Page 44

MERIT

I bump Kyra with my hip. “Thanks for letting me bum your couch for the past two months.”

“How many times are you gonna thank me? It’s a couch, not a suite at the Four Seasons.” She watches as a mover carries one of the last boxes out of the store. “I still can’t believe this is the end.”

The end.

Yep. That’s what this is.

I should feel worse than I do. But mostly, I’m just numb. I’ve grown accustomed to the numbness. I wear it like a weighted blanket, letting it drown me in heaviness and comfort. Because anything is better than those first few days, when I was basically catatonic.

So, yeah, I’ll take the numbness over that any day of the week. At least with the numbness there’s a dull buzzing humming around in my veins, giving me that druggy feeling of being half-awake, half-asleep. At a minimum, it allows me to function at a somewhat human-like level.

Which was needed. On more than one occasion.

You know, like when I was being hauled into the police department.

Turns out, confessing to a crime you didn’t commit in front of a bunch of lawyers—and on videotape, no less—is not a smart idea. In fact, it’s pretty fucking moronic.

It feels like I’ve been interviewed by every person with a badge this side of the Mason Dixon.

I thought for sure I was going to be arrested. Turns out, the wheels of justice move slowly when the police and prosecutors think they already have the right guy. I know Holt’s legal team is pushing as hard as they can for more answers and more investigating, but I’m not sure they’re getting very far.

The world still thinks Holt’s guilty. And on top of that, other breaking and hot-topic news has come and gone, taking with it some of the limelight and pressure of deepening the police investigation. He’s still a predominant focus of conversation, don’t get me wrong; but he’s gone from being splayed across every news show in the country in non-stop fashion to just a weekly follow-up story.

That is, except for the trolls who follow him, posting his whereabouts to social media on a daily basis, ensuring that he remains a pariah to all the fans who once sang his praises.

And he should be a pariah—worse than a pariah—if in fact, he were guilty.

But he’s not.

Oh, he’s guilty of many things…mainly being an epic asshole to me…but that doesn’t mean he’s guilty of the crime he was arrested for.

Despite my deep-seated hatred of him and contempt for what he did to me, I’ve never wavered from my belief in his innocence when it comes to Heidi.

Most people would say that makes me a fool. And I guess it does.

But the vitriol that’s been cast his way still hurts my already-decomposed heart. People are just plain sick. There was even a ten-thousand-dollar bounty for someone to actually stab him in the scrotum and capture it on video.

I take a deep breath, refusing to drag any part of that into my last few minutes in the store. I’m lucky things worked out the way they did. I’m lucky I found a buyer for all of my inventory— he even wanted the shelving units and the computer system. I’m also very lucky my landlord let me break the lease. That part was definitely questionable when I was trying to pressure wash the painted dicks off the sidewalk.

And repair the broken window.

And clean the graffiti from the brick.

“So, you plan on moving back home after graduation in May?”

Kyra shrugs. “Well, I thought this was my home.”

I frown. “Kyra…” My voice trails off, silently begging her to be strong. She knows I don’t have any fight left. It’s hard to keep a business afloat when you have absolutely no customers.

“But yeah, I guess I’ll move back in with my parents until I figure out what’s next. Toby’s already looking for work positions up in my hometown,” she says, talking about her boyfriend.

I snort. “I reckon there’s a lot of that going around.”

Digging in my purse, I pull out a small envelope and slide it in front of her.

“What’s that?”

“Your paycheck.” Being the best friend that she is, Kyra didn’t even take a paycheck this last month. She knew the money was coming from my parents, and she refused to take it. “And before you say anything, it’s not from my parents. It’s from this,” I say, nodding to the mover taking out the last box.

She shakes her head. “You need it. Add it to your pile for him .”

I clear my throat, thinning my lips. “I have all I need. Don’t you worry about that. I’m taking care of it before I leave town.”

Kyra blows a raspberry. “What a shitty day. And you still have to see your douchebag ex-husband too?”

“Yep, but I’m focusing on the positive. I’ll get the last of my stuff from Edward’s attic, and then I’ll never have to lay eyes on him again. I consider that a win in my book.”

Kyra picks at a spot on her shirt. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

I wrap my arms around her. “Live your life and be happy. Put all this nastiness behind you.” I kiss her cheek and look out the window. “Because that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

***

Sometimes, I wonder what it would feel like to punch someone.

More specifically, what it would feel like to punch my ex-husband.

He picks up on the fifth ring. “Edward, I’ve been waiting for thirty minutes. Are you nearly here?”

“No, I’m still on the golf course. We’re behind a slow group.” He rambles around, asking someone to bring him a putter. “Are you still wanting your stuff?”

What a stupid question.

I roll my eyes. “Of course, I want my stuff. That’s why I’m here. You told me you would be back by now.”

“Well, Merit, I have no control over the other people on the golf course.”

“I want my stuff, Edward,” I say, internally berating myself. I was a fool to keep some of my keepsakes in the attic after our divorce—my college diploma, photo albums, some antique china from my great-grandmother.

“Well, listen, Delaney should be on her way home from the gym. I already texted her and told her you need to get in the attic, okay.”

