Page 54 of No Control
“She’s gone straight to her room, but this is messy.”
I breathe out some relief and move through the house, gathering the cameras and sliding them into the pocket of my hoodie. “I can’t leave with the body there.”
“You have to. The police are going to have to take this one.”
“They’ll blame the wife,” I growl under my breath. “And that’s an easy one to believe once you see her in person.” I head back for the stairs, knowing I might be making a huge mistake.
But I can’t forget the thought of Lydia lying there in the woman’s place.
I’ll never break Lydia like this.
I make it back to the bedroom and open the door. The wife is still there on the bed, but she’s sitting up now, her arms wrapped around her knees.
“You need to get up and shower,” I instruct her.
“Don’t do this,” Jude warns me. “You need to leave.”
I shake my head. “You and your daughter need to go somewhere tonight.”
She stares at me, but slowly bobs her head. Her frail body scoots across the bed, and as she stands to her feet, her gray sweats hang loosely on her body. “Thank you.”
“Leave the clothes in the room.”
She nods, wrapping her arms around herself. “I won’t tell anyone.”
I don’t know if I believe her, but as soon as she’s in the bathroom, I rip the comforter off the bed and cover Carlson’s body. I wipe my blade across the white material, cleaning it.
“Call for cleanup,” I mutter as I slide it into its sheath.
“Okay, I’ll have them show up once everyone leaves. Now, please get the fuck out of there, Henry. You’ve damn near exposed yourself.”
“Right.” I spin on my heels and escape down the stairs. I rip the side door open from the kitchen and trot across the dark lawn. Jude cut off all the outside lights and cameras, but I could still easily be seen. I remove the mask as I slide into the Mercedes. It’s going to have to go—and soon. I toss the mask to the passenger seat, and glance back to the house.
I hope like hell they’ll keep their mouths shut. I’m putting a lot of weight into the hands of strangers…All because I thought of Lydia in the middle of it.
She’s giving me a conscience. And I don’t know if that’s a good thing.
***
I make it back to the house hours later after ditching the car, trading it in for a black Lexus. I cut the engine and tap the close button for the garage. The sun is already rising in the sky, but the warm orange glow is replaced by darkness as the door fully shuts.
And taking a few minutes, I run my hands over my face.
Holy shit.
A nagging feeling tugs at my gut, and I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t try to either. I pull the handle of the driver’s side door, the lights in the car kicking on. I’m still wearing my black gloves, and so I pull them off, shoving them into my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder.
What would Lydia think of me if she knew?
The question is intrusive, and I push it away. It doesn’t matter what she’d think. This is what it is, and I have to get better about separating my obsession with Lydia and work. It makes me weak.
I climb out of the car and exit the garage, climbing the stairs and entering the house. I creep through the mudroom, and the glow of a light catches my attention. The kitchen light is on, and I glance down at myself. There’s blood on the shirt beneath my fresh hoodie, soaking the neckline, and I’m sure it’s speckled across my face.
As I round the corner, I catch sight of Jude, pouring a cup of coffee. “You look exhausted.”
He looks up, dark circles under his eyes. “Long night. I’ve had to cover a lot of digital footprints, and the cleanup crew has no idea you have a witness. If it gets out you interacted with—”
“We don’t have to discuss this any further. I don’t know how it would get out.”
