Page 284 of What We Bury

My shift ends at four. I hang up my apron and tell Jamie I’ll see him tomorrow. He waves back, distracted, typing on his laptop. When I step outside, Milo has taken over from Knox. He’s leaning against his car with his arms crossed and his sunglasses on, looking like a catalog model who got lost on his way to a photoshoot.

“Kitten,” he says. “How was work?”

“Uneventful. You?”

“Sold forty-seven dollars’ worth of nails and a leaf blower that I’m pretty sure the guy is going to use to just blow himself. So, standard Saturday.” He opens the passenger door for me. “Knox said you wanted to swing by your apartment?”

“I do. I’m running out of clothes and underwear.”

“Oh, kitten! You should have said. I’m happy to do your washing for you.”

“Thanks, Milo. But that doesn’t solve the problem. I’m running low because you guys keep tearing them off me since you can’t wait two seconds to take them off.”

Milo grins. “In our defense, your pussy is like Christmas morning. Tearing the wrapping is expected.” His teeth gleam. The sun makes his hair look like it has streaks of red in it. It’s criminal how hot he is for someone who can’t make it through breakfast without forty-two side quests.

“Let’s be efficient,” I say, sliding into the passenger seat. “Hit the apartment, grab some essentials, and get back to the house before Holden gets home.”

“Speaking of Holden, has he asked you to go over all those social media images from the party? See if you recognize anyone or if we can narrow down who this Stephen guy is.”

I pick at my cuticle. “He has. I just haven’t had the headspace for it.”

“Fair. But it’s kinda important, kitten. We need to figure out who the bad guy is.”

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry. I’ll sit down with him tonight, okay? But I won’t be doing anything if we don’t hurry up and go get my stuff.”

“Oh, pushy. I like it.” He starts the car and glances over, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose just enough for me to see his eyes. “You’re so eager to run basic errands, it’s almost like you don’t want to be at your apartment.”

“Would you want to be there after someone put a noose up for you?”

“Maybe not. But then I love all forms of rope play, but especially the ones that look like the Kool-Aid Man is about to burst out of the wall and fuck everyone’s shit up.”

I snort. “That’s a weird visual, Milo.”

He shrugs and starts the engine.

The apartment looks the same as it always does—small, cluttered, unassuming. I try not to look at the light fixture in the living room and fail miserably.

Milo does his sweep before he lets me fully enter—windows, locks, closets, under the bed. He’s checking the bathroom when I hear it.

Crying. It’s quiet and muffled, coming from Amy’s bedroom.

I look at Milo. He’s heard it too. He raises an eyebrow and I shake my head. Whatever this is, Amy won’t want an audience.

I knock on her door. “Amy? It’s me.”

A pause. A sniffle. “Come in.”

She’s on her bed, cross-legged, still in her pajamas. Her eyes are puffy, her hair’s in a messy knot, and there’s a box of tissues beside her that’s seen heavy action.

By the look of her, she hasn’t left this room all day.

“Hey,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What’s going on?”

“Tyler and I broke up.”

The words come out wobbly, like she’s been saying them to herself all day trying to make them stick.

“What happened?”