One of Those Faces (27)

“I—”

“I mean, this last one was just right across the street from you. So, again, is there anyone that would be trying to target you?”

I shrugged. “No.”

He uncrossed his arms. “I’m not trying to scare you or anything,” he said.

Could’ve fooled me. I held his gaze. “You didn’t.”

He chuckled. “Good. Keep an eye out, then, and let me know if you remember anything.” He pulled out a business card.

“I already have one,” I muttered.

He flicked the edge of the card with his index finger before returning it to his pocket. “Right. Well, be careful.” He pointed to my hand. “And enjoy your tacos, I guess.”

I thought about the blocked calls, about Holly, as I watched him go back down my street. There was a nagging response in my mind to Wilder’s question about whether anyone would target me specifically.

He might.





CHAPTER ELEVEN


I rubbed at my heavy eyes all throughout teaching the class how to paint an obnoxiously neon boom box for the ’80s-themed night. This particular class was made up of mostly middle-aged women having a night out along with a smattering of college kids who definitely weren’t alive in the ’80s.

Erin appeared at my side as I made the rounds. I couldn’t even try to smile at everyone as I talked. “Are you okay?” she whispered. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” I scowled.

“Couldn’t sleep again?” She followed me back up to the front of the classroom. “Because of that book thingy?”

I was waiting on feedback on the latest illustrations. “No.”

I turned to the class, attempting to drown out their booming voices. “Spray the finishing coat on your paintings, and you’re all ready to go. I’ve enjoyed having you. Come find me if you have any questions.” I looked at Erin. “I’m fine,” I told her as everyone started gathering their items. “Just stressed out.”

“Well, to be perfectly honest,” she started with a scandalous grin, “I haven’t been getting much sleep either. Jeremy and I have been seeing a lot of each other.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize that was still going on. What about—”

Her smile flickered. “That was a misunderstanding. We worked it out. I mean, we’re not exclusive or anything, but we’re going out again.”

I gritted my teeth to refrain from rolling my eyes. There were heavier things on my mind other than Erin’s love life. “Hey, have you seen that story in the news about the girl who got killed on my street?”

She cast a glance at a couple of women leaving. “Not since it first broke, why?”

I shook my head. “No reason.” I reached for my paintbrushes, but Erin snatched them away from me.

“It’s okay,” she said, waving a hand at me. “I’ll clean everything up. You should go get some sleep.”

I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Okay, thanks.” Without another word to her, I pushed past the lingering women and went into the parking lot.

“Hey!”

I jumped, turning toward the voice. Iann closed his car door and strode over to me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He stood beside me, hands in his pockets. Did I make him uncomfortable? I wanted to bother him, to make him feel something when he saw me.

He glanced toward the studio. “Jeremy left his painting behind last time, and I happened to be in the area, so I came to pick it up for him,” he said, gesturing to the shop.

“She’s about to close up,” I said as another few people left through the front door. “Can you give me a ride home?”

His eyes widened, and he nodded. “Yeah, of course. Do you want to just wait in the car while I get the painting?”

“Yeah.” I opened the passenger door and watched through the glass window as he walked up to Erin. Was I imagining the familiarity between them? Iann reached into his coat pocket and handed something to Erin, although I couldn’t make out what from that distance. She smiled and put a hand on his shoulder before giving him the painting over the counter. I wished it had been a lie, a ruse to see me after work. Then again, why wouldn’t Jeremy want to pick it up himself? Maybe Iann did want to see me.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

Unknown caller.

I closed my eyes and felt the pressure on my lungs, the same sensation from my nightmares. The crushing water filled my mouth, and I could taste the icy pulp of lake scum again.

I rejected the call and leaned my head back against the seat.

The car door opened, and Iann climbed into the seat beside me. “Okay, all set.” He buckled his seat belt after a second of observing me in the dark. “Are you all right?”

My phone buzzed again. This time with a voice mail notification. I deleted it right away. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “So why were you in this part of town?”

He turned the key, and the engine roared to life. “I worked at the bar this afternoon. I just got off.” I could see his black button-up under his jacket, the collar flipped up on one side.

I stared into my reflection in the window, the streetlights passing orbs across my image. I didn’t see me. I saw Sarah. And Holly. And, of course, Issi.