbook over in my hands. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“We’re in on this together. We should both agree on these steps together.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I should get inside,” he said, opening the car door.
I got out, too, and we met by the driver’s side.
He lingered, blocking the door from me. “Despite the almost-getting-caught thing, I actually had fun tonight. It was a near-heart-attack experience, but it was exciting, you know?”
“I do.” And I really did. The thrill of almost getting caught had melted into a serene feeling that washed over me, relaxing me. It seemed like an odd reaction, but I didn’t question it.
“Maybe for our next outing, we can do something really boring, to balance it out.”
I laughed. “Sounds good.”
His fingers lingered on my arm and squeezed. “Good night.”
“Good night,” I said.
He shifted on his heels and walked toward the house.
I sat in the car and closed the door, the silence enveloping me. I rolled down the window, allowing the sounds of cicadas to break through the thick silence.
Headlights bathed my car in a bright white light. I shielded my face and watched a car pull into the Devereaux driveway.
My body snapped into action. My clammy hands gripped the shifter and I put the car into gear and started down the street.
In the rearview mirror, Detective Devereaux ran into the road and watched me drive away. His expression was unreadable at that distance, but his commanding stance informed me that I had been caught.