Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
“ O kay, walk me through it.”
Eli stood off to the side, shifting from foot to foot, vaguely annoyed. They had tried to Facetime Tristan, but he wanted Darby in person, to see what memories it might trigger. Eli didn’t like that. Won’t she be in danger? he’d asked. Tristan’s disdain for that question had been palpable, and Eli was annoyed with the man, for the first time in his life. It was all well and good that he was intimidating and had big muscles, but this was Darby they were talking about. She was soft and vulnerable and…
“He was stabbed, a whole bunch, right there,” she said now, pointing toward the bed, from her vantage point in the closet.
Tristan stood beside her, trying to see things from her angle to see what she saw. “You don’t know who the man was?”
“No,” Darby said, giving her head a hard shake. “Never saw him before, definitely not one of the tenants.”
“Would you recognize him, if you saw him?” Tristan asked.
“Er,” she hemmed, sounding uncertain. “I have no idea. My brain isn’t exactly reliable right now.” Despite her statement, she sounded relieved. Eli hadn’t believed, not for one second, that Darby was guilty of killing Asher. Darby must have harbored doubts, however. He couldn’t imagine how hard it had been on her, to learn there were large swaths of her life she couldn’t remember. And yet she’d held up so admirably, was so brave and sweet and vulnerable and… He cut off that line of thought with a shake of his head. Not his. That was the most important thing. Darby needed a friend right now, that was all. Anything else would be taking advantage. He had sworn to her that he wouldn’t hit on her and had almost broken that promise and kissed her, when they were on his uncle’s swing. With some distance, he had himself back under control. It also helped that she was describing the murder she’d witnessed. Color him crazy, but attraction sort of went out the window, when a woman began talking about blood and puncture wounds.
“But why was she here in the first place?” Eli interjected.
“For the same reason she broke into your place,” Tristan said.
Was Eli jealous that Darby also broke into Asher’s apartment? No, because only a crazy person would be jealous over something so odd. He was certainly not possessive of Darby’s former psychosis. Was he? Maybe a little. I am getting a good glimpse at all the worst parts of me. In some selfish way, he wanted to believe Darby had sought him out because they had some sort of connection, or because she liked him. Apparently she had wandered wherever was convenient, and his apartment had merely been one of her stops. Had she broken in on Mack, Dex, and Anthony, too? Surely one of them would have said something, if so. Asher hadn’t, however, and why not? Why would he have kept that secret?
Now, at last, he was beginning to think like Tristan, and he also saw why Tristan wanted to have this conversation in person: because there was more to it.
“Asher never did anything for anyone, unless it benefited himself,” he said out loud. Tristan gave him a look like, Duh, thanks for finally catching up, but Darby startled and stared at him.
“You’re right,” she croaked. “So what did he get from me?” Unconsciously, or maybe not, her fingers migrated to her lips and pressed. Tristan studied her with a detached air.
“Did he assault you?” he asked.
Darby startled again, and this time Eli did, too. He gave a menacing glare toward the bed, which was ineffectual. All traces of Asher were gone, replaced by Tristan’s pristine white bedspread, with hospital corners and one pillow, in the exact center of the bed. If a cross hung on the wall, it would resemble a monk’s room, but instead Josie had hung up artwork from her kids, a series of gnomes in varying colors. And somehow the contrast worked.
“I don’t know,” Darby breathed. Eli couldn’t resist the urge to move closer and lay a reassuring hand on her back, and why shouldn’t he? They were friends. Friends could touch. Friends could resist the urge to sniff her hair when she leaned into that touch, almost desperate for comfort and reassurance.
“Try to think past the fear,” Eli urged, his hand rubbing the little circular path on her spine that seemed to soothe her. “When you allow the fear to surface, it takes over and pauses the rational part of your brain. Tristan and I are here, you are safe. It’s okay to remember, nothing bad will happen to you. You did nothing wrong. You are okay, everything is okay.”
Darby took a deep breath and pushed back at the fear. Eli was right, whenever she let it take over, it shoved away all the thinking parts of her brain, like closing a heavy iron door on her thoughts and memories. She purposely backed away from them, because she was afraid. But she didn’t have to be afraid. Now that she was positive she had nothing to do with Asher’s death, anything she remembered could only help. She closed her eyes, focusing on the gentle feel of Eli’s hand on her back. Asher’s face popped into view. Her instinct was to pull back from his smirk, but she leaned into it instead, powering through her visceral recoil.
She didn’t remember breaking into Asher’s house, but now that she pushed herself, she remembered him arriving on her doorstep. She saw that smirk for what it was—smug and heady with power.
Can I help you? she’d asked, at first believing he must have a problem with his apartment, the kind that necessitated a visit to the landlord.
He had let himself in uninvited, brushing by her as he bumped her aside.
What are you doing? Get out, she’d said, still holding the door open.
Oh, I don’t think you want me to do that, he’d replied, ignoring her as he scanned the interior of her dwelling.
I’m positive I do, she said, still holding the door open.
What are you going to do, call the police? he’d teased.
Darby remembered the apprehension she felt at those words. At the time, she hadn’t understood them, until he spoke again. Maybe, she’d trembled.
His smile had widened. Good, then I can tell them all about your midnight visit to my apartment.
Her arms went slack at that. What? she whispered.
His smile grew impossibly wider. I guess you don’t remember. I didn’t think you did. It was like you were sleepwalking or something.
