I felt myself smile. Good. It'd be that much easier to get answers out of him – well, as soon as we pulled off the duct tape, that is.
When Bishop slammed the trunk and returned to my side, Chloe said, "Shouldn't we be calling the police?"
Bishop and I shared a look.
The police? No. We had different plans for these guys. What specifically, I didn't yet know. But we had a code, and we stuck to it. Guys like this? They didn't get off so light.
From the look on Chloe's face, she saw things differently.
I reminded myself that this was about her, not me, and not Bishop. It would kill me to do it, but if that's what she wanted, we'd make the call. Hey, I could always find the guys later.
I made myself say, "Is that what you want?"
Her eyebrows furrowed as if she didn't understand the question. Her gaze drifted over the lawn and onto the walkway, still dotted with blood. She glanced at the sedan, and then across the street, as if wondering how much the neighbors had seen.
I wasn't worried.
We were covered in darkness and hidden by trees. What had happened here tonight, no one needed to know. In my book, that included the police.
Next to us, Bishop leaned down and picked something up from the grass. It was the knife, with its commando-style handle and short metal blade.
Looking at the thing, I felt a cold anger settle over me. Maybe I'd keep the knife. I could use it later – on its owner. I almost smiled at the thought.
Bishop ran a hand along its blade. His gaze narrowed.
"What is it?" I asked.
Bishop shook his head. "It's fake."
Chloe's hand flew to her throat. "What do you mean fake?"
"It's metal alright," Bishop said, "but I wouldn't call it a knife. Feels more like a movie prop." He turned to Chloe. "Here. Hold out your hand."
I spoke up. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Humor me," he said.
If it were anyone else, I'd have told him to take a hike. But I trusted him. He wouldn't be asking if it weren't important. I turned to Chloe and gave a small nod.
She hesitated, but then held out her hand, palm up.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," he told her. Carefully, he ran the blade along her skin. Nothing happened – no flinch, no reaction, and definitely no blood.
I lifted my gaze to Chloe's face. She looked confused. "It's not even a knife," she murmured, sounding a little embarrassed, but somehow, not quite as surprised as I might've thought.
I kept my voice calm. "Chloe, what's going on?"
She shook her head. "I have no idea."
The inconsistencies were adding up – the knife that wasn't really a knife, the attacker she knew, but didn't know, the house that remained, after all this time, a no-go zone.
I pushed those thoughts aside to ask, "So what do you want us to do?"
Chloe glanced toward the car. "You sure they're okay?"
It suddenly hit me that she seemed awfully concerned for their welfare, given all that had happened. Bishop and I exchanged a glance.
Were the guys okay? Probably. For now, anyway. I turned to Chloe and said, "Yeah."
