Chapter Thirty-Three
RAVEN
AS WE pull up to the house, the first thing I notice is the unmarked police car on the street.
They must have been waiting for some time.
I see the thinnest dusting of snow on the hood and top of the vehicle.
Only the windshield of the car is clear, the wipers reminding me of human eyelashes as we pass by and pull into the driveway.
Knox turns to me as he cuts the engine.
“They wanted to speak with us again, so I asked them to meet us here. I knew you didn’t want to spend another second in that building.”
I push my lips into a smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes, grateful he understands without me having to explain myself.
The four of us greet each other outside, cycling through the usual pleasantries as Knox unlocks the front door and leads me in.
With my left arm in a sling and my right hand pretty much useless from the knife wound that went straight through my palm as I protected my face, Knox has to help me remove my oversized puff jacket before he removes his own.
I hear movement from down the hallway and glance up to see Cash and Zeke in the doorway of the kitchen.
Their expressions are serious as I lead the small group into the front living space, taking a seat on the big oversized couch.
The cushions sink under me. Knox doesn’t sit beside me.
Instead, he perches his body on the armrest like a centurion on duty.
“I’m happy to see you both out of the hospital,” Detective Vallejo says.
She sits down directly across from us, her partner doing the same.
“Happy to be out,” Knox says, wrapping one arm around me.
I lean into him and nod in agreement. I absolutely cannot stand hospitals. They are too loud and bright for me to get any real sleep. I sleep best when my bedroom is more like a cool black box. I’ve been surviving on naps for the last three days and am ready for some real rest.
“Well, we won’t keep you long, now that you’re home,” Officer Okrent says. “But we do have some updates on your case.”
I sit up a little straighter at this.
“Have you found the man who did this?” Knox asks.
“No, not yet. But we do have some questions for you,” the detective says.
She reaches into her bag and pulls out some photos. She lays them out on the coffee table in front of us.
Knox and I lean forward.
The first photo looks like security footage, with a gray car centered.
The second photo is from a front porch camera.
This front porch. I recognize the chairs on the edges of the frame and the front lawn in the evening light.
A masked and hooded figure is centered, but their features are well hidden.
A creeping sensation begins in my stomach as I stare at it.
“Is this from our camera?” Knox asks, clearly recognizing the background as well.
“Yes,” Officer Okrent confirms.
Knox huffs angrily. “That fucker came right in through the front door?”
He phrases it as a question, but the evidence is clear to see.
“Do you recognize this woman?” Detective Vallejo asks, laying down a third photo.
I look down, and that creeping sensation increases, turning my stomach into tight knots.
The photo looks like it has been taken from social media.
She’s average in every way. Average height, average weight, average features.
She smiles in the photo, and she points to her own chest, Knox Knight and the Nightshades visible on her shirt.
I recognize her but cannot place exactly where I’ve seen her before.
“No,” Knox says.
“I know I’ve seen her before,” I say at the same time.
“Her name is Gillian Wilson.”
As soon as Vallejo says her name, the memories of our first date flood back to me.
“Oh my god…she’s…she’s that woman. That fan that’s been to a few of your gigs. She was there at FullSpectrum. She was there that night we found that iFind tag in your pocket…”
It’s been two months since that night, but that experience takes on a whole different meaning suddenly, everything snapping into focus in a way that makes me nauseous. We never knew who slipped that tracking device into Knox’s jeans, but now I have every reason to believe it was her.
“We were able to trace the car registration back to another member of the Wilson family. She also left some DNA in the bedroom.”
“I thought I got her with that knife. I’m glad there was enough blood,” Knox concludes.
“Yes, we did test the blood and…” Officer Okrent pauses, looking suddenly shy.
“What?” I ask him, but Detective Vallejo answers.
“She also left her underwear in the closet she was hiding in. We were able to match her DNA.”
The world tilts at an even more aggressive angle.
I stammer, “Her underwear?”
Taking another look at the photo of the masked figure, I see the time stamp in the corner. We didn’t get back to the house until around 6:30 that night. The bold letters in the corner clearly read 3:17 pm. A crawling sensation like flies on my skin erupts on my arms and legs.
“She was in this house for hours?” I ask, and they both nod in confirmation.
