When Devils Sing(45)
Quietly, he said, “You know, you were the one who stopped responding. After … what happened, I reached out. I texted. I called. But it was radio silence from you. What was I supposed to do? We were fifteen—we were just kids. I didn’t know any better.”
Heavy silence hung between them, filled only by the clanging of dishes, the murmur of customers, and the sizzle of waffles cooking.
“You stopped trying, Isaiah,” Neera said. “You stopped … caring.” She choked on the last word, her chin beginning to tremble.
Isaiah studied Neera then, really taking in the girl he once knew. She had the unsteady energy of a tiger caught in a cage. The kind you’d see pacing in a run-down enclosure at some roadside zoo in the Florida swamps.
Despite what had changed between them, Isaiah was reminded of when they were little kids. Neera had that same energy when they were on the fenced-in playground in the dead of summer. That desperation to be anywhere but where they were. The only time he’d seen Neera truly at ease was with her uncle.
He had been so jealous of their bond. Ajay had treated Neera like she was his entire world. It was the kind of love that Isaiah had longed for from his own father: the kind which asked for nothing in return.
“But I don’t blame you,” Neera continued, her golden-brown eyes welling up with tears. “I blame me. For being so fucked up after it happened. I pushed you away because I wasn’t worth being around anymore. And I’m not sure that’s changed.”
“Neera,” Isaiah began, but nothing followed.
In that moment, his heart truly ached. For the years lost between them, for the guilt he felt, and for the pain Neera still clearly carried within her.
Despite the time that had passed, their friendship was worth fighting for.
“I’m sorry. I am truly sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed it the most. You’re right. I did stop trying. We can’t change the past, but…” Isaiah inhaled a steadying breath. “I’m here now.”
A heartbeat passed, then Neera met Isaiah’s gaze. “I’m here now, too.” Her chin still trembled, but she managed to keep her tears at bay. “I’m sorry. I want to be better—I really do.”
Isaiah gave her a smile. It wasn’t the fake, country-club one he often wore, but a genuine, heartfelt expression. Neera returned it, and for the briefest moment, there was a glimpse of the girl he once knew.
Neera’s phone vibrated on the table, taking her smile with it. With a groan, she said, “I’m being summoned back to the motel. I should probably get going.”
“Wait.” Isaiah hesitated for a breath. “If we’re gonna really do this again”—he motioned between them—“we need to be honest with each other.”
“I agree.”
Isaiah asked, in a low voice, “Why’d you lie about seeing Dawson Sumter at the Colonial when I asked you the other day?”
Neera went still. “You asked if I knew him, not if I’d seen him. I didn’t technically lie.”
Isaiah’s eyes narrowed. “So, you did see him?”
“Yeah, he got a room and now he’s dead. What do you want me to say?” She let out a heavy sigh. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude. But why’re you asking about him at all?”
“It’s just … I have a gut feeling something isn’t right,” Isaiah said, the hypocrisy of his words not lost on him. He wasn’t technically lying, either. But this wasn’t the time or place to tell Neera about his podcast or Dawson’s email. This is merely delayed truth, he thought. He glanced around them to make sure no one was listening. “Was there anything off about him?”
“I mean, yeah. When I first saw him, it looked like he’d been crying. And…”
“And what?”
“I think Dawson had blood on his hands,” Neera whispered. “There was blood in his bathtub. Not a lot, but not a little, either.”
“Blood?” Isaiah repeated. “Jesus Christ, Neera.”
“It’s not that uncommon at the Colonial,” she insisted. “I didn’t really think anything of it until I saw that he’d, you know, drowned.”
“Anything else?” Isaiah asked, his mind now racing.
Neera’s eyes went to the tote bag sitting beside her. She dug around in it for a moment, then placed an object on the table between them. An old leather key chain with a peculiar buck antler logo carved into it, as well as long-faded letters he couldn’t decipher. “I found this when I was cleaning his room. And then … I saw this in the motel’s office.”
She reached into her bag and pulled something else out. A photo of her uncle, Ajay, wearing a shirt with the same blindfolded deer logo. She set it on the table between them. “What if the fire, Dawson’s key chain, and this photo are all connected? I just don’t know how or why yet.”
Isaiah sat in silence for a beat, processing what he’d just heard. He picked up the key chain to look at it more closely, comparing it to the photo of Ajay. “This building in the background … what if Ajay worked there? Dawson, too? Just a coincidence?”
“Maybe,” Neera said skeptically. “But I don’t know. It’s too coincidental.” She went quiet again, her gaze focusing beyond the window. “There’s something else,” she said. Her voice was, suddenly, so small. She was no longer a tiger but the memory of one. “The guy who threatened us—Wiley. He said something weird. He mentioned Ajay. Said we’d end up just like him if my grandfather’s debt isn’t paid.”