No, I, no… She’d whimpered then, hating the weak, scared sound that came out of her. What was going on? Had she actually been in Asher’s apartment? Sleepwalking? Did that explain the weird dreams, the exhaustion, the blank spots in her memory? What had she done? What had she done ? Could she really go to jail for breaking into a tenant’s apartment?
Relax, Asher said, in the same taunting tone. I’m not going to bust you.
Darby had blinked at him, fear and hope mingling in her expression, until he took a step forward.
You’re going to do something for me, he said.
Darby took a step back, pressing against the door, feeling genuine fear. What?
He chuckled. Not that. It’s easy. I want you to hold on to something for me, keep it safe.
What is it?
At that point he pulled out a key and dangled it between them like he was about to hypnotize her.
Why do you need me to hold it? she’d asked, both relieved and confused. That was it? He wanted her to keep a key for him? She would have done that, even if he wasn’t blackmailing her.
I need it to be somewhere unexpected, somewhere no one can find it. Somewhere safe.
Reluctantly, she held out her palm and watched the key drop into it. I’ll hide it; I’ll keep it safe.
Good, he said, then he took another step closer and kissed her, forcefully, roughly. She whimpered and tried to shrink away, but she was already at the door. He broke off the kiss and held her face painfully in his hand. Your life depends on it, he added, then let himself out and disappeared.
“I think…I think maybe that was why I came back, to return the key? I don’t remember completely, but I do have this vague notion of being upset, of wanting to give it back, to get rid of it,” she finished telling them the story and eased impossibly closer to Eli, trembling, siphoning his warm steady presence. He gave up rubbing her back and drew her against him in a comforting half-hug while Tristan stared at her, thinking.
“Did you bring the key back, when you were here?”
“I must have,” she said, shrugging.
“Did the guy take the key from you?” Tristan asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I never left the closet, never had any contact with him. I think I dissociated for a while, and then just disappeared and floated back to my apartment, not remembering anything.”
“So, the key might still be in your apartment,” Tristan said, and Darby’s jaw dropped, shocked and alarmed anew by that prospect.
“There’s a good chance,” she said, but to his back, because he had already walked away and headed toward her apartment. “I guess we follow?” she whispered to Eli.
“We don’t have to,” he assured her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “It’s not too late for us, we can move somewhere Tristan will never find us.”
Darby laughed, feeling lighter. Eli had that effect, no matter the situation. “Not sure it’s Tristan we need to be worried about in this scenario.”
“Yo,” Tristan called, hurrying them along.
“Or maybe so?” Darby whispered.
“Hurry, before he replicates and sends his tracker bots to retrieve us,” Eli said. He clasped her hand and tugged her along beside him, smiling when she giggled.
Tristan stood on the doorstep to Darby’s apartment, when they arrived. His expression remained placid, but somehow they knew he was perturbed. To Eli’s extreme surprise, he answered their unasked question.
“I get antsy when I feel I’m near the end of a case.”
Eli and Darby traded glances. “How are we near the end?” Eli asked.
“Won’t know until we find the key,” was Tristan’s cryptic answer.
“It’s like we’re in a live-action video game, and we’re the NPC’s, following the main character while he finishes his quest,” Eli whispered.
Darby smashed her hand over her mouth, but he saw her shoulders shake.
“I can hear you,” Tristan noted, but it didn’t stop him from barreling ahead of them, eyes scanning back and forth like a tracker hound unleashed.
“All we have to do is jump over the lollipop canyon, scale mount doom, not get eaten by the magic mushrooms, and ride the elephantacorn to freedom,” Eli hissed to Darby, who laughed harder, and then harder still when Tristan faced them, hands on hips.
“Where do you keep things?” he demanded.
Eli raised his hand. “Things like joy and laughter? Are you ‘asking for a friend,’ or is this you having a breakthrough?”
Darby doubled over and pressed a hand to her stomach, holding herself together as a peal of laughter took her.
“You broke her, and I need her,” Tristan said.
Pretty sure I need her more, Eli thought and, whoa, where exactly did that thought come from? It was so shocking that he was much more sober when he rested his hand on Darby’s shoulder and said, “Tell us where to look, we’ll help, if that’s all right.”
She stood and wiped her teary eyes. “Honestly? I have no idea where I might have put things in the midst of my tumor era. It’s not like I was functioning normally.”
“Where do you normally hide things?” Tristan asked.
Darby shrugged. “I live alone, I have no need to hide things.”
The way Tristan looked at her, with something like disgust, made them think he hid everything, despite the fact that he also lived alone. Eli didn’t want to contemplate what that might be. Guns? Ammo? Emotional baggage? Good luck to Josie, he thought, and when Darby caught his eye and tilted her head, he thought she might be thinking the same. “Just start looking,” she said with a shooing motion. “You both have my permission to rifle my things.”
That was all the permission Tristan needed. He turned and began a methodic and thorough search. For a while, Darby and Eli watched him.
“Should we actually help?” Eli whispered. “I feel like we’d be impeding his inner Marie Kondo.”
“It’s weird if we don’t, right?” Darby whispered.
“Maybe this is like therapy for him,” Eli said.
“If I tossed in things I need cleaned or organized, do you think he’d notice?” Darby asked.
“Someone, somewhere should definitely be doing a research paper on him,” Eli said.
“Bold of you to assume I’m not the topic of several,” Tristan said. With no help from them, he located the key in Darby’s freezer, shook off a few frozen peas, and held it aloft. “Where do you think this goes?”
“According to Darby, behind the ice cream,” Eli said, and Darby bent over to laugh again.