Page 55 of Half the Summer's Night

The dread melts away, most of it. For a minute, my mind’s a whir—what the hell do I say to her that won’t let her know about the obstruction of justice I did the other day?

Or the murderer I almost-fucked instead of reporting to the cops.

“That’s sweet,” I finally say.

Ms. Staunton pushes her glasses up on the top of her head, her face a mask of motherly concern. “How are you doing?” she asks. “Are you handling everything okay?”

I breathe out and look over at the sunflowers. “As well as I can be,” I say carefully before taking a drink of my watered-down coffee. “Do they, um, know anything?”

I risk glancing over at Ms. Staunton even though I’m terrified my face will give everything away. But she just shakes her head, looking sad and a little angry.

“No,” she says sharply. “Nothing. The Rosado police are as incompetent as the ones in Magnolia.”

I can’t disagree, even though it certainly works out in my favor.

“No leads?” I say, hoping I don’t sound too suspicious.

“Nothing,” Ms. Staunton says darkly. “Absolutely nothing at the scene, from what I’ve been told. None of the cameras show anything. All the potential suspects they brought in have solid alibis.” She shakes her head. “I don’t like it, knowing that killer is out there.”

He’s not, I think, but I take a long drink of my coffee to stop myself from saying anything.

“Anyway!” Ms. Staunton takes a deep breath and smiles at me, bright and dazzling. “Like I said, I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you haven’t—“ Her voice wobbles a little, belying her smile. “Haven’t had any odd experiences.”

Despite the sun’s baking heat, ice races down my spine. “What do you mean?”

Ms. Staunton’s smile widens a bit more, enough that it starts to feel forced. “I just want to make sure you’re safe,” she says. “We don’t know who did that to Olivia?—”

“And you think he’s going to come after me next,” I say flatly.

Which is fair. Because he fucking did.

Ms. Staunton barely flinches, though. “I just want you to be safe,” she repeats. “You live alone out here, not a lot of neighbors—” She gestures toward the cemetery.

“Well, not living ones,” I say wryly.

Ms. Staunton doesn’t laugh, though. “I saw you have a camera on your front porch. That’s good.”

Anxiety knots in my belly. Images flash through my head: Nameless standing over the body of Olivia’s killer. Nameless watching me in the shadows of the cemetery. Nameless stepping into the light of the front porch.

“Did something happen?” I say carefully. “Something I should know about?”

Ms. Staunton gives me another one of those strained smiles. “No,” she says, and I’m not completely sure I believe her. “But—I’m worried. Worried this ties back to what happened when you were sixteen.”

My heart pounds furiously. “Why? You said they didn’t know anything.”

“They don’t.” Ms. Staunton’s face softens a little. “Let’s just call it an attorney’s hunch, okay? I feel like—like something’s missing here. Something that should be obvious.”

Another blast of ice down my spine. I go to sip on my coffee, but it’s all gone. For a single, dizzying moment, I consider telling her everything. She’s a lawyer, after all. If anyone could keep me out of jail, it’s her.

Keepmeout of jail. But what about Nameless?

The idea should be absurd. But I think about his soft, gentle kisses and the way he edged me into oblivion. His gloved hands on my skin. His dark eyes watching me from behind the face of a monster.

So I don’t say a word.

“I appreciate you stopping by,” I tell her. “And if anything happens—you’ll be the first to know.”

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