Page 92 of Seven
She let me help her.
Back in the living room, I shoved the letter into my bag.
Outside, it was fully dark. The porch light flickered as I walked to my car. The air was thick and cold, the kind of cold that stuck to your skin even after you got inside. I wondered why the weather this spring had been sostrange. It should have been getting warmer but the temperature had dropped.
I was two seconds from pulling out of the driveway when my phone buzzed. I put it into speaker mode.
"Hey, stranger," Katrina said.
"What's up?" My sister hardly ever called me.
"So I talked to Mom about the accident again," she began, her tone brisk, efficient. "She mentioned some legal thing, but I couldn't get any information out of her. She swears you're handling it. Jazz and I are both out of town and we can't come over. Is she okay?"
"She's fine." I stared out at the street. "She's just shaken. Don't worry about it, Kat. I've got it covered."
"What do you mean?" Katrina wasn't a person you could easily placate. "It's Mom we're talking about."
"It's under control," I said, a little sharper than I intended. "Really. I have an attorney friend. She's already taking care of it, so you don't need to do anything." Again, the lie came out easily.
There was a beat of silence on the line. "Since when are you the one in charge?" she asked.
Since I'm the one who lives close by, I wanted to say. Instead, I supplied, "I'm not in charge. I just happen to know someone who can help. She said it's an easy fix. Please, I beg you, don't stress Mom out right now even more. She's already on her last nerve. If we continue to discuss this, it'll just have her blood pressure go haywire. And we don't want too many cooks stirring the pot. Let's just have my friend deal with the case."
Katrina sighed loudly. "You should have called Rachel, sis."
"I will take care of this," I insisted, my voice firmer than usual. Rachel's seniority didn't mean shit. She was always busy and she lived three hours away from the city.
"If you say so."
"I promise, I'm on it."
"You need to keep me updated. I'll go see Mom when I'm back."
"Just make sure not to upset her, okay?"
"Alright," she growled into the phone, and I ended the call after saying a quick goodnight.
Then I forced myself to breathe, started the engine, and let the night swallow me up on my way to my apartment.
I took the long way home, just to make sure I wasn't being followed. The city was half dead at this hour as I veered from one side street to another, circling blocks.
When I pulled into the parking lot of my complex, I killed the engine and just sat in the driver's seat. The adrenaline from the events of the last few days had burned down to a numb ache. My head throbbed behind the eyes. My chest was tight. I watched the rearview for a full minute before I dared to move.
The elevator up to my floor was out. It'd been two days since someone broke it by trying to move a bed. Idiots needed to use the freight but I guess they didn't want to bother with taking the furniture to the other end of the building.
I took the stairs, one hand on the pepper spray, the other hand locked into a fist while my bag dangled from my shoulder.
At my door, I paused to catch my breath. Then I unlocked it and stepped inside.
Everything looked normal. The under-counter light from the kitchen I left on splashed over the tile and hit the edge of the kitchen table. My Adidas sneakers were where I'd kept them, curled together like two dead cats. The air was chilly, and there was a familiar low hum from the fridge.
I kicked the door closed and let my bag drop to the floor. I stood for a second in the semi-darkness before tossing my keys in the bowl.
Only then did I notice the shadow across the way, sitting on the couch, bleeding into the background.
I stopped breathing, and my whole body went cold.
My reaction was instant. I dashed over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the first thing I saw—a chef's knife from the holder.
