I sat silently in the passenger seat of Bastian's truck as the city rose around us. Seeing Professor Miller's house had been difficult. I needed a hot shower, fresh clothes, and my bed. I blew out a breath, which earned a glance from Bastian. At least I had the night off. Now I was almost relieved that we'd canceled girls night—
Oh, shit! My throat tightened. My hand wrapped around it, massaging. "Bastian," I croaked, "I need my phone back. Where is it?"
I'd forgotten all about it in the aftermath of what had happened. Had Vivi tried to contact me? If she couldn't get through, she'd be worried. I needed to make sure she was safe, too. The voice last night sounded too much like hers.
Bastian sighed. My phone appeared in his hand, and he dropped it in my lap. I tapped the screen. Nothing happened. "You've got to be kidding me!" I looked up at him, jaw clenched. "You couldn't keep it charged when you put it, wherever? It's dead."
He lifted a shoulder. "Not my problem."
I scoffed. "Ridiculous. Whatever. Please, tell me you have a charger in here."
He reached into the center console, keeping his eyes on the road. A cord materialized. The same kind of charger I used. Exhaling, exasperated, I plugged my phone in, waiting for enough juice to turn it on.
Another phone rang. I glanced up. The dash screen illuminated with an incoming call and a name. Christian Morris. Beneath it, in parenthesis was Walton Bureau of Investigation. Shit. Bastian grabbed his phone from the dock and answered, switching it off bluetooth. "Bastian speaking..."
I could just make out the voice on the other end, but not the words. Bastian stiffened, going rigid. His eyes darted towards me, there and gone.
"Shit," he whispered into the phone. "Right...right. Okay. All right. Yeah, she's with me. We're on our way. ETA puts me at ten. Yep...okay. Hang tight." He hung up and set the phone back on its mount.
On the outside he looked calm—too calm.
A sour taste filled my mouth. "Who was that?" I squeaked.
Silence stretched out between us. I glanced over. His jaw tightened. "Walton PD just called in WBI. New homicide reported in Lower East. Glanneg Building."
Glanneg Buil—
"What?!" I hissed. My stomach roiled. "But that's..." My fingers turned to ice. I clenched them together and buried them in my lap, phone forgotten, and stared out the windshield, eyes blurring. Around us, the world slid by, but inside my head, every thought slid out except one. Something had happened in my apartment building.
Bastian's exhale was drawn out. "Let's just get there and see what's going on," he said, voice calm.
"What did they say?" I demanded, rounding on him, half afraid to hear it.
"You sure you want to know?"
I snapped my mouth closed. No, of course I wasn't. But we were going there now anyway, so I was about to find out regardless. "I'd like to be mentally prepared for the shitstorm we're about to walk into."
He nodded. "Your apartment was broken into. Trashed, by the sound of it. They only found it because one of your neighbors didn't show up for work this morning."
"What?!" I gasped. He'd said homicide. Oh, fuck. "Who?" I whispered.
"Peter Gains? You know him?"
A cold ball of sick dropped into my stomach. I clutched it. "Oh, my God," I whispered, then started repeating it over and over.
"I take it you knew him."
"He...he was this...he was just a little old man! How...what...someone did this? How do they know it has anything to do with my apartment? Wait, do they think it was me since I was his neighbor? I was with you all night. You can vouch for that."
"Elle, relax." It was the first time he'd said my name and it made me freeze. "There aren't a lot of details yet, from the sound of it. WBI got called because the scorch marks around the body look similar to the ones they found on..." He trailed off, then his brow furrowed. "Well, it would seem that this absolves you. If both bodies were killed the same way, and you were with me, then it's doubtful you killed Professor Miller."
I screeched in fury, then punched him in the arm, hard. He flinched, glancing at me. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" I demanded. "I told you I didn't kill her."
He shrugged. "I don't rule out a suspect unless I have evidence that proves otherwise."
"I fucking hate you. I hope you know that," I seethed. That he could even still doubt me after our conversation last night and this morning. Ugh! A punch to the arm was too nice. I wanted to punch him again, this time in the fucking balls. "You know, it's times like these I really wish I was one of those lambs you mentioned, so I could fucking rip your face off right now."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
"It's not funny!" I roared.
"All right. All right. Calm down, Sugar. Let's just go see what we need to see, and we'll go from there."
I wasn't going to tell him how angry those words made me. The worst thing he could do right now was tell me to calm down, like I was somehow blowing this out of proportion, when I wasn't. Peter Gains...dead. I thought about all the cookies I'd baked him. Thought about his cute cat I'd borrowed on several occasions when I needed something to cuddle. Oh, shit. I needed to call Vivi.
I picked up my phone. A hand shot out and wrapped around mine, around my phone. "I wouldn't do that right now. This is a federal investigation. You should refrain from contacting anyone, especially on this phone. If it's tracked, and even if it isn't..."
His words slid right out of my mind. I looked down at his hand, covering mine. Gaped at it like an idiot.
He sighed, then squeezed. When he pulled away, my lips parted.
