Chapter 18

EIGHTEEN

THE DOORS ARE LOCKED. But that didn’t stop Lahela from walking to her front and back door and checking again. She really thought knowing who was behind the stalking would give her back some sense of control or courage, but she was still fighting off the chill of reality that her coworker— her friend —was responsible.

It doesn’t make sense . That’s what was on repeat in her head on the Uber ride to her house. While she showered and changed. And when she got the kind call from Principal Maestros that a substitute had already been called in for her and that she was to take the rest of the week off.

Exhausted, she dropped onto her couch and stared out her front window. Her eyes inadvertently found the still-charred spot on the porch. How did I get here? The ache for home welled up inside her again.

The situation with the stalker—Nancy—was over. There was no need to leave, was there? Lahela chewed on her lip. There’s not, so why am I afraid to stay?

Her attention shifted to the photo on her coffee table. It was of her, Daphne, Nash, and Briggs at their first taco night. It had been taken a week after Trevor broke up with her. She’d been a wreck, only functioning because she had a classroom of second graders depending on her to show up every day. And yet, in that week, Daphne had come over with movies and dinner. Nash had had cookies delivered to her. And Briggs ... he had surprised her by showing up at her house with a list of chores she’d never given him. He changed her air filters in the house and the batteries in her smoke detectors, tightened the bolts on the front porch banister, and replaced the fluorescent lights in the laundry room. And when he was done with all of that ... he mowed her yard.

With her world flipped upside down and her relationship upended, her friends had showed up. They allowed her to process the breakup and the fears that she’d made a huge mistake moving to Texas. Instead of running away, they walked her through it.

Daphne smiled up from the photo and Lahela swiped at a tear. She needed to fix things with her friend. Apologize. Daph had been trying to help and probably did the most responsible thing by reaching out to Kekoa.

Lahela frowned. It was weird her big brother hadn’t called or stormed her front door yet though. That could mean only one thing—Kekoa was busy and probably hadn’t received Daphne’s message yet. Good. That gave Lahela a chance to call and let him know everything was okay before he overreacted.

She went to her kitchen where she’d left her cell phone on the counter. The pages of takeout menus flapped from a sudden cool breeze. The door to her laundry room was open, and the cold air was coming from the window Nancy broke last night.

A chill skirted down her spine, but Lahela shook it off. She found a piece of cardboard on the ground outside the door that led to her backyard. It looked like it had been used to temporarily seal the window. Shards of glass still littered the area, so she grabbed a broom and dustpan to sweep it up. What had Nancy been thinking?

Sunlight glanced off a large piece of glass lying in the grass, and Lahela bent over to pick it up. She dropped it when the sharp edges sliced into her hand and fingers.

“Lahela.”

She screamed, backing into her door as she lifted her gaze to see Trevor standing there. “W-what are you doing here?”

Trevor’s eyes moved to her hand. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t. Bright red blood dripped from her hand, and she clutched it to her chest and backed toward her house.

“It’s not.” Trevor started to take a step toward her.

“Stop!”

He did, looking startled by her shout. He stepped back and lifted up his palms. “I just came by here to check on you. The police came to my house and told me about Nancy. I had no idea.”

Lahela wanted to believe him, but after everything that had happened, could she trust him? The hammering in her ribs said no. At least not until she heard the whole story from Detective Morgan. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. You’re really bleeding.”

Blood had already soaked into her shirt. “I just need to get a towel and put pressure on it.” She took a step back, but her heel caught the edge of the doorstep, and she lost her balance, falling to her bottom.

“Lahela!”

“Don’t touch her!”

Trevor froze at the gravelly voice behind him. He looked back, and his shoulders relaxed a bit when he saw it was just her neighbor. “I was just trying to help her.”

“You’ve already done—” Mr. Dunn’s gaze landed on her bloody shirt and hand. He whipped his head around, his eyes glaring, and stabbed a finger at Trevor. “What did you do?”

“Nothing, man. She cut her hand on the glass.”

“I’m calling the police.”

“No, Mr. Dunn.” Lahela pushed herself to her feet with her good hand. “He’s telling the truth.”

Mr. Dunn narrowed his eyes on Trevor. “You need to leave.”

She didn’t know what it was about Mr. Dunn’s tone, but it pushed Trevor back a few more steps.

Trevor looked upset and scared. And like he wanted to say something else but changed his mind. He gave her a nod and then disappeared around the corner of her house.

“Let me get a look at that.” Mr. Dunn was at her side. He carefully pulled her cut hand from the shirt, and she looked away. “Looks like you might need stitches.”

“Really?”

“Come on.” He closed her back door and then started leading her around the house. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

“No, that’s okay. I can drive.” Probably. And bleed out in my car. That thought made her feel a little lightheaded.

“Nonsense. You’re hurt and I’m going to take care of you.”

Briggs’s words about accepting help returned, and she relaxed. “Thanks.”

They walked across the street and up his driveway, and Lahela paused. “Why is Janine’s car covered?”

“Oh”—he opened his front door and ushered her inside—“it’s supposed to rain today.”

Lahela had never been inside Mr. Dunn’s house, and it was as she expected. The front was divided into a living room and formal dining room. The furnishings looked like they were probably the same ones his wife had chosen when they were married, and the house had a musty smell that tickled her nose.

A painting hung over the mantel of a man, a woman, and a young girl. Assuming it was a family portrait, Lahela had no idea Mr. Dunn had a daughter.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

Lahela smiled but wasn’t sure if he was referring to his wife or the girl. “Is that your daughter?”

He handed her a thin towel for her hand and nodded. “Crystal. She was the light of our lives.”

Was? Lahela looked around the living room, pausing on each of the framed photos, and noticed there weren’t any with Crystal older than she looked in the painting. Eight or nine maybe.

“I miss her every single day. Both of them.” Mr. Dunn’s voice turned strange, and an uncomfortable feeling settled over her. “You remind me of Crystal.”

In the painting, Crystal had short blond hair, blue eyes, and the same fair skin as her parents. Nothing about them looked the same.

“Obviously, you don’t look like her, but she had a bubbly personality. Like you. Always friendly.” He swallowed and looked at Lahela, but those blue eyes that always seemed fatherly were empty now.

Lahela’s hand began to throb. A pounding that kept cadence with the eerie pounding of her pulse. She moved toward his door, suddenly anxious to get out of there. “Uh, I think I can drive myself to the hospital.”

But Mr. Dunn’s hand was around her arm, squeezing tightly, and she found it weird that the thing she noticed as he dragged her backward was that the blue sky outside didn’t look at all like it was going to rain.