Blackout (Revolving Door Book 2)

by Dani Matthews

  Five

  Harper

  On Wednesday, Quinn picks me up from the animal clinic, and together, we drive to the church for Carrie’s funeral. We’re both dressed in dark, respective outfits for the sobering afternoon ahead of us.

  I glance at Quinn, and she’s silent as she drives, her expression troubled.

  As if sensing my attention on her, she glances at me as we slow for a set of stoplights. “I thought by now the police would know more,” she murmurs.

  “Has Colt spoken to Bryce yet?”

  “I made him call him yesterday. There’s nothing.” She frowns as she faces forward once more. “I don’t understand how they don’t have anything. There had to be something left at the scene, at least you would think.”

  “Bryce is a detective and bound by the law not to share much,” I remind her.

  Quinn’s eyes slide back to mine, and frustration shines in them. “I’m serious, Harper. There’s nothing for them to go on at this point. Bryce wasn’t just giving Colt the typical police response during an investigation. There’s nothing. That means the killer probably threw her body out of the vehicle and drove away. Box Springs isn’t the real crime scene. She was killed somewhere else.”

  A shudder makes its way down my spine. “I know crime is on the rise in our area, but it’s creepy when it’s someone you know.”

  Quinn releases a soft sigh and drives forward when the light changes. “The worst part is wondering if it’s someone she knew.” Her eyes slide back to mine. “Because if it was, chances are we might know the killer, too.”

  I stare at her. “You really think that?”

  “I don’t know what to think. I just wish the police had something concrete, you know?”

  “They might, and Bryce might not be able to say anything—not even to Colt,” I point out.

  Quinn shrugs and falls silent.

  I study our surroundings as we drive through the city. The sun is shining brightly, and the streets are congested with vehicles driving to and from their destinations. It feels like such a normal day, and yet it isn’t. We’d lost a friend over the weekend, and it’s cast a shadow over us.

  “Have you looked any further into rooming with someone?” Quinn asks casually.

  Her question has me glancing at her, and her expression is smooth and unreadable. “Not really. I think after things settle down, I’ll consider it further. Maybe over the weekend.” I haven’t given up on the idea, but I hadn’t wanted to move forward with it until Carrie’s funeral had passed.

  Quinn nods. “If you want me to tag along when you look at places and meet possible roommates, I can. It’d help to know that you’re moving in with someone that I think is going to be good for you,” she offers.

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  Her eyes swing back to mine. “Harper, you’re family. I’d do anything for you, even help you pick out the perfect roommate,” she says seriously.

  I smile. “I already have the perfect roommate, so we’re going to have to settle for less perfection.”

  She playfully blows me a kiss and turns back to the road. “Whoever she may be, she should be the opposite of myself,” she warns. “There’s only room for one of us in your life.”

  “Done,” I muse and switch the topic. “I’m going out with Brandie and a friend of hers tonight. You remember Brandie, right?”

  Quinn nods. “She works with you?”

  “Yes. Want to come with?” I offer.

  “As tempting as it is, I think I’d better not. If I go out, I’ll stay out late to get my mind off Carrie, and then I’ll be in a foul mood tomorrow.”

  “Okay, but if you change your mind, call me and we’ll tell you where to meet up with us.”

  “Are you going to drink?” she asks almost nonchalantly.

  “Nope, no drinking,” I laugh. “After last weekend, I offered to be the designated driver.”

  Quinn looks relieved by the news, and as we pull into the church parking lot, a new tension makes its presence known. Her brows furrow as we slowly drive through the parking lot in search of an empty space. “Shit. This place is packed.”

  “Carrie made a lot of friends this past year,” I agree. With her personality, Carrie hadn’t stayed the ‘new girl’ for very long.

  Quinn turns down another row of already taken parking spaces. “I wonder if there’ll be any plain-clothed officers here. If the killer could be someone she knew, everyone’s kind of a suspect,” she says thoughtfully.

  “True. I suppose it would make sense for them to watch those that attend.”

  Quinn spies a parking space and snags it before cutting the ignition. She looks at me questioningly. “If it was someone she knew, do you really think they’d come to her funeral?”

  “That’d be morbid, but if they want to look innocent, then yes. They’d likely still show up and pretend to mourn.”

  She shivers. “That’s so fucked-up. I really hope it was some random stranger.”

  ***

  That night, I’m out with Brandie and her friend, Amber. We’ve stopped by a small house party, and it’s the second one we’ve been to. I’m enjoying my evening out even though I’m sober. Yes, it would be more enjoyable to be drinking, but I’d learned my lesson after last Friday. Drinking doesn’t solve anything. Sometimes, it just makes things worse.

  Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be any men of interest at this party, and I stand to the side of the room and enjoy the music as I sip a soda. There’s been a few guys that have come over to talk with me, but they’re not my type.

  Brandie hurries over to me, and she makes a face. “The bathroom is nasty. If you have to pee, the bushes would be better.”

  Her complaint has me smiling. I’ve been out with Brandie before, and it’s always nice to spend time with her outside of work. “Are you surprised?”

  “Nope.” She looks around before turning her attention back to me. “You should be drinking and letting loose. That was the entire point of this outing.”

  “I got trashed Friday, so I’m fine. This has been nice.”

  Brandie’s nose wrinkles. “The guys here are kind of so-so.”

  I peer over her shoulder and look around the large living room. I’m in full agreement. Most of the people are college-aged, but they aren’t the frat types.

  Across the room, a guy releases a hyena laugh and dives at his friend, wrestling him to the ground. A girl happens to be walking by, and she trips over them as they fall across her path. She curses at them before leaving the room. I’m assuming it’s mostly college freshman here and their extended friends.

