Chapter 26
By the time I get back to my apartment complex, I’m more than ready for a relaxing bubble bath. Gus peed in the car and Shawn chewed up the solar-powered flashlight Connor gave me last year for Christmas in case of emergencies. Hopefully, there will be no emergencies in my future.
I trudge up the stairs to my apartment, the dogs at my heels nudging me forward. A door closes up the hallway and a familiar whistle carries through the corridor. A moment later Gary comes into view.
“Good morning, Miss Amelia.” He tips his nonexistent hat to me.
“Good morning, Gary.” I smile even though it’s nearly nine o’clock at night. “Can I help you back to your apartment?”
“That would be lovely dear, thank you.”
I take his arm, relieved I won’t have to follow him around for the next hour in case he forgets his way home. I don’t know many of my neighbors (read: none), but I do know I’m the only one who takes care of Gary. He seems chipper today, which is good. But I still wish he didn’t have to stay here alone in an apartment complex without necessary help while he continues to decline.
I yawn, exhausted by the thought and all the other problems I can’t fix.
“You didn’t get enough sleep,” Gary says as we reach his door.
“Nope,” I agree. I didn’t sleep well last night because I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about a very handsome FBI agent. But I’m more exhausted from this long day.
“I make a great chamomile tea. I’ll bring you some tonight. It will make all your worries disappear.”
I seriously doubt that. “That would be lovely, Gary, thank you.”
We reach his apartment and I wait until I hear his door fully click shut and lock before leaving.
I pull the dogs away from Gary’s flowers and trudge back to my apartment. I barely have the door open before the dogs dart inside, barking like crazy. My head pounds with each of their high-pitched yaps. I scoot them off the couch and drag them to my room one at a time. But that only makes them bark more so I toss a few milk bones in to them. From my phone, I turn on an old cop show Shawn likes. I need a few minutes to relax. With a bubble bath and some chocolate. I dig through the freezer until I find a pint of Ben Jerry’s.
I kick off my shoes, yawning again as I open the bathroom door. It’s an absolute mess in here. When was the last time I cleaned? Or the first time? I clear a path to the bathtub and gag as I pinch the ball of yarn out of the toilet, dropping it into the trash.
Those dogs. They’re terrible listeners.
I throw open the shower curtain and my heart grinds to a halt. The world stops spinning. Or maybe it spins faster because I have to brace myself against a wall to remain upright.
My heart leaps to my throat, trapping the scream begging to escape. I need to scream and run because Justin is in my tub fully clothed, blood smeared down the front of his shirt from where a knitting needle has been impaled into his chest.
The lump finally dislodges from my throat, and I scream. A screech so strangled and foreign it can’t possibly be coming from me. My legs buckle beneath me and I stumble backward, my hand still clenched around the curtain. The whole rod follows, knocking the shower on. Cold water rains down over Justin.
He doesn’t move. Until the other end of the curtain rod rams into his head, knocking it over the side of the tub.
Bile rises up my throat and before I can stop it, it spews out.
All over Justin. If there was any question before, there isn’t now.
He’s dead.
What am I supposed to do? My useless brain is a scrambled mess and I can’t collect a coherent thought.
Justin. Dead. Tub.
The back of my eyes burn and tears blur my vision.
I reach out a quivering hand to turn off the water but accidentally push it to hot instead. Scalding water attacks me and I leap back.
My thoughts are all jumbled as I watch the water run over Justin. He didn’t deserve this. The kindest thing I can think of is to wash off the puke.
Steam joins my liquid-filled eyes. I can’t see. My whole body is shaking. My skin feels wrong like it’s too tight and too loose all at once. My lungs can’t expand fully. But I have to do something.
I grip the door frame and use it to guide my panicked body away from the horror.
My hands tremble around my phone, but after a few failed attempts I finally manage to click on Caleb’s name.
“Hey, sorry, I’m kind of busy right now, can I call you back?” he answers on the first ring.
“Justin is in my house!” I scream.
“Your ex?”
