A Flicker in the Dark(88)

“Yeah.” I nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“So you’ll go to the police tomorrow?”

“Aaron, they won’t believe me. I’m telling you. I’ve been starting to think—” I hesitate, turn to the side, so I’m facing him. He’s still staring at the ceiling, a silhouette in the dark. “I’ve been starting to wonder if maybe I need to go see him. My father.”

He sits up, leans his bare back against the headboard. His head swivels to face mine.

“I’m just starting to think that maybe he’s the only one with answers,” I continue. “Maybe he’s the only one that can help me understand—”

“That’s dangerous, Chloe.”

“How is it dangerous? He’s in prison, Aaron. He can’t hurt me.”

“Yes, he can. He can still hurt you from behind bars. Maybe not physically, but…”

He stops, runs his hands over his face.

“Sleep on it,” he says. “Promise me you’ll sleep on it? We can decide tomorrow. And if you want me to go with you, I will. I’ll talk to him with you.”

“Okay,” I say at last. “Okay, I will.”

“Good.”

He flings his legs out of bed, leaning over to grab his jeans from the floor. I watch as he shimmies them on and walks into the bathroom, flipping on the light. I shut my eyes, hearing the squeak of the faucet, the rush of running water. When I open them, he’s walking back into the bedroom again, a glass of water in his hand.

“I have to go for a while,” he says, pushing it in my direction. I grab it and take a sip. “My editor hasn’t heard from me all day. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” I say, rolling back onto my pillow. I watch as Aaron looks down, his eyes landing on something on the floor. He leans over and picks up my Xanax bottle, still resting at the top of my bag.

“Do you want one of these? To help you fall asleep?”

I stare at the bottle, the collection of pills inside. Aaron shakes them gently, his eyebrows lifting, and I nod, extend my hand.

“Would you judge me if I took two?”

“No.” He smiles, opening the cap and dumping two in my palm. “You’ve had a hell of a day.”

I inspect the pills in my palm and toss them back, swallowing them down with the water, feeling each one tear down my esophagus like jagged nails trying to claw their way back up.

“I can’t help but feel responsible,” I say, leaning my head against the headboard. I’m thinking of Lena. Of Aubrey. Of Lacey. Of all the girls whose deaths are on my conscience. Of all the girls I have inadvertently lured into the hands of a monster—first, my father. And now, Daniel.

“You’re not responsible,” Aaron says, sitting on the edge of the bed. He lifts his hand and brushes it through my hair. The room starts to spin gently, my eyelids begin to droop. When I close my eyes, an image from my dream flashes into my mind—me, standing beneath my childhood window, holding a shovel covered in blood.

“It’s my fault,” I say, my words slurred. I can still feel Aaron’s hands, warm on my forehead. “All of it, my fault.”

“Get some sleep,” I hear him say, almost like an echo. He leans down to kiss my forehead, his lips sticking to my skin. “I’ll lock the door behind me.”

I nod once before feeling myself drift away.





CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE




I wake up to the sound of my phone vibrating on the bedside table, shaking violently across the wood until it tips over the side and clatters to the floor. I open my eyes, groggy, and squint at the alarm clock.

It’s ten p.m.

I try to open my eyes wider but my vision is bleary, my head pounding. I think back to my trip to Daniel’s home—his mother in that dilapidated old shack, the newspaper clipping stuck between the pages of that book. Suddenly, I feel nauseated, and I drag myself from the bed and run into the bathroom, throwing open the toilet seat before heaving into the bowl. Nothing comes up but bile, acid yellow and burning my tongue. A skinny string of spit dangles from the back of my throat, making me gag. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and walk into the bedroom, perching on the edge of the bed. I reach for the glass of water on the table, but I see that it’s on its side, the water dripping from the rim and onto the carpet. My phone must have knocked it over. Instead, I reach down and grab my phone, pressing the side to illuminate the screen.

There are a few missed calls from Aaron, some messages checking in. In an instant, I remember the feeling of his body on top of mine. His hands on my wrists, his lips on my neck. That was a mistake, what we did, but I’ll have to deal with that later. I have to scroll to get through the rest of the missed calls and text messages—mostly, they’re from Shannon, with a few from Daniel thrown in. How do I have this many missed calls? I wonder. It’s only ten o’clock—I’ve been asleep for four hours, tops. Then I notice the date on the screen.

It’s ten p.m. on Friday.

I’ve been asleep for an entire day.

I unlock my phone and look at my text messages, alarm starting to creep in as I skim each one.

Chloe, call me please. This is important.

Chloe, where are you?

Chloe, call me NOW.