Page 65 of Dead Love

“Vincent,” I said.

“What is it?” he asked.

We locked eyes, and for that moment, I thought about his future. The funeral home. His house. His studio. His dogs. I was forcing him to leave all of that behind.

Just like he had forced me.

The door to the lobby opened with a loud smack. The impressive thuds of hard boots crashed in the lobby. I ran back into the office. Familiar voices reverberated down the hallway.

“Good to see you, Erickson,” my father, Sheriff Mike, bellowed. “We got an interesting tip that the Echo Killer might have left some evidence here.”

“Mind if we look?” Andrew asked.

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” Vincent said.

“Look in the cemetery, then,” my father said to Andrew.

My heart pounded in my chest as I watched from the office door. Sheriff Mike made small talk with the couple Vincent had been helping, talking about his campaign and how much he missed me. They bowed their heads solemnly.

Andrew emerged from the back door.

“Three empty graves, Sheriff. Like he was planning on burying people soon.”

“I run a funeral home,” Vincent said under his breath.

“How many bodies are you burying today?” Sheriff Mike asked. He smacked Vincent on the back. “Busy day, huh? But it doesn’t look like many people are here for the service.”

“It seems that you’re anticipating the deaths,” Andrew said.

Vincent shook his head. “That’s not evidence.”

“But this is,” Andrew said. He lifted a small bag out of his pocket, with a little green pill. “Took the liberty of going through your office. This little pill right here is responsible for a lot of deaths.”

“One way or another, we’re going to bring down the Echo Killer,” my father added, a gleam in his eye.

But I had been in Vincent’s office all morning. Andrew hadn’t been in there yet. And I hadn’t seen any strange pills in his office. I had checked! All he had were random papers and art supplies.

What was this?

“You remember I told you I saw him at 52 Peaks,” Andrew said to my father.

“Youwere at 52 Peaks,” Vincent growled.

“I told you I was working for the sheriff.”

My father hung his chin low. “I have enough reasons to believe that you’re our primary suspect for the Echo murders.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Vincent said. “There isn’t any proof.”

The urge to help him fought with my desire to run away, to forget all about this—my parents, this place, even Vincent—to run away and never come back. To not feel any of it. I erupted from the office, not knowing what to do.

Andrew’s eyes immediately fell on me. “Miss Kora!” he shouted. “You’re all right!”

But his words were false. He had known I was here for a long time. And now, he was acting grateful that I was alive.

My father ran toward me and put his arms around me, his embrace hollow. “You’ve been here this whole time?” he asked. He released me and shot an icy glare at Vincent. “You were hiding my daughter?”

“Tell them the truth,” Vincent said, staring at me. “Those nights when the victims died? I was with Kora.” He nodded at me. “Tell them what happened, Kora. I was always with you.”