Chapter 4

Peyton

Today was actually a pretty good day.

I'd graduated, I'd finally completed something worthy and good, something that was going to help make my future better. In August I'd be able to start as a speech pathologist for the school district where I was working, and that paycheck of mine would bump up nice enough that I might even be able to afford living on my own, without a nightmare roomie. Things were looking promising.

I'd bumped into Nolan, my ex, at graduation. I'd sort of been hoping to avoid that, but it was mostly fine. A little awkward when he'd hesitantly asked me out again, not for the first time since I'd broken things off, but we'd moved past it pretty quick and congratulated each other on our graduation, yada yada. It was sweet, I really do wish him well.

And then, it was party time. Lisa and I went absolutely wild in celebration tonight, and now I was feeling buzzed and grinning from ear to ear. Ready for a nice, quiet moment to myself—if Chloe wasn't still puking in the toilet—before collapsing on my sweet, sweet bed. I took my ass to the convenience store across my apartment building for some horrible, satisfying snacks first, and then finally made my way in.

I stumbled up the stairs to my third-floor apartment feeling great. The alcohol made everything just a little bit fuzzy without making me feel sick or stupid, unlike so many of my now-former classmates—including Lisa and Nolan—I'd left behind at the club. I was a college fucking graduate! Saying those words hadn't gotten old yet.

Nothing could ruin my good mood. Not even a puking Chloe.

My place was dark as I stumbled in, which I hoped meant Chloe was either gone or dead asleep. If I didn't see her, it wouldn't be as bad if I accidentally touched her worn panties stuffed inside the sofa, or dirty dishes inside the fridge. Yeah, inside the fridge.

The place was quiet—eerily quiet—which was unusual since Chloe never turned off the TV in the living room. It was as if she couldn't stand complete and total silence. Now that I had it, though, I felt a little uneasy.

I crept to my room, making as little noise as possible just in case she was home and decided to come out and chat, or puke on me and tell me it was fine since I was going to shower eventually, anyway. I changed out of my graduation dress, tossing it, as well as my bra and panties, in the hamper. Then I slipped into a pair of lavender pajamas thin enough to keep me cool against this wicked heat.

I headed towards the kitchen for a nightcap. Or two.

But as soon as I hit the hallway again, I immediately regretted going barefoot, because, of course, Chloe left something gross and wet on the floor. I took a few more steps forward and finally smacked on the hall light, grumbling angrily to myself. It better not be puke.

I looked down as light illuminated the hall, noticing thick red smears were everywhere in a swirling pattern from the end of the hall where Chloe's room was to the other end.

My hazy mind stilled.

What in the fuck?I was frozen in place, too shocked to turn on more lights or even move. Was that…blood?

You can do this, Peyton. You have to move. I inhaled deeply and was hit with the metallic scent that I was surprised I didn't notice earlier. Breathing through my mouth rather than my nose, I put one foot in front of the other, trying desperately to ignore the way thick, red liquid squished between my toes. I reached inside my bedroom, clicked the door quietly shut behind me, and grabbed the phone that charged on my desk.

I barely heard the dispatcher over the pounding of my heart. "9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"Um, shit, I don't know," I muttered as quietly as I could get away with, suddenly glad I'd entered sneakily to avoid Chloe, in case someone dangerous was still in the apartment somewhere. "I came home from my graduation, and I think I walked through blood. I think it's my roommate's blood. I don't know. I don't know what else would be red and pooled all the way across the hall, it's—someone needs to get here. I… I think I'm alone, but I'm not actually sure."

"Ma'am, can you locate your roommate?"

"I can't…" I shook my head, realizing my hands were shaking. "I can't go in her room. What if she's dead? What if her murderer is hiding in there? I can't, please just send the police and the paramedics. Please. I can't. I just…"

"Alright, ma'am, there's no need to panic, I'm right here with you. If you're not sure you're safe, I'm going to need you to remove yourself from the premises as quietly as you can. Can you climb out your window?"

"No, third floor."

"Alright, just head out the closest exit."

I nodded, feeling my heart in my throat, and began walking back out into the hall.

"Ma'am, can you hear me?"

"Y-yes," I whispered as I opened my door. "I'm leaving."

I took one step forward and then another and another. And there, as I crossed the living room to head for the door, I saw her. Between the coffee table and the sofa, hidden from sight of the front door, was Chloe's body.

"Oh shit," I whispered, my eyes wide with shock and my voice hoarse. She lay there with dead eyes wide open. There was blood everywhere. "Oh my god."

"Ma'am," the operator's voice said. "Ma'am, could you tell me what you see?"

