“Yes,” she said, getting out of the car and slamming the door firmly behind her. She needed to do this.
The sky was ominously gray, and the air felt thick and electrified. Something made a scraping sound behind her, and the hair on her arms stood on end. “Did you hear that?”
Chase stopped short and listened. “No . . .”
Then something fluttered in the woods that bordered the lot. Spencer stared hard at a splotch between the trees. “H-hello?” she stammered. Nothing.
Chase’s swallow was audible in the eerie silence. “It was probably a rabbit. Or a deer.”
Spencer nodded shakily. She tiptoed up the corner unit’s front walk and peered through the window, but it was too dark to tell what—or who—was inside. She inspected the front door. There were no scuffs, no footprints, and no welcome mat. Then, sliding on the gloves Chase gave her—they didn’t want to leave prints—she touched the metal doorknob tentatively, as if it were wired to set off a bomb. Her skin tingled. She glanced over her shoulder again toward the realtor’s office. Thunder rumbled. The wind gusted. A few raindrops landed on Spencer’s head.
“Excuse me?”
Spencer yelped and spun around. A man walking a dog approached them down the sidewalk. He seemed older, a bit stooped. The collie’s tongue lolled out of its mouth. Spencer couldn’t tell if the dog was on a leash or not.
The man gazed from Spencer to Chase. “What are you doing?” he asked sharply.
Spencer’s mind went blank. “Uh, we thought our friend lived here.”
“No one lives there,” the man said, squinting at the house. “That place has been vacant since they built it.”
It didn’t seem like he was lying. It also didn’t seem like he had any idea who they were—he was just an old guy out for a walk with his dog. “Have you ever seen anyone coming and going out of this place?” she dared to ask. “Anyone at all?”
“Nope, not even a light on,” the man said. “But it’s private property. You should move along.” He gave them another long look, and for a moment, Spencer wondered if she’d trusted him too quickly. But then he whistled at his dog, and the dog stood. As they passed, the dog stiffened and turned its head toward the realtor’s office across the street. Spencer sucked in her stomach. Did the dog sense a presence? But then it loped off and lifted its leg on a clump of dandelions. The man and dog disappeared, all footsteps and jingling tags.
Spencer waited until the man was a safe distance away before turning to look at Chase. “This was definitely the unit in the photo.”
“Do you think Ali knew we found it?” Chase whispered, his eyes wide. And then, suddenly, a terrified look crossed his face. “Do you think it was possible that Ali planted that video? Maybe she was never here in the first place. Or maybe she sent us here to hurt us.”
Spencer couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to her. She darted off the porch, certain something horrible was about to happen. It didn’t, but for a split second, she swore she could hear someone snickering. She squinted hard at the trees, then peered worriedly at the realtor’s office, desperate to make out Ali’s shape at the window. What if she was close? What if she realized what they’d discovered—and she was furious?
Spencer took Chase’s hand. “Let’s get out of here,” she said hurriedly, darting back to the car. She hoped, suddenly, that they hadn’t made a horrible mistake.
3
HANNA LOSES IT
An hour later, Hanna Marin and her boyfriend, Mike Montgomery, sat in Hanna’s Prius, in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the way from the hospital back to Rosewood. Mike fiddled with the radio, first choosing a rap station, then flipping to sports. He let out a sigh and stared out the window, looking just as exhausted as Hanna felt. He’d hung around for a long time at the hospital last night, partly for Noel and partly for Hanna. Hanna wasn’t even sure when he’d left, but she was pretty certain it had been after midnight, and he’d showed up again shortly after Noel had woken up this morning.
Hanna’s phone, which was connected to the car’s Bluetooth system, bleated loudly. She pressed the ANSWER button on the center console without looking at the caller ID. “Hanna?” a familiar voice rang out. “It’s Kelly Crosby from the burn clinic.”
“Oh.” Hanna’s finger hovered over the HANG UP button on the steering wheel. She could feel Mike staring at her. “Uh, hi.”
“I was just calling to let you know that there’s no need for you to come in next week,” Kelly went on. “The clinic is closed until further notice because of the . . . murder.”
The murder. Hanna swallowed hard.
“I also wanted to let you know that Graham Pratt’s funeral will be tomorrow,” Kelly went on. “You were such good friends, I thought you might be interested.”