One of Those Faces (96)

I squeezed the coat, balling it into my fists, my shoulders shaking with fury. Those years of torment at his hands were not far enough away. I couldn’t forgive him for leaving me to continue suffering alone. A true orphan. A faceless, blank human standing on my own.

I thought about Jenny, lying alone like that.

It should’ve been you.



I awoke, cold on the floor, in complete darkness. My eyelids clung together from tears that had dried in my sleep. I slowly sat up, glancing over the shadows in the room. It was dark outside. How many hours had I slept?

I glanced at my phone. The battery was low. I had a missed call from Iann and eight from Wilder. No voice mails from either. The number of calls from Wilder sent my heart racing again. I picked up the red note from Jenny’s apartment that I had discarded on the floor. My first mistake was taking anything from her. My second and worst mistake was not calling Wilder. Would he have believed me? I considered how bad it all looked—my obsession with Jenny, the breaking in, the note.

A strange clatter sounded outside the bedroom window. I looked outside, but it was black. I slowly lay flat on the floor and pushed myself underneath the bed, my phone still in tow.

I stayed there in crushing silence for a long time. I started to relax, staring at the hexagon pattern on the box spring above, and began drifting off again.

A bang jolted me alert. A shuffle as two booted feet appeared under the window and inside the room. My body froze.

You’re dreaming. This isn’t happening.

The boots were still by the window. After a few more moments of stillness, they lumbered across the room toward the closet. The doors swung open with a squeak of the hinge. Next, the bedroom door opened.

I carefully tilted my head to the side and peered underneath the bed frame into the room. The shadow of the man stood at the door, staring into the hallway before disappearing behind the door. I couldn’t make out any features other than wide-set shoulders.

My mind raced.

Who is that?

Who would even know you were here?

Stay or run?

The thud of footsteps sounded distant, maybe in the kitchen.

My pulse quickened when I spotted my bag on the other side of the bookcase. Maybe I had enough time to grab it and drop from the window before the man returned. I listened for the sound of boots, but it was silent. Was the person on the other side doing the same thing? Were they listening for me?

The steps jogged back into the bedroom and paused in the doorway. The feet were angled toward the bookcase. I silently cursed myself and closed my eyes again, trying to keep my breathing quiet. With my eyes still closed, I heard the footsteps rapidly approach, and a creak of the floorboards sounded nearby.

A hand pulled my arm. I cried out as I was dragged from under the bed. I was staring up at the figure suddenly, my eyes focusing on the familiar wide gray eyes. “Hey, it’s me,” Wilder barked. “Calm down, okay?” He released his grip on my shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” My body was still trembling.

“That other girl you told me about.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I think we found her body today.” He stared at me through the dark. “Did you know?”

I shook my head and wiped the sweat from my forehead. There was pressure on my shoulders as he pushed me forward into his chest and wrapped his arms around me.

“Then why are you here? When I couldn’t find you at your apartment, I figured you found out and got spooked and came here.” He glanced around. “God knows why. Surely this place is worse than anything waiting for you in the city.” His hand traced down my back. “I promised you you’d be fine,” he said quietly.

He had promised that. But yet another girl was dead now.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” He got to his feet and extended a hand toward me. He handed my bag to me and started back toward the window. While his back was turned, I grabbed the note from the floor and put it in the bottom of my bag.

“I guess this is the only way out without leaving the front door unlocked when we leave, right?” he asked, peering out the window.

I shrugged.

“Come here. I’ll help you out.” He took my waist and lifted me onto the windowsill. He kept his face close beside mine until I turned away to look down and out the window. His hands twisted around mine as he lowered me to the other side of the window onto the grass.

I stared ahead at the chain-link fence.

He appeared beside me. “Okay, let’s go.”

I passed through the gate first, the pit of my stomach somersaulting. The image of Jenny staring up at me burned into my eyelids as I blinked.

“Are you okay?” he asked, closing the gate behind him.

I nodded and started toward his Charger. He held the door open for me and softly closed it.

He started the car. “Harper, tell me what really happened.” His tone was deep but firm.

He knows what you did.

I rolled down the window. It was hard to breathe. “Can you take me back to the train station?” I asked as we exited the neighborhood.

“No, I’ll drop you at home.”

I scratched at my hands as if I could remove Jenny’s blood.

We passed the train station. “You have to tell me what happened,” he said. “I’m trying to help you.”

My heart pounded, the artery under my scar throbbing. “I was going to meet her,” I said, my voice breaking. “But when I got there, she was . . .” I couldn’t say it out loud.