Things We Do in the Dark(37)

“Which is what, taking your clothes off for a bunch of skeezy assholes?” Drew’s voice was a few decibels shy of a shout. “Rubbing yourself all over them until they get off? Get a fucking roommate, Joey. That makes a hell of a lot more sense than whoring yourself out.”

She slapped him, and the instant her palm connected with his cheek, he knew he deserved it. The slap was surprisingly painful. She’d hit him hard.

“Some of those skeezy assholes tonight were your friends,” she said. “And if you really think I’m a whore, then there’s no point in talking anymore.”

Drew rubbed his cheek, which was stinging like crazy. “So you’ll get naked for anyone else except me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t you remember that night, about a week before we moved, when Simone was working—”

“Of course I remember that night,” Joey snapped. “And you know damn well why I stopped. Do not make this about you, you selfish, self-righteous asshole. You might hate my job, but your opinion doesn’t matter to me anymore. You left me. You left.”

They were both breathing heavily, the windows fogging up all around them.

“I can’t believe you slapped me,” he finally said.

“Yeah, well,” she said, opening the car door again. This time, Drew didn’t try to stop her. “Like mother, like daughter. Have a nice life, asshole.”

The door slammed. He watched as she let herself into the house, using the side door that led directly down to the basement. When the door shut behind her, and he knew she was safely inside, he reversed out of the driveway.

He didn’t look back.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


That conversation, which would turn out to be their last, did not go at all as Drew planned.

He’d spent an hour driving in circles after their argument, trying to clear his head. He knew he had been a total dick to Joey and that he owed her an apology, but he also knew it wouldn’t sound sincere until he cooled off. He had a mother, two sisters, an ex-girlfriend, and now a fiancée, and he’d learned the hard way that women did not like it when “I’m sorry!” was shouted at them. All they heard was the tone, not the words.

He turned the car around at four a.m. By the time he got back to Acorn Street, there were two fire trucks, an ambulance, and two police cars blocking the road. It seemed that, in the hour and a half or so since he’d left, there had been a fire. He slowed the car and rolled down his window to get a better look. There were no flames anywhere. He wasn’t even sure which house was the problem.

But the smell of smoke was unmistakable.

Many of the neighbors were outside, boots and parkas thrown on over their pajamas, a few still wearing their New Year’s party outfits. They stood on their lawns, speaking quietly to each other, shaking their heads in disbelief. Half the street was blocked off, so Drew parked the car as close as he could to the action and got out, scanning all the faces, looking for any sign of Joey. She was nowhere to be seen.

The first knot of fear formed in his stomach.

He made his way closer to the house, his old house, Joey’s house. The side door leading to the basement apartment was open, and a firefighter in full gear stood just inside the doorway.

A second knot of fear tied itself around his heart.

“Drew,” someone said, and he whirled around. “Hey man, I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Rick.” Drew was relieved to see someone he knew. His former neighbor was a few years older, with a wife and small kid, and lived three houses down. “What the hell happened? I can smell the smoke, but the house looks okay?”

“The fire was contained to the basement,” Rick said. “The alarm must have been going off for a while before any of the neighbors heard it, because the upstairs tenants are out of town. The trucks got here quick, but…”

The fire was in the basement.

A third knot of fear tightened around his throat.

“But what?” Drew forced out the words, his voice strangled.

Rick blinked and then looked around, as if he couldn’t believe he was the one who had to tell him and was hoping someone else would magically appear to take over the conversation.

“I’m so sorry, man,” Rick finally said. “Joey … they said Joey didn’t make it.”

His former neighbor had spoken actual words, and Drew had heard them. But strung together in that order, those words didn’t make any sense. “What do you mean, Joey didn’t make it?”

Rick shifted his weight from right to left, clearly uncomfortable. “I overheard one of the firefighters saying it was the fireplace. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but they think it started there. I didn’t realize that house still had a wood-burning fireplace in the basement. We had ours filled in when we renovated last year, because the contractor told us it wasn’t up to code. They … they couldn’t get Joey out in time.”

Drew stared at him, waiting for the punch line. It didn’t come.

“But I was just here,” he said, and his voice sounded strange to his own ears, almost like it wasn’t him speaking. “I was just here, and she was fine, she was … she…”

He saw the firefighter step out of the basement entrance, and a few seconds later, a paramedic appeared. He was holding one end of a stretcher, slowly shuffling backward as he maneuvered his way out the side door. Drew could see a lump the shape of a body emerge. It was covered in a yellow plastic tarp.