“Jesus Christ.” Knox breathes, looking unsteady for the first time since I woke up in the hospital.
“About two hours before you and the band members arrived back here from the store, according to their statements and your own security footage.”
This horrible feeling that was descending on me fully clamps down on my heart.
Knox is speaking to Vallejo and Okrent, but my focus has narrowed to the social media photo of Gillian.
She looks completely innocuous. Light brown eyes, light brown hair, a slight tan on her otherwise pale skin from the obvious outdoor location.
I’m trying to square this image with that violent shadow that stabbed at me, likely aiming for my heart with that first blow.
“We’re still waiting for the warrant to come through from the judge, but that should happen today. We’ll be able to look through all her social media accounts and other private documents once we have that,” Okrent is explaining when I drag myself back to the present conversation.
I stand quickly, three pairs of eyes turning to me as I do.
“Umm…I need a minute. I’m sorry.”
I turn from them and leave the room, unsure of where I’m going. I feel like I need to puke and lie down at the same time. Completely on autopilot, I climb the steps, and I’m walking into Knox’s bedroom before I can stop myself.
I look around the bright space. Someone has been through here to clean.
The bed frame is where it always was, but the mattress is missing.
The large area rug is also gone, the old wooden planks scrubbed to within an inch of their lives.
Despite the warm feeling in the space, I am cold.
A sudden fear impulse hits me, and I cross over to the closet, throwing the door open.
I don’t know what I expected to see, but seeing the bare floor deflates me.
Did you sit right there watching us? Or were you standing at the back listening to us the entire time?
The sound of movement distracts me from my racing thoughts, and I turn as Knox enters the room.
“There you are, sweetheart.”
“Hi,” I respond.
“The police are gone. They’ll call us when there are more details.” He watches me for a few silent moments before saying, “I’ve got us set up in the downstairs bedroom.”
“Okay,” I say, not moving from my spot.
“I didn’t figure you would want to stay in this room.”
“I don’t.”
His expression pinches. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” I answer too quickly.
Knox crosses over to me and gently touches my right shoulder. It’s only then that I realize my body is shivering like I have a cold.
“Talk to me, Venny.”
I open my mouth to speak, but this broken sob comes out instead. He pulls me into his chest. The pressure makes the wound in my shoulder burn, but I don’t want him to let go.
“She was here, Knox,” I finally manage.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.”
“I…I can’t be in here.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
But even as we leave the room and take the steps to the first floor, I know it won’t be enough.
For all I know, Gillian searched every room in this house.
Her DNA could be on anything. On everything.
Everything we pass at once feels unfamiliar and tainted somehow.
Knox gets me to the bed, pulling the blankets up around my shoulders.
But I know there is no rest for me inside these walls.
“I can’t.”
I sit up, my whole body aching in the process.
“Can’t what?”
“I can’t sleep here, Knox. I can’t…I feel like she’s still here. Still watching me.”
“You heard what the police said. They’re sure she left the city.”
I actually don’t remember them saying that, lost in my spiraling thoughts.
“They don’t know that. They’re grasping. For all they know she could be back. She could…”
Gillian could be anywhere. She could be in one of the cars parked on the street for all I know, waiting for the coast to be clear to make her move. To finish the job she started. My shoulder burns white hot, and I’m shaking again.
I cannot sleep in this house. But nowhere really feels safe.
I could call Dove. She and RJ live in a high-rise building downtown.
Between the doorman and the private elevator, it would be difficult for an intruder to find their way in.
But if Gillian did manage to get past all of that, I’d be putting my sister’s life at risk.
I could call Mom and Dad. Ronald is several hours away from Denver. Yet that still doesn’t feel far enough away. I’m just as likely to take my troubles to them. How am I supposed to protect myself, let alone them, against an invisible foe?
“I can’t sleep here,” I repeat.
“You don’t feel safe here,” he concludes.
“Not until they catch her.”
Knox leans over and kisses my forehead.
“Let me make a call, sweetheart. We’re not sleeping here tonight, but I want you to rest, okay? I know you haven’t slept much in these last few days.”
I nod, leaning back into the pillows and letting the weight of the blanket soothe some of my nerves.