Shane is staring at his old home, his hands clutching his knees. I can’t quite read his thoughts until he bursts out, “Look! It’s my old Chevy!”
Sure enough, Shane’s old car is still parked out by the house, covered in a healthy layer of snow but still recognizable. I’m sure the car will need as much work as the house to get it in usable condition. I pull over next to the Chevy, hoping I can still get my car out after this. The Toyota is not good at backing out of snowy areas.
“That’s where I used to live, Josh,” Shane tells him.
“It’s like a haunted house,” Josh comments.
Shane winks at me. “It might be.”
I wouldn’t entirely be surprised. After all, three people died here. It feels like Shane isn’t quite feeling the gravity of that. He actually seems happy to be here.
“Hey,” Shane says to Josh, “you want to see inside?”
“Sure!”
I open my mouth to protest, but Shane and Josh are already climbing out of the car. I’m so angry at Shane right now, I want to scream. We had an agreement. I told him I would drop him off here and then leave. But if my son is going into the house, I obviously can’t leave. So I have no choice but to hurry after them.
I start to yell at Shane to be careful about the steps, but without having to be told, Shane helps Josh up the four stairs to the front door, making sure he doesn’t slip or fall. I follow behind, gripping the handrail to keep from sliding off the icy stairs myself. Shane digs around in his pocket for a key, which he fits into the front door. As he’s unlocking the door, I feel a sick sense of déjà vu, from back when Shane and I were dating and he brought me back to his house a few times.
“Shane…” I say.
“Let’s just take a quick look around,” he says.
He struggles a little to get the door open, between the wood being splintered and rotten, and the entire front of the house being frozen. He has to put all his weight against the door, but it finally pops open. And then, against my better judgment, we step inside.
The inside of the house is just as cold as the outside. There’s no power, but since it’s daytime, it’s not as dark as it was that night eleven years ago. There are cobwebs stuck to the ceiling, and all the furniture is coated in a thick layer of dust. The smell of frost and mildew permeates the air.
But at least it’s better than sandalwood.
“Geez.” Shane looks around. “This place has sure seen better days.”
My gaze strays to the area in front of the stairwell. That’s where it happened. That’s where Tim tried to strangle me with my own necklace.
Josh runs a finger along the sofa. He holds up his fingertip, which is now coated in black. “Look, Mom!”
“Yes, it’s dirty.”
“The sofa is a lost cause,” Shane says. “But I could clean up the floor. And the kitchen…”
He’s looking at me hopefully. He wants my help. He needs my help. It’s going to take him the rest of his life to get this place cleaned up on his own. And now that I’m inside and I’m not actively having a panic attack, maybe this won’t be as bad as I think it’s going to be. Maybe I’ll finally get over what happened here that night.
Maybe it will help me heal.
“Okay, we can stay here a couple of hours,” I say. “And that’s it.”
Shane nods eagerly. “Thanks so much, Brooke.”
“All right,” I say. “Let’s go get the cleaning supplies.”
Chapter 50
The three of us clean as a family.