Tremble (Denazen #3)(21)
We were on the way to the elevator and were up and out the top front door no more than five minutes after Alex woke me up. It was going on two-thirty in the morning, and thankfully, the roads were empty. Unfortunately, a new, thin layer of snow had fallen in the last few hours, making travel a little slower than expected. The salt trucks hadn’t been through yet, and the car kept slipping and skipping all over the road. Alex refused to drive, so I took the wheel as he sat in the passenger’s seat looking pale. I was so focused on keeping the car steady on the road that I almost missed the exit.
A half block away, I tucked Alex’s recently refurbished Chevy behind an old rusting Volkswagen van and we hoofed it the rest of the way. I’d rushed, not bothering with socks, and the snow had started to seep through my sneakers, numbing my toes. By the time we got to Ashley’s, I was convinced I had frostbite.
Alex handed me the keys, then rubbed his hands together. “Keep the car running. I’ll be right back.”
He turned toward Ashley’s and I grabbed his arm. “Um, excuse me?”
“Dez, we have no idea what we’re walking into. And think about it. You were kind of a bitch yesterday. If Ashley’s scared, do you really think your face is the one she needs to see right now?”
Wow. Ouch times ten. I took the keys from him and nodded like a good little girl. Not that I had any intention of letting him walk in there on his own, but if he needed to think himself the big bad savior, I could give him that.
I counted to twenty once he’d disappeared around the bushes, then approached the front of the house with caution, keeping my eyes peeled for any signs of Denazen. The neighborhood was quiet, the soft sounds of light snow falling like miniature footsteps all around. I moved forward, alert and ready for danger. The front door was ajar, making me wonder if Alex had walked right in and left it that way or someone else had.
A little voice inside my head told me to turn around. Run to the car and don’t look back. I couldn’t do it, of course, but I was human, and despite what Mom might think, I did have some small sense of self-preservation. But Alex was in here somewhere, and Ashley needed help. There was a good chance none of us would be in this position had I just approached things differently the first time we’d been here.
I pushed through the open door, cringing when it creaked, and froze. The living room looked the same as it had earlier, shadows of the couch and lounge chair casting oddly shaped figures on the wall. With each step I took, the feeling of dread in my chest grew heavier and heavier.
“Ashley?” I dared to whisper, but I got no response. “Alex?”
Through the living room and into the hall, I stopped at the base of the stairs and held my breath to listen for movement. Other than the falling snow—now pounding against the tin awning outside—everything was still.
I took the stairs, hesitantly stepping down on each one. If there was a creaky board within a thousand miles, inevitably my foot would find it. Sure enough, halfway to the top, I hit one that let out a squeal and caused my heart to skip several beats. I waited, but no one came rushing, so I continued.
At the top of the stairs, there was a long hall with three rooms to the right and one to the left. Left first. Process of elimination. That would be Kale’s logic. Start with the smaller side and rule it out. I opened the door to find a bathroom—empty—and began moving carefully in the other direction.
The first was the master bedroom. The lamp on the nightstand was on, casting a soft glow through the empty room. The bed was still neatly made with a light blue bathrobe folded at the foot. Next looked like a computer room. There was a large flat-screen monitor mounted to the wall above a cherry wood desk, with the keyboard on the surface below. Plush carpet. Uncomfortable-looking desk chair. Half-full bookshelves. No Ashley. No Alex.
The next room was hers. I had no doubt. Other than the multiple easels and painting supplies strewn about, the fact that it looked like a tornado hit the room was a dead giveaway.
The mattress was turned over and leaning on its side up against the wall, the sheets in a tangled pile at its base. I stepped up and picked the pillow off the floor. Tossing it on the dresser—the only thing still upright—I started to turn, but froze when I noticed a shadow fall across the floor.
“I told them you wouldn’t come alone. Yet here you are,” Kale’s dark voice said from the doorway. “You’re an odd one.”
“You don’t realize it, but coming from you, that’s kinda funny,” I said, swallowing hard and turning to face him. The light from the hall lit the entire right side of his face, leaving the left cloaked in darkness. Two sides of the same dangerous coin. I wanted to back away but resisted, meeting his gaze straight on. My Kale was in there somewhere—and he could sense weakness. “And who says I came alone?”
“You’re alone now,” he said, taking another step closer. At his side, the fingers of his right hand tapped against his leg. One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three.
“Did you kill her?”
“She’s dead.”
“I figured as much,” I said, jaw tense. Another step closer. “But I’m asking if you did it.”
He cocked his head to the left and I could see his expression. Confusion. “You asked the same thing about the other girl. Why does it matter?”
“Because it does. It matters to you, too. You just don’t remember.”