Chapter Twenty
When Allen woke up, the first thing he was aware of was Rick’s arm across his waist. He lay there for a minute, staring at the curtains, listening to Rick breathe behind him.
Rick was warm against his back, his naked body pressed against Allen’s.
Rick shifted, face pressing into Allen’s neck, hand tightening once before it loosened again.
Allen stayed still. He didn’t want to wake him because he didn’t want to talk.
He didn’t want Rick looking at him too closely first thing in the morning.
He eased himself out from under Rick’s arm, slow enough that Rick didn’t fully wake.
Rick made a low sound, then rolled onto his stomach and went quiet again.
Allen got up and went to the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him.
He turned the tap on and stared at himself in the mirror while the water ran.
He looked normal. Tired, maybe. A little puffy around the eyes.
Nothing that matched what was happening in his head.
He brushed his teeth, rinsed, then gripped the edge of the sink and waited for his thoughts to settle, but they didn’t.
The screen from two nights ago was still there when he closed his eyes. Names, dates, overlaps that shouldn’t have been there. He’d told himself it was coincidence. He told Rick that he wasn’t going anywhere. Those two things didn’t work together.
Shaking his head, Allen quickly washed his face, then went back into the bedroom and pulled on some clothes. Jeans, a clean T-shirt, and his hoodie. As he dressed, Rick stirred. Allen lifted the hoodie from the chair and pulled it on, seeing Rick open his eyes and look up at him.
“You’re up early,” Rick mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Allen forced a small smile. “Habit, I guess.”
Rick rolled onto his back, eyes half-open. “Come back to bed.”
“In a minute.” Allen kept it light. “I’m just getting a drink.”
Rick watched him, then pushed himself up on one elbow. Even half-asleep, he was still tuned in. “Are you okay?” Rick asked. He blinked a couple of times, then looked Allen up and down. “Allen?”
Allen smiled even though he didn’t want to. “Yeah. I’m just hungry.”
Rick’s gaze stayed on him for a second, then he nodded slowly. “Okay. I’m going to take a shower,” he said, swinging his legs out of bed. “Can you make coffee?”
Allen nodded as Rick walked past him into the bathroom and shut the door.
The lock didn’t click. A minute later the shower started, water hitting the tile and filling the apartment with noise.
Allen closed his eyes, listening to the sound, then slowly opened them and stared at the door before leaving the bedroom.
In the kitchen, Allen started doing small jobs to pass the time and to try to keep himself from thinking about what he’d found.
He filled the kettle, rinsed two mugs that didn’t need rinsing, and wiped down the counter even though he’d wiped it last night.
He checked his phone twice without actually unlocking it and put it back down.
The urge to open the laptop came back hard.
Just to check what he’d found again and make sure he didn’t misread it.
Just to find some piece that made everything make sense.
The kettle clicking off pulled Allen from his thoughts.
He didn’t have a proper coffee machine, so poured boiling water into two mugs and stirred.
He smelled the coffee and tried to smile, but couldn’t.
He put bread in the toaster and took two plates out, even though he wasn’t sure he could eat anything.
He opened the fridge, stared into it, then closed it again, then opened it and grabbed the milk.
His phone buzzed on the counter, and Allen stared at it like it might somehow tell him what to do. He sipped his coffee and stared out of the window, seeing nothing but his laptop screen. He could be wrong about what he’d seen. Misinterpreted the information.
The shower cut off, and Allen heard Rick moving around in the bedroom.
Something clinked softly, then steps came toward the bedroom door.
Rick came out with damp hair, a clean T-shirt and jeans on, and a towel around his neck.
He looked too put-together for Allen’s cramped bathroom and cheap shampoo.
Rick came up behind him and slid an arm around his waist, his chin resting on Allen’s shoulder. “Smells good.”
Allen made a sound that was meant to be a laugh. “It’s toast and coffee. Don’t get excited.”
Rick kissed the side of Allen’s neck, and Allen stood still and let him, trying to treat it like what it was meant to be. Affection. A soft morning touch. Something normal, but his body didn’t cooperate. He stayed tense, and Rick felt it.
