Page 90 of Hide From Me

“Shit,” I mutter, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder as I scramble to hold my balance. My mind spirals—either my neighbor died on the porch and Jack found the body when he checked my place, or something happened to my parents. Why Jack would be the first to know, I don’t know. Unless...

“When I got to your place, the door was cracked. At first, I freaked out because I couldn’t find the key under the mat—but then I remembered you moved it. It’s still tucked above the door.”

My throat closes, and the bristles of the broom blur in front of me.

“The cops are saying forced entry. I checked your money jar, jewelry, electronics—everything’s still there. They’re ruling out robbery.”

I need him to shut up. I love him, but I need him to shut the fuck up.

“Someone broke in?” is all I can get out, my voice vibrating from the tremble in my chest.

“There’s no evidence of him being there, so the cops are saying they’ll take a report, but—”

There is evidence, though.

“Just get them away from my house, Jack.” My voice is low, clipped, as I finally land a hit and the spider crunches beneath the broom. A full-body shiver shoots through me, but I hold it back.

“Ray—”

“Look, I’ve got to go. Thank them and get them gone. Talk to you later.” I hang up before he can argue.

Aren’t vacations supposed to be relaxing? Because right now, I feel like I’m in some kind of personal psychological boot camp.

I stare at the broom, debating whether to check if the spider is actually dead or just playing possum. Finally, I do a slow gymnast split to the floor, lifting it with the tip of my toe. Yep. Smushed.

God, I hate spiders. But watching its guts smear on the tissue makes me feel like a monster.

“I’m gonna clean you up now,” I whisper to the spider like it can hear me. I grab the closest tissue, fighting back a shudder and the dry gag building in my throat as I scrape up its crushed little body. “Sorry,” I mutter again, covering my mouth with one hand like the apology might muffle the nausea.

I rush to the front door, dodging the same goddamn bee that’s been terrorizing me since we arrived, and crouch at the flowerbed, sifting through the dirt until I find a stick.

“Look, I’m not good at this kind of thing, so this is the best you’re gonna get, little dude,” I grumble as I dig a small hole and drop the tissue in. Then I rub my palm on my pants, trying to scrub away the gross feeling that won’t go away.

Why am I talking to it?

I stare down at the dirt I just swept over the hole. Why did I bury it? It’s a spider. It didn’t have a name. It didn’t have feelings. It’s not even human. Still, I can’t shake the image of it having a whole life here—maybe even creepy little spider kids and a long-legged wife. And now they’re going to spend the rest of their lives stalking innocent people in revenge for what I did.

“Damn it, why’d you have to scare me?” I whisper to the ground like it can answer me.

“Don’t tell me you’re burying a body. That’s the worst fucking spot to put one.”

I scream.

Moe’s voice startles me so badly I jump to my feet, whirling around, eyes wild.

“That’s not funny!” I shriek.

But he’s already laughing. Full chest laugh. Hand to his heart like I just gave him the best damn punchline he’s ever heard. The sun catches his hair just right, making the red brighter, the brown softer. A single silver chain bounces against a simple gray shirt and tan cargo pants. I try to be mad, but instead I find myself licking my lips.

“I know, I know,” Moe says through his grin, stepping closer. His fingers curl into my shirt, tugging me gently toward him. “But seriously. Was it a body?”

My stomach knots. My hands shove hard at his chest, harder than necessary.

“For your information, itwasa body. Now tell Creeper you’re sorry for insulting his death,” I growl, clenching my jaw. The words are out before I can stop them.

And instantly, I hate myself.

Why the fuck did I say that?