Last Light(38)

“Baby,” I whispered.

I could see where the cat’s teeth punctured his flesh, four large spots with smaller splotches around them. I covered my mouth.

“Let me see your wrist,” I said. “Let me see it.”

“Hannah, stop. It’s nothing.”

“No.” I caught his hand. I scanned his arm until I found a pink bar on the inside of his forearm and another over his wrist. I stared at the scars.

“They don’t hurt. Stop this. We’re happy. Everything is working out.” Matt lifted my chin. The confidence in his voice was absent from his expression. His eyes were haunted. And no wonder …

Matt opened his mouth to say more—and then, from the kitchen, his cell began to ring.





Chapter 22


MATT


Hannah and I hovered over the phone. She looked afraid to touch it, her dark eyes so round. The silence between each ring was dead air. And then it stopped.

Mel, I prayed, don’t leave a message, don’t leave a message … please.

How could I have forgotten to tell Mel not to call this weekend? I bought the new phone on Thursday and sent her the number as soon as I got back to the cabin. Then, in my rush to prepare for Hannah’s visit, I completely forgot about Mel.

And here she was—Melanie, the stranger responsible for Night Owl’s publication—calling me while Hannah listened in horror.

My cell began to ring again. Fuck.

“What the hell?” Hannah whispered. She looked between me and the ringing cell. “Who has this number besides me?”

“No one,” I stammered. “No one, I swear. It’s got to be a wrong number.”

“What if … someone figured this out? I’m answering it.”

“No!” I grabbed the phone.

Hannah’s eyes narrowed. There. For the first time since she arrived, I saw suspicion flash across her face.

I eased the TracFone back onto the counter.

Its loud, persistent ring was the sound of panic.

“Why answer it?” I said. “I mean, there’s no point.”

“Matt, we have to know who it is. And you can’t answer it. I’m answering it.”

Before I could stop her, Hannah flipped open my cell and brought it to her ear.

“Hello?” she said.

My heart thudded into a thin, fast rhythm. I could do nothing but stare and strain to hear. No voice came from the phone. Or maybe it did and I missed it. My ears were ringing.

“Hello?” Hannah demanded. “Who is this? Hello?”

Her face fell. She glared at the phone, then snapped it shut. Her hand was shaking.

“They hung up,” she said. “They didn’t say anything.”

Another muffled ringtone sounded.

This time, it was Hannah’s phone.

She frowned and opened her purse, digging out her phone and peering at it.

“Shit, it’s Nate.”

“Oh, of course.” I threw up a hand.

“I have to answer this.”

“Do you, now?” I folded my arms and regarded Hannah carefully. Why did she have to answer a call from Nate?

“It looks weird if I don’t, okay? Let me handle this.” She took the call and walked off a few feet. I followed her like a vulture, looming at her shoulder.

“Nate? Hey. No, it’s fine.” She paused. “No, out at Kevin’s cabin. Yeah. Yeah, I needed to get away. He said I could stay here.” Another pause. “He really is, yeah.”

I leaned in, but I couldn’t catch Nate’s voice.

Hannah glared and twisted away from me. Then something changed in her expression. Her hesitant smile fell and her dark brows drew together.

“What?” She walked toward the deck. She was silent for a minute. “I see. I see. I don’t know anything about that.” Her shoulders hunched as she listened. “No,” she said. “I realize that. It’s really weird, but I—yes, believe me.”

Hannah’s one-sided conversation continued to make no sense. While her back was to me, I shut off my new cell.

“All right. I will, Nate. I’m sorry. I’ll be in touch. Bye.”

She ended the call and lowered her phone. She took her time turning to face me. She tightened the towel around her bust and returned the phone to her purse.

“Nate,” she said.

“Mm.”

Hannah’s guarded expression worried me, along with her slow and careful motions.

“It seems like…” She looked through her purse. “It seems like Night Owl has been removed from the Internet. All the places selling the e-book have discontinued it.”

I looked down at the countertop. Too late … the slow-dawning realization of how suspicious this looked. Hannah told me about the lawsuit last weekend. Within days, Night Owl disappeared from the Internet.

I wasn’t clever at all. Not at all. I was the world’s biggest f*cking idiot.

“Wow,” I managed.

“Yeah, wow.” She continued to go through her purse, and when I looked at her hands, I saw that she wasn’t really searching for anything. She mechanically raised and replaced items. Lip gloss. Her keys. A coin purse. A pill holder.

I grasped her wrist. Her hands jerked to a stop.