“He’s dead!” I yell again because it’s the only pitch I can maintain right now.
I hear his sharp intake, followed by a curse. “Did you kill him?”
“No!” I fumble with the phone, nearly turning it off before managing to hit the video button. I walk back to the bathroom, phone outstretched, eyes closed as I aim it toward Justin’s body.
“If he’s dead, why is he taking a shower?”
“Because I threw up on him!” I turn the phone back to my splotchy face, trying to focus on Caleb’s comforting green eyes. But my brain is on overload and on the verge of self-destructing. “I’ve never found a dead person in my apartment before, Caleb!” My voice cracks and he curses again.
“I’ll be right there. I’ll call the cops. Just turn off the water and don’t touch anything!”
A bit too late for that.
There’s a knock on the door.
“I’ve gotta go, someone is here.”
“Amelia, do not open the door!” Caleb barks. “It could be the killer.”
My knees buckle and my blood turns cold. The killer came back to finish the job.
No, me. To finish off me. I look around for something to use as a weapon.
“Amelia?” The knock comes again. “It’s Gary. I have your tea.”
The sound of his aged and gentle voice takes the edge off the frantic panic controlling my body. “It’s just Gary,” I tell Caleb.
“Do not, under any circumstances, open that door, Amelia! Do you hear—?”
But I click the end button before he can finish.
I tiptoe to the door, then crack it open, ensuring the bathroom is out of sight of the old man. He doesn’t need a heart attack tonight. I may be at risk myself.
Gary’s grandfatherly face greets me, and I take my first full breath since finding Justin. Dead. In my tub. Dead. Tub. The words keep repeating themselves in my head like they have nowhere else to go.
“Amelia dear, I just realized what time it was. Silly me thinking it was morning when I saw you earlier.” He gives a slight shake of his head, and I silently will him to hurry. “I brought you that tea you asked for.”
That he offered. That I could really use right about now. But I don’t think I could keep anything down if I tried.
“Thank you.” I snatch the mug out of his hands. Murder has a way of making people less civilized.
His brow furrows. “Are you alright, dear? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Ha!” I bark out an awkward laugh. I would have preferred the ghost to still be connected to Justin’s lifeless body in my tub. “I’m great!” My voice squeaks. “Even better now!” I raise the cup in cheers.
“Let me know how it works for you and I’ll bring you more,” he says, before turning away.
“Will do.” I slam the door and sink against it. Hot tea splashes against my chest, but I don’t even flinch. I can’t move.
The man I thought I loved. The man who broke my heart is in the bathtub…floating?
What?I sprint to the bathroom and shut off the water as Justin’s foot floats over the edge.
Snatching out the plug, I stand there in shock, watching each drop of water disappear. Who would want to kill Justin? And why did they do it in my apartment?
The drain splutters and I look up. Justin’s foot is still hanging over the edge. Should I put him back the way I found him?
Caleb told me not to touch anything, but does it still apply if I’m trying to put him back the way I found him?
I don’t have a chance to decide as I accidentally kick over a stray dog dish and summon the animals I thought I locked in my room. Shawn and Gus sprint into the bathroom, vaulting themselves into the tub.
I scream, as Shawn goes straight for Justin’s shoes and Gus knocks the open canister of bath salts off the edge of the tub. The bottle goes flying, and white salt crystals rain down on everything, including Justin.
Shawn immediately dives in to lick Justin clean.
I’m going to be sick again.
“Shawn! Gus!” I yell, clapping my hands, but the dead guy holds more magnetism than I do. They never liked him when he was alive but now they love him. And now Shawn’s peeing on him. That’s so very Shawn and Gus. To ruin a crime scene like this.
“No!” I lunge forward, grabbing at Shawn’s collar. I wrestle both dogs free and pull them yipping and fighting back to my bedroom, ensuring the door is properly shut, and locked this time.
My legs give out and I fall back against the wall. This is so bad. Should I clean Justin off? I feel awful leaving him in that mess.
I’m so sorry, Justin.