Chapter 30
Nicole
“You sure you don’t wanna come in?” Dylan asked as we sat in the car outside Amanda’s. “Ethan and Lila would love to see you.”
I looked out the window, staring at Amanda’s multimillion-dollar home. A mix of modern and colonial. Clean white siding and large stone steps. It screamed money in every inch of its perfect landscaping.
“I’d love to, but it’s better if I don’t come in.”
I expected a “Why?” but, instead, Dylan’s eyes dropped for just a second before he nodded.
He knew. He was too smart and observant not to. I was Lacey’s fighter. The one who never stopped. And to Amanda, Lacey might still be Zach’s murderer.
“Go now, before the little monsters see me. And kiss them for me.”
Dylan leaned over and hugged me. I held him a second longer than usual. Then he pulled away and got out, his schoolbag slung over one shoulder.
I watched him walk up the path. Amanda had already opened the door. She welcomed him with a quick hug, one hand firm on his shoulder. He disappeared into the house.
She stayed in the doorway, staring at me. Her face was sad. Conflicted. Like she wanted to say something but didn’t trust herself. Then she turned and closed the door.
I put the car in Drive and drove home.
My thoughts wouldn’t slow down.
Dylan. Then Lila. Brian. Nolan. Myers. But mostly Lacey.
She looked horrible.
The image wouldn’t leave me. Her skin was so pale.
Her eyes sunken and dull. Time was running out.
Tomorrow, I’d meet with the public defender Nolan had recommended to see if there was any way to get her out on bail because of her cancer.
She was barely a flight risk, dying like this. Anyone with eyes could see it.
But the DA. That prick. He’d do anything to see her die in jail. He would bend the law into whatever shape he could to deny her bail.
At this point, there was no doubt left in me that Myers had killed Zach. Lacey’s reaction alone said it all. The way her body changed when I mentioned the man with the scar. She remembered him. She couldn’t say it. The trauma was still running too deep to push past it.
Did he make her watch the murder?
My hands balled into fists as I remembered the police report. She’d urinated all over herself. Her clothes were torn. Maybe from a rape attempt. Who knew.
Damn this world. All of it.
I pulled into the driveway and noticed the reporters were still gone. That was great news.
I parked and saw the neighbors, Anne and George, pulling in with their kids. The moment they spotted me, their movements changed. Quicker. Tense. They rushed the kids inside like I was Jack the Ripper.
Then Mr. Warner walked past me on the sidewalk with Ginny, the huge Doberman. The moment she saw me, she pulled my way. She must have remembered the treats I usually kept in my pocket for her.
For a second, I worried he wouldn’t let her come close. But quietly, without a word, he did.
Ginny stepped right up, sniffing my pockets.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I don’t have anything today.”
She licked my hand anyway and leaned into me, asking to be petted.
I stroked her enormous chest. It was like she knew.
Like she could feel my pain. Maybe she wanted to show that she was here for me too, just like I had been there for her when the whole neighborhood called her the beast and ran from her.
“Thank you, sweet girl,” I mumbled to her.
Mr. Warner gently pulled her back. He nodded once and kept walking.
Inside, I locked the door behind me and hung up my coat. I tried not to look in the hallway mirror. But I did anyway.
My brown hair looked like an oily bird’s nest. My eyes looked tired and stared back at me like they had had enough of life itself.
God. I’d lost weight too. And I looked dirty. Absolutely homeless.
But even though a shower sounded amazing, it felt like more than I could handle right now. It would require energy I didn’t have. And even bending down to take off my shoes was asking too much.
Somehow, the shoes came off, and I forced myself up the stairs. Each step felt heavier than the last. God, I was so, so tired. And what if something else happened today? Like Dylan showing up again. Would I just keep putting off basic hygiene forever?
So I forced myself.
I turned on the shower and got in. Then I just stood there under the stream. My legs felt weak, so I sank to the shower floor, sitting there while the hot water ran down my back.
I washed my hair and body, but now getting out felt so trying. Was this what burnout felt like? Depression?
I sat under the water until it slowly turned cold. Then I got out, dried off, and dressed slowly, like a zombie.
I made my way into the kitchen to get a quick bite. Crackers and cheese. Just enough to keep me alive for today.
After that, I walked to the bedroom. I wanted a real bed tonight. Sheets. Pillows. Something that felt normal.
It was barely late afternoon, but exhaustion already suffocated me.
I turned the TV on for background noise. I just couldn’t stop thinking about Lacey and the kids. The same loop, over and over again.
Some crime documentary came on. Something about a crazy neighbor. I left it playing. Maybe watching someone crazier than me would make me feel less alone. Less unhinged.
But the moment I slid under the covers, my eyelids grew heavy. They shut on their own, and the voices from the TV blurred.
Everything faded.
Then darkness.
And deep sleep.