"Just hang tight, Sugar. We'll figure things out." His voice was softer this time. Maybe he could see the tears that started filling my eyes. Or sense my growing distress.
"What did they do to my apartment?" I whispered. He didn't answer.
***
My breaths were shaky as I climbed out of Bastian's truck. The entire street had been closed off. He'd flashed some sort of identification that got us through. I shut the door behind me and gaped at the swarm of uniformed people going in and out of Glanneg Building, my six-story apartment flat in the heart of Lower East. Two blocks down, if I squinted, I could make out the sign for Awake Coffee.
"Here, put this on." Bastian wrapped a leather jacket around my shoulders, probably summoned from thin air. It smelled like him, the cologne he wore, with hints of citrus. I pulled it around me and clenched it tight, using it as an anchor.
"Candy?" A voice to my right had me spinning. In a huddle of wide-eyed watchers, Candice was watching me. We'd always joked about how similar our names were.
The others nearby heard my name and turned. I was acquainted with about half the people in my apartment building. We did mixers on the roof sometimes, that sort of shit. "Thank God you're okay," she said, rushing over. She threw her arms around me and pulled me tight.
"Hey, Candice. I'm good," I mumbled into her shoulder. She was on the taller side, and curvy. "Vivi's out of town so she's fine, too," I added.
Candice lived on the floor below ours.
"I heard someone moving around upstairs," she explained. "I thought you'd come home from work pissed or somethin'. Didn't put two and two together. I should have texted you." That wouldn't have made any difference, but I didn't say anything. "They're saying Peter was murdered," she whispered, holding my shoulders at arm's length to inspect me. I felt Bastian hovering nearby, heard the hushed murmur of his voice, talking to someone. "Can you believe it? In our own apartment building? I thought Lower East was supposed to be safe." Her warm beige skin was pale, dark eyes searching mine. "I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted to move, though. After this, after what happened to your..." She trailed off, eyes darting behind me.
A large, heavy hand fell comfortably on my shoulder.
"Wow..." she whispered, eyes widening as she took in Bastian. "Who's your friend?" She lifted an inquiring eyebrow, then smiled.
"Oh, right. Candice, Bastian. Bastian, Candice." I turned to better see him, dislodging his hand in the process. "Candice lives in the apartment below mine."
"I see." Bastian's eyes narrowed, critical. "Did you already give your statement?"
"Yep," she nodded, blushing, squaring her shoulders. "Told them what I told Candy. Thought she'd come home pissed, was banging around upstairs about three in the morning. Woke my ass up. Should have texted her, but figured she'd had a rough night...working at Vortex and all."
Bastian made a humming noise in the back of his throat, then nodded. Leaning close, too close, his lips brushed the shell of my ear and he spoke in a low voice. "You've been given clearance to enter. You ready?"
I shivered. But not because I was afraid of what came next. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. "Right. Let's go."
We set off, entering through the front doors and taking the elevator to the sixth floor. I shared this floor with Peter, who was across the hall. I couldn't help but wonder, was he the intended target, and my apartment merely collateral? Or was my apartment the target all along, and poor Peter had gotten in the way?
When the elevator doors binged and opened, the landing was swarming with activity. I expected to see a bunch of cops in uniform, but most of them were dressed in polos and slacks, business casual, all wearing lanyards and badges. A male stepped forward, a WBI badge clipped to his pants. "Bastian, there you are. I assume you're Candy Kennedy?" I hesitated then nodded. He'd probably gotten that name from the rental agreement. His eyes flicked to Bastian. "You'd better show her into her apartment, but—" He turned back to me. "Don't touch anything yet. WBI is working on fingerprints."
"Uhm...why is WBI involved in a simple break-in?" I managed to ask. Bastian tensed beside me.
"The body found across the hall had—"
"She doesn't need the details, Christian."
"Oh, I think I need the details, Bastian." I glared at him.
"Later," he said, putting a hand at the base of my spine, guiding me forward. I really should have complained, instead of just letting him lead me away with a low, "Come on."
My heart started to race, palms getting sweaty. Everyone we passed nodded at Bastian. I was too fixated on my open apartment door to notice. It was hanging crooked, clearly kicked in. We moved through the opening. A whine wrenched from my throat. I couldn't move forward.
Behind me, Bastian let out a low whistle, then said, "Keep going, Sugar." His hand pressed more firmly against my lower back, imparting warmth I didn't realize I needed.
"Hey, Bas," someone said, nodding, walking by with a clipboard in hand, right out of my apartment.
"Oh, my God," I squeaked. Tears pooled in my eyes. "This...what...?"
"I'm right here," he said, crowding in close, lips brushing my ear. His thumb rubbed circles at the base of my spine. I didn't really notice. "Everything can be fixed, Sweetheart. All this can be cleaned up. You're safe. It's just...stuff."
"Stuff?!" I dragged in a deep breath, released it, took another. My eyes darted everywhere, over to the table, the shattered bowl of pasta still on the floor, amid the mess of my apartment; it no longer looked out of place. My heart set off at a racing gallop, pounding against my chest, leaving me lightheaded.