Rick paused for half a second, then held on a little longer, and then let go. “I left my charger in my bag,” he said casually. “Can you grab it? It’s in the front pocket.”
Allen swallowed and nodded. “Sure.”
Rick walked back toward the bedroom with his phone in his hand. “I’m going to call someone back. Two minutes.”
“Okay.”
Allen watched him go, then turned to the chair by the couch where Rick’s bag sat.
Black, worn at the corners, but clearly expensive.
Allen picked it up and placed it on the couch, then unzipped the front pocket.
He expected cables. Gum. Sunglasses. His fingers hit plastic instead, and he slowly pulled it out.
A phone.
Furrowing his brow, Allen stared at it. It wasn’t Rick’s because Allen had seen Rick walk into the bedroom holding it. This one was older, smaller, cheap, the kind you bought to use for a week and threw away. The one Rick had was more expensive, not cheap like the one Allen held.
He should’ve put it back. He knew that, but he didn’t.
He pressed the side button, and the screen lit up.
There was no lock screen photo or wallpaper, and Allen couldn’t see any notifications either.
What he did see was plain text and a list. Notes.
Allen’s mouth went dry as he stared at the screen.
This could be for privacy, he told himself. Celebrities had burner phones, but even as he told himself that, he couldn’t stop himself from staring at what was written.
The first title dropped his stomach out.
Cass — Briar House Hotel
His fingers tightened around the phone. He stared at the words, then tapped before he could stop himself. The note opened. It wasn’t long. It was just lines. A list.
Room 1218
Camera in corridor
Used stairs
Phone + wallet
No one else there
Done
Allen couldn’t feel his hands properly. Allen swallowed hard and backed out to the list. He could hear his own pulse rush through his body. He could hear Rick in the bedroom, voice low on a call, calm and normal.
Another title sat there, waiting.
Elliot — Friday
Allen’s throat tightened so hard it hurt, but it didn’t stop him from tapping the screen.
10pm
Leaves alone
Flat tire
No cameras by loading bay
Phone/wallet/watch
Done
Allen stared at the words until they stopped making sense, then snapped back into place.
Flat tire. 10pm. Phone, wallet, watch. He’d seen those details because he’d read them in an article.
He’d told himself it was a robbery. He told himself it didn’t mean anything, but it actually did mean something.
He backed out and stared at the list again.
Allen’s stomach lurched. He put the phone down on the couch and stood up too fast, grabbing the back of the chair to steady himself.
He paced from the couch to the kitchen and back, running his hands through his hair, his eyes straying to the phone repeatedly.
He’d seen it. Seen the proof that Rick was involved in the murders, or that he knew who had done it.
“This is…” he whispered, then stopped. He couldn’t say the words out loud.
He slowly closed his eyes and tried to breathe.
Coincidence was the word his brain told him, but it didn’t work anymore.
He opened his eyes and looked at the phone again.
It wasn’t a coincidence. It was planning.
That’s what the lists were for. Information needed to plan what happened.
Allen picked up the phone again because some part of him still wanted to be wrong. He scrolled back to the top, back to Cass, back to that hotel name. He could see it clearly now. The cream card. The gold border. The logo. It had been in Rick’s car.
Allen swallowed hard, his eyes burning. He wasn’t going to cry. Crying didn’t fix anything or change what he’d found.
Rick was moving around in the bedroom now. Allen heard his footsteps, then a drawer moving. His voice was low and calm as he finished the call. Allen turned the burner phone off with shaking fingers. The screen went dark, but the words stayed in his head.
He stood there with the bag open on the couch, the zipper still down, the front pocket gaping. He should’ve put everything back. He should’ve zipped it up. He should’ve acted normal, but his hands didn’t move.
Rick’s footsteps came closer now. He walked in with his phone in his hand, expression relaxed. He glanced at the phone, then at Allen.
“You found it,” he stated.
Allen was still holding the burner, turned off now. The weight was heavy in his hand. He couldn’t make his mouth work. Couldn’t find anything to say. Rick’s eyes dropped to what Allen was holding. His expression didn’t change much, but something in it tightened.
Allen felt his body go cold. Rick knew exactly what Allen had found, and Allen knew there wasn’t a harmless explanation coming.