But I couldn't quite get the words out, and I turned and ran out the door, not stopping until I was out of the building and huddling in the brightly lit 7-Eleven across the street.

***

What seemed like an eternity later, I was back in the apartment, which was now filled with crime scene technicians and police. Lots and lots of police, and a few detectives who kept shooting rapid-fire questions at me.

"You didn't see her when you first walked in?" The skepticism in the younger detective's voice was clear.

"No. I wasn't sure if she was here or not, and I wanted to avoid another run-in. I didn't turn the lights on."

He perked up at that. "You two didn't get along?"

"No. She has terrible hygiene and cleaning habits and we fought about it often," I said honestly, before noticing his expression. "But it never got physical."

He scribbled something in his stupid notepad. "Do you know who would have done this?"

I shook my head. "We weren't close. She used to bring guys back all the time, but that stopped a while back." I rattled off my alibi, giving Lisa's and Nolan's names as witnesses to my whereabouts, suddenly very glad of all the digital surveillance everywhere these days. But the young blond guy kept angling his questions as if he expected I'd done something suss, and after the stress of the whole situation, I finally snapped at him.

"Look, I didn't like her, but I didn't do this. I wouldn't just murder someone."

"Yeah, and why is that?"

"Because first of all, now that I've graduated and classes are over, I can work more hours and find a place of my own. Why would I wait until now, if I was gonna off her?"

"Maybe you're not very smart," he sneered.

My hackles rose. "Okay," I growled in response at the cynical asshole. "If that's how we're going to play this, I'm not answering any more questions."

His brows shot up and his partner, a slightly older woman with long black braids, who had been silent up until now, grunted.

"Alright, Jackson, I think that's enough." She turned her gaze towards me. "We're just covering our bases, ma'am."

"Yeah, and I just found my fucking roommate dead." I shook my head. "How am I ever going to get that sight out of my head?"

Her expression softened. "Do you have someplace to sleep tonight? This will take until morning, at least and until all our preliminary investigations are complete, this apartment is an active crime scene."

"Yeah, I'll call my best friend and see if she's home yet." Knowing Lisa, she was either already enjoying a post-orgasmic sleep or still bumping and grinding the night away. "Can I, um, get some of my things?"

The detectives stared at each other as if they were communicating silently and then they both shook their heads. The female detective came to stand beside me. "Ma'am I'm afraid not. But once the crime scene techs have dusted for prints, we can let you back in to collect some belongings."

My hands shook as my reality started to sink in. "Not even a pair of sneakers?"

The detectives looked at one another again, before the female one said, "Okay."

I went to shove on a pair, and then suddenly remembered what I'd walked through. "Can I go to the bathroom and wash up?"

The detective shook her head. "Sorry, but no, it's a mess in there."

"Oh. Okay," I said numbly and shoved on the shoes, trying not to think about what was on my feet, and stood.

"We'll let you know when the place has been cleared. In the meantime, we might have more questions," she said, and handed me her card. "Call if you think of anything that might help us figure out who did this to Chloe."

"Yeah, sure." I accepted the card and shoved it into my purse with a nod and left the apartment, where it felt as if dozens of sets of eyes were fixed on me.

The night air was cooler now, but still too warm, and it only made the night more ominous as I walked to my car, looking over my shoulder in search of ghosts and shadows. I practically dove inside and locked the doors. I needed to get my shit together, to get my bearings before I called my best friend and made her worry. Thank fuck I had a spare charger in my car as the cops wouldn't let me take anything, and I had an old hoodie thrown on the passenger seat and my gym gear. But other than that, all I had were the literal clothes on my back.

I fished out my phone and held it in my hands, staring at the screen like it was the enemy. When the screen lit up and the phone buzzed, I jumped, the phone falling to the floor and sliding under the seat.

"Son of a bitch." I bent over to reach for it. It took a few attempts, but finally my fingers landed on it, and I pulled the phone forward, hoping it was Lisa calling to tell me about her hookup.

The message was from an unknown number, and it was fucking terrifying.

That dead girl should have been you. It was supposed to be you.

Holy shit. It was supposed to be me?

My heart raced as I realized that I couldn't go to Lisa's apartment, not if this was true. What if they came after me, and I put her in harm's way just for being near me? My fingers were already scrambling for the door handle so I could race back out towards the cops, when I paused, thinking of that stupid blond detective and his tired, barely interested partner.

Cops weren't able to save Mom from her constant abuse. They couldn't do anything at all, not until the point Dad finally beat her to death and they could lock him up.

I couldn't trust the police, not unless I was ready to die first and wait for them to clean up the mess.

I had to figure something else out.

Fast.