Growling, I hang up on him and spend the next fifteen minutes tapping my hand against the steering wheel. When she doesn’t show up, I text Edward, telling him that I’m going inside to get my stuff and that I’ll lock up behind me. I really don’t want to be here anymore. I have the world’s worst errand to run after this, and this delay is doing nothing to calm my anxiety.

Walking around to the garage door, I enter the code on the keypad and wait for the door to lift, but nothing happens. I enter the code again. Still nothing happens. Abandoning that, I go to the front door and try that alarm keypad. The red light blinks at me, telling me I’ve entered the code wrong. I try again. Same thing. I pull out my phone and text Edward again, asking him if he changed the code to get into the house. Of course, he doesn’t text back. The whole time I lived here, it was the date he passed the bar exam. I can only assume Delaney changed it.

With no other option, I flop down on the front steps and try not to flip my shit while waiting for Delaney. Ten minutes later, she finally pulls into the driveway. Refusing to walk to the driveway to meet her, I recline back on my elbows and watch her. She doesn’t even look like she’s worked out. There’s no dewy glow. Her makeup and lipstick are still pristine. And her thousand-dollar, skintight outfit doesn’t have the first sweat stain.

“Merit, good to see you.” She places her sunglasses on top of her head.

“Uh-huh. Yeah.”

“Edward told me you had some things you were needing to retrieve from the attic.”

I nod.

She cocks her head and looks at me like I’m the most pitiful woman she’s ever seen. “Leaving town, I heard.”

I stand up and wipe the dirt from my butt. “I’m in a little bit of a hurry so if we can…” I say, twirling my finger in the air, nonverbally telling her to get the show on the road.

“Oh, absolutely.” She shifts her custom handbag from one arm to the other. Leaning forward, she pauses over the keypad. “By the way, I received an alert on my phone that someone tried to disarm and enter.” She cocks an eyebrow. “Was that you?”

I fold my hands in front of me, hoping my face isn’t bright red. “Like I said, I’m in a hurry.”

She grimaces with a fake smile. Turning her shoulder to block my view, she starts punching numbers. Entering the code, the keypad blinks green, and she opens the front door. The inside alarm chirps, letting her know all is clear.

But I don’t follow her inside.

Because I can’t move.

I’m frozen in place. It feels like I’m permanently glued to the concrete.

I’m paralyzed because her shoulders are skinny and petite. And I’m way taller than she is. I’m paralyzed because…turning her body didn’t block shit.

1102.

She changed the alarm and entry code to 1102.

The date Holt found Mr. Hard Knock.

That has to be a coincidence, right?

Maybe her birthday is November 2 nd ? Maybe it’s the last four digits of her Social Security number? The street number of her childhood home? The number of men she’s had sex with?

A slow burn travels through my body, scalding my every nerve-ending. It feels like I’ve been dipped in acid. Like I’m being eaten alive.

Something tells me this is no coincidence. Something tells me there’s more to the story.

So. Much. More.

“Merit!”

In a fog, I turn and look at her. Delaney rolls her eyes and sweeps her arm across the foyer. “I thought you were in a hurry?”

“Oh. Yeah.” I force myself to put one foot in front of the other. My legs feel hot and heavy, like they’re filled with lava and lead. My feet awkwardly plop forward, clunking across the foyer.

Shaking her head, she scoffs. She pretends to mumble under her breath, but it’s still loud enough for me to hear. “Yep, Edward was right. Airhead.” She puts her stuff on the small entry table and nods to the stairs. “You good? I’m assuming you remember where the attic is.” Not waiting for my answer, she disappears around the corner. “You can let yourself out. I’m heading into the sauna.” She’s trying to point out the fact that Edward installed a sauna for her. Because it’s definitely not something we had when I lived here.

I’m shaking uncontrollably. I have to grip the handrail to keep from falling. In record time, I gather my three boxes. Technically, I should make two trips, but I’m so damn nervous and anxious I just want to get out of the house. I lift my chin, trying to peer over the top box so I don’t trip. I’m about to cross the threshold when something catches my eye.

A cell phone.

Delaney’s cell phone.

I’m not exactly sure what possesses me to take it. But I do.

Then, I haul ass across town.

***

I don’t even have to knock on the door before someone opens it. That’s the benefit of living in a secluded area—you can always hear when someone’s driving up.

My heart warms when I see Crutch holding Hardy. The baby opens an eye and then quickly decides he’s too tired to stay awake. “Merit…”

“Hey, Crutch.”

“It’s good to see you.” His tone is a mixture of surprise, relief, and trepidation. He looks out on the porch, making sure I’m alone. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping I could speak to Ella for a second. Do you think that would be okay?”

It must be because he shifts to the side, giving me access to his house. He disappears into the kitchen.

“Merit!”

My crumbled heart breaks a little bit more when I see Laura. I guess I didn’t realize how much I missed Holt’s family—especially, the kids. She’s sitting on the living room floor, using the coffee table as a desk. Papers and art supplies are scattered all around.

“Hey, Laura.”

She looks down at her lap, debating getting up and giving me a hug, but she’s covered in glitter and magazine clippings. “I wanna hug you, but I’m messy. I’m doing a project for school.”