Everything was trashed, absolutely destroyed! The table was broken, the couches had been knifed, with stuffing spilling out, our bookcases were broken, books and trinkets scattered around them, the television screen was shattered. A sob escaped my chest. This wasn't someone looking for something. It was intentional.
"Fucking, Luke," I breathed, realization washing over me.
"What's that, Sugar?"
I swallowed, shook my head. It had to be him. Who else would go to so much effort? Who else would purposefully destroy my things? Especially considering I'd gotten away from him last night.
I considered Candice's words. She'd said it happened around 3:00am. Luke had cornered me around 1:00am. That meant, he'd come here afterward.
I started trembling. What if Vivi hadn't gone out of town? What if she'd been here. She could be just like Peter—dead.
A sob broke from my throat, and I clamped a hand over my mouth to stop any more from breaking free. I took a deep breath and held it in, counted to ten, then released it. "He knows where I live," I managed, the realization sinking in. Acid rose in my throat, creeping up to my tongue. A sour taste filled my mouth.
I turned, wide-eyed, searching Bastian's face. He frowned, gaze darting between my apartment and my eyes. "Looks like someone isn't too happy with you, Sugar." He lifted an eyebrow. "This got anything to do with that human trash from last night?"
I gulped and nodded.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. I watched his rings catch the light, my eyes tracing over the inked tattoos on his fingers. "Well, this just got a whole lot more complicated," he said, sighing.
"Why?" I whispered.
He huffed. "I need to go check some things. You can have a look around, like Christian said. But don't touch anything. WBI needs fingerprints."
Even now, I only just noticed that several people were moving around the space, dusting for fingerprints. I groaned. I needed to see my room. Needed to but feared it. Could I make my legs move me down the hall? Was I prepared to see what it looked like?
"You going to be okay for a few minutes?" Bastian's thumb stroked over my T-shirt at the base of my spine, but he didn't pull his hand away. It remained tucked beneath the jacket he'd given me.
"I...yes. Go."
I felt his disappearance as cold rushed in around me, like he'd been heating me, keeping my despair at bay. I moved around the apartment, then down the hall. My bedroom door hung askew, partly removed from its hinges. I winced but didn't enter. The space was near unrecognizable. Most of the art was torn from the walls, scattered. The mattress was cut open, stuffing spilling out. My clothes had been ripped from drawers.
My stomach roiled and I placed a hand over it.
No. I couldn't do this. Not right now. Turning on my heel, I made a beeline out of there, heading across the hall and straight into Peter's apartment. His was swarming with investigators. I marched through the living room towards the hall. My eyes were fixed on the doorway to Peter's bedroom. I strode for it.
"Ah-ah-ah!" Warm hands wrapped around my stomach, pulling me against a firm body. "Not a good idea, Sugar. You don't want to see that."
Bastian's hands splayed over me, tightening. I held still a moment, let the feel of him ground me. Exhaling, my shoulders fell. "I want to see it, Bastian. I need to. Peter...he was my neighbor. If this is...if this is my fault—"
He sucked in a breath. "None of this is your fault. Did you ask someone to kill Peter?"
"What?! No!"
"Then it isn't your fault. Hear me?" He lowered his head until his lips brushed my ear, sending shivers down my neck. "If I hear shit like that out of your mouth again, we're going to have words, understand?"
I swallowed but nodded, then said, "Please, let me go."
He sighed, then released me.
I stepped forward into chaos. Peter's body was on the floor of his bedroom, limbs splayed out. There was blood seeping into the carpet, spattered on the walls. His night shirt was long, but it didn't fully cover his legs. Bile rose up in my throat. I whimpered.
A hand came around my stomach, splaying open. Bastian crowded in behind me. "Seen enough?" he bit out. "You shouldn't be here."
I didn't answer. My eyes were fixed on Peter's body, unblinking. There was a bullet hole in his forehead. But it was the darkened markings on the floor, and one across his torso paired with the cut of a knife, that had me whispering, "Scorch marks."
"I see that. Why do you think WBI was called in?"
A tremor passed through me. Bastian's hand tightened on my stomach. "Come on, Sugar. Out of here. You've seen enough."
He pulled me away and I let him, trying to get Peter's face out of my mind, his open mouth, glassy eyes, wide with fear. What struck me as weird, though, were the scorch marks, both on the floor and his body. The one on his body was paired with a knife, like it had been on fire when it cut him.
I chewed on my bottom lip as Bastian led me from the apartment. At some point, his hand had taken mine. It was a testament to how rattled I was that I hadn't even noticed.
"You're not staying here, for obvious reasons," he growled, turning me to face him, dropping my hand to take my shoulders.
"I...there are a few friends I can call."
"Nope. I'm not okay with that. Get some clothes, whatever other necessities you'll need for the foreseeable future. The investigators will be okay with that. There's plenty of other stuff they can grab prints from." I opened and closed my mouth. "I'm taking you home, Sugar. With me."