This Story Might Save Your Life(78)

I can’t get out of the house fast enough. Sarah follows at my heel, and by the time I shove the gate open, I am a fireball of nerves.

Running through it, I smash into something solid.

My vision flashes with light, and the contents of my hands plummet to the ground.

“What—” Sarah holds on to me for balance. “What just happened?”

“Sorry, man,” another voice says into the dark. “Sorry about that. You all right? You came out of nowhere.”

“Ted?”

My neighbor hands me the surveillance camera after giving it a second look.

I’m struggling to process his presence in front of my face. “What are you doing here?”

“Just going for a walk.”

He’s in slippers and the same stupid brown robe he wears when he’s feeding squirrels. It takes me only a second to locate his banged-up Ford hatchback down the road.

“A walk, huh?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

The lie is so absurd I have to laugh. Inexplicably, he laughs too. He’s shielding something from my view. I step to the left, and he shifts on his feet, but he’s not fast enough.

“You took your DSLR along for a walk? With a zoom lens? At midnight?”

“It’s not what you think.”

It’s the same camera he used as he shouted over the crowd, Is it true you’re in love with her, Benny? Is it true you and Joy are in love? The same camera, I’m sure of it, that captured “the hug” in my backyard. Whatever images he took tonight will give the impression that I was sneaking into Joy’s house during a time when there is deepening suspicion around my involvement in Xander’s murder. I glare at the surveillance camera in my palm, jaw tensing at the fact that I have to share this secret with him.

Tucking it deep into my pocket, I say through my teeth, “What do I think?”

“I mean…” He inches backward. “It’s sort of what you think. But it’s not personal, man. I saw you drive away, and I thought—hell, if you’re going to accuse me of being some sort of stalker, I figure I may as well make some money from it.”

Bubbles of anger simmer under my skin. I hold out my hand. “Show me what’s on it.”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t get anything.”

“Show me what’s on it.”

“Let’s go, Benny.” Sarah grabs my elbow, but I swat her away.

“Honest to god,” Ted says.

The creak of a hinge. The crunch of leaves. Ted shoots a look to the driveway next door.

Someone is lurking in the shadows.

“Emil?” I say, recognizing this someone by his open shirt. “What are you doing?”

“I saw you running out of Joy’s house.” He creeps into the light. “Just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

My gaze darts back and forth between the two men, Ted with his wild eyes, Emil with his He-Man bulk. Quinn’s words bounce around in my head, that shit with Ted and Emil, and suddenly I understand. It can’t be a coincidence that they’re both out here so late, that Ted somehow knew where we went even though I’m sure—certain—no one followed us here.

“Have you been working together?” I ask Ted.

Ted backs farther away, the camera swinging from his shoulder. “I’ve never met this man before in my life.”

“That can’t be,” I say. Because as far as I’m concerned, it’s crystal clear. The stalking started when Joy moved to Mount Washington. It made sense to blame the paparazzo, but who better to monitor her comings and goings than her next-door neighbor? She would never have suspected him—not this man whose wife was struggling with cancer, this man who brought over vegetables and sold her husband vintage cars. Did Emil call Ted every time Joy left the house? Is that why Ted is here now? Not because he saw me leave, but because Emil saw me arrive? “It was both of you. You were both taking pictures of her, weren’t you?”

“I told you, I don’t know this man,” Ted says.

“Bullshit,” I growl.

Sarah presses a hand to my back. “Benny…”

“Where were you on the night Joy and Xander went missing?” I ask Emil.

He edges forward with his hands out, palms down, as if trying to talk me off a ledge. “Now hold on, there. You’re going to want to calm down.”

But his words have the opposite effect. I’m furious. Ballistic, raving, seeing-red mad. How did Mallory and Quinn know what Ted and Emil were doing? Why didn’t either of them say anything? Why didn’t they go to the cops? All those conversations we had about the stalker, all the worry they could’ve spared Joy. Everyone’s been lying. Everyone is hiding something.

Emil is nearly upon me now. Sarah tugs at my shirt, but I hold my ground because how dare he? How dare they?

I rip Ted’s camera off his shoulder, slamming it to the asphalt with a resonant crack, and then someone wrenches me back. Stumbling, I break my fall with my arm. Pain shoots through my wrist, and I curse at the shock of it as feet scuffle around me. Loose gravel hits my face. The men yell at each other. Sarah yanks my arm, “Benny, get up, get up, Benny,” and I scramble to my feet, cradling my wrist as we sprint toward her car. The door handle slips through my fingers once, twice, and then we’re inside, frantically locking the doors.