I shrug. “Well, a little glitter never hurt anyone.”

Smiling, she jumps up and wraps her arms around me. For some reason, when Ella walks in, I can’t help but feel a little guilty.

Crutch rubs the top of her head. “Little Girl, you wanna keep an eye on Hardy? He’s in his swing in the kitchen.”

Too wise for her age, her gaze darts to all three of us adults, appraising us with critical eyes. “You mean, you wanna talk about grown-up stuff and don’t want me to hear, right?”

He just rolls his eyes and playfully slaps her on the bottom. “Get,” he commands, nodding at the kitchen.

Giving me one last hug, she dramatically tiptoes out of the room.

It makes me wanna freakin’ cry.

Ella reaches out. She’s about to rub my shoulder when she changes her mind. Instead, her hand falls limply to her side. “Hi, Merit.”

“Hey.”

She looks me over. “You look good. Are you doing okay?”

I look down at the floor. How am I supposed to answer that? Does she actually want the truth? Or just a pleasantry? Playing it safe, I settle into formality. After all, it’s my safe place. “I’m well. Thank you for asking.”

She side glances at her husband. “You need to speak with me?”

I nod, looking down at the bulging manila envelope in my hand. My entire body trembles. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I was hoping you could give this to Holt.” My voice cracks when I say his name.

“What is it?”

I nod, giving her permission to look inside. Her eyes widen, and she gasps.

Crutch looks over her shoulder. His handsome face studies mine. “Money?” he asks.

“I started saving the day I found out he paid off my loan. It’s every penny I owe him. That includes the money I spent on his credit card for the Christmas inventory I bought.”

“Where did you get this money?” Ella’s curiosity is immediately piqued. I guess it’s a valid question considering she’s on Holt’s defense team, and I am a prime suspect.

I snort. “Nothing illegal, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She frowns. “That’s not what I was thinking.”

“Well, I just wanted to drop it off before I left town.”

“You’re leaving town?” Crutch seems surprised. “For a few days?”

“Forever. I’m going home.” I’m pissed when my voice cracks again on the word home. It’s strange how our definition of that word can shift in the blink of an eye.

Neither of them says anything, so I can only assume I’ve shocked the words right out of them. I debate using their stunned demeanor to my advantage and sprinting out of the house, but I blurt out my next sentence, forcing myself to stay. “There’s something else.” I sigh, praying I don’t sound like a lunatic. “I was at Edward’s house today. I had to get some of my things from his attic.”

“Okay…” Ella draws out her word, unsure where this story is going.

“Well, I couldn’t get the door open. Apparently, Delaney changed the alarm code.” I lick my lips. “She… she changed it to… 1102.”

Ella’s brow furrows. Crutch actually takes a step back and drags his hand across his jaw in thought.

“That’s weird, right?” I look back and forth between the two of them. “Anyway,” I reach in my right back pocket, “I thought you might wanna take a look at her phone.”

Ella turns the phone over and looks at the screen. “Merit, did you steal Delaney’s phone?”

Based on her reaction, I’m assuming stealing it would be really, really bad. “Uhhh… she let me borrow it,” I say, tripping over my lie. When Crutch whispers a curse, I ignore him. “She doesn’t even have a passcode on it.”

“Did you look in her phone?” Ella asks.

“No, I was afraid I’d get accused of planting evidence.”

“Merit,” Ella scolds.

I hold out my hands, refusing to get into a fight. “I just thought the whole thing was weird. I’m not sure why I took it,” I say, coming clean. All of a sudden, I feel like a complete idiot. “But Crutch is a cop. He can return it for me. If she wants to press charges, I would understand.”

Ella looks at her husband, nodding at him in their unspoken language. He walks down the hall, into his office. “Well, it’s kind of ironic that we are talking about cell phones.”

“Why is that ironic?”

Crutch returns and hands me a folded piece of paper. Nerves fire in my stomach. “What’s this?”

Ella lifts her chin in the air, steeling herself. When I first met her, I thought that her attitude and mannerisms were just plain bitchy. Come to find out, she’s one of the nicest and funniest women I’ve ever known. She just has a different persona for the uncomfortable situations in life—I guess we’re kind of like long-lost soul sisters, if you think about it. “It’s a subpoena. For your cell phone records. It was served to your cell phone provider on Friday. We’re not required to tell you. But,” her voice softens, “I… well, I’m not sure why I’m telling you.”

A black shroud falls over me. Anger bounces around in my brain like a ping-pong ball. Skirting around the coffee table, I grab Laura’s ink pen and write my username and password on the bottom of the legal document. “My passcode is four zeros.” Grabbing my own cell phone from my other back pocket, I wrap the paper around it and give it to Ella. “Here’s my username and password. I pretty much use the same ones on every single app on my phone.” I chuckle cynically. “I know you’re not supposed to, but…”

“You don’t have to do that,” Crutch says.

I wave him off and turn away. I’m just ready to get the hell out of here.

“I’ll get your phone back to you as soon as possible. How can I get ahold of you?”

“Keep it. I’m changing my number.”

The Believer’s Game: The Skeptic’s Duet Book Two

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