  Brandie turns to me, her hazel eyes rolling. “I think maybe it’s time to go.”

  “It’s been fun, but yeah, it’s kind of winding down,” I agree.

  “I’ll go grab Amber,” she informs me.

  Before I can reply, she turns and makes her way into the crowd, but not before a guy grabs her and tries to pull her against his body. She drives her fist into his stomach, and he quickly releases her and doubles over. He coughs hard enough for his glasses to slide off his nose and drop to the floor.

  I’m not a vain person, but Amber brought us to a party where we stand out amongst the crowd. I’ve dressed in a short, blue sundress with floral designs, and paired it with wedge sandals. Brandie’s red hair falls down her back in shiny waves, and her lightly tanned body is shown off in a dark green romper with lace edging. Everyone else is dressed in jeans, shorts, and tees.

  I spy a tall, spindly guy making a beeline towards me, and I casually turn away and begin walking through the crowd to leave. Brandie will know I’ve headed outside to escape the freshman boys.

  As soon as I step out into the night, the rancid scent of vomit greets me as a girl heaves into the bushes next to the porch. I hold my breath and walk past until I reach midpoint down the driveway. When I turn and glance back at the one-story house, I see Brandie scurrying towards me across the lawn. Amber’s nowhere to be seen.

&
nbsp; “Where’s Amber?” I ask.

  Brandie links her arm with mine as we walk down the driveway towards the street. “It’s just you and me. She managed to find the only hot guy in the place, and she’s getting a ride with him later.”

  A couple of guys wolf whistle as they walk past us towards the house. We ignore them and continue down the sidewalk. I’d parked two blocks over since the street was, and still is, lined with cars up and down both sides.

  Brandie sighs. “This wasn’t as much fun as I was hoping it would be. There’s not much going on during the week.”

  “It’s okay, I still had a good time,” I assure.

  “We’ll have to go out again, only next time on a weekend.”

  I agree, and our shoes echo on the pavement as we walk. The cars lining the street are empty, and the houses that we pass by are dark. We’re not exactly in the best area of town, and I’m very much aware of it. Add in the darkness and lack of streetlights, and it doesn’t quite feel all that safe. I quicken my pace slightly, and so does Brandie.

  “What time is it?” she asks.

  I’d brought a small purse, and I open it and pull out my cell phone. The screen lights up briefly before I clear it, and the phone goes dark. “It’s after twelve.”

  “Already?” We cross a street and begin walking down the second block where my car is parked at the end. “I didn’t think we were out that long. I was going to suggest grabbing something to eat, but maybe we’d better call it a night,” Brandie says with disappointment.

  Before I can agree, a dark figure emerges from the bushes that line the sidewalk in front of a house. He blocks our path, and we both freeze. “Money. Now,” a gruff, masculine voice orders.

  There aren’t any streetlights nearby, so his body and face are dark. I have a minute to comprehend he’s wearing a black ski mask before he lunges at me, the moonlight glinting off something in his hand. I try to dodge him while bringing my arms up defensively to protect my face. He’s a blur, and pain burns along my arm as I try to fling myself out of harm’s way. With my balance off-center, I fall to the pavement in a jarring heap—the impact causing my teeth to snap together, nearly costing me my tongue.

  Before I can try to scramble to my feet, Brandie throws herself between the attacker and me. I watch her spray something in his eyes, and the attacker howls and recoils, his hands reaching for his face.

  I’m already struggling to my feet, and Brandie grabs my hand, yanking me up and shoving me past the masked man. We launch into a run towards my car at the end of the street.

  “Do you still have your keys?” Brandie asks in a panicky voice.

  My phone is gone, but thankfully, my purse strap is still crossed over my chest. “Yes!” As we run, I try to open my purse, but my left hand is slippery and wet. I manage to yank the zipper open just as we reach my car. I shove the keys into her hand. “You drive,” I tell her.

  As soon as the car is unlocked, we throw ourselves inside, and Brandie locks the doors. We’re both out of breath with fear, and she jams the keys into the ignition while frantically peering out the windshield. “Do you see him?”

  “No. Go. Just go!”

  The car starts, and as soon as the headlights brighten the night, Brandie quickly pulls out into the street, just barely missing the car parked in front of us. “Oh my God. Did that really just happen?” she asks with shock.

  “Unfortunately, it did.” I try to peer at my arm. The pain is worsening, and the wetness begins to make sense. I’m bleeding.

  “I drank. I shouldn’t be driving,” Brandie mutters.

  “I’m bleeding, so you don’t have a choice.” With my good hand, I reach for the interior light and turn it on.

  “What are you doing? That makes it harder for me to see,” Brandie complains.

  I stare down at my arm. There’s about a five to six inch cut along the inside of my forearm. The skin is completely split wide, and I can see fat and muscle. My stomach turns over, and I draw in a deep breath and slowly exhale so that I don’t give into panic.

  “Oh shit!!” Brandie gasps when she sees my arm.

  As calmly as I can, I turn off the light so that Brandie can concentrate on driving. I have nothing to wrap my bloody arm in, so I press my free hand against the open wound, wincing. The shock from the attack has numbed some of the pain, but I’m sure it won’t be long before I feel a hell of a lot more.

  “We’re going straight to the hospital,” Brandie whispers.

  “Thank you.” I lift my eyes to her so that I can avoid looking at the mess that’s become of my arm. “You saved my ass back there.”

  Brandie glances briefly at me before she concentrates on driving. “He said he wanted money, but he didn’t give us time to hand over any. He just wanted to kill someone.” She visibly shivers. “My mom’s a huge worrier, so I carry mace with me wherever I go just to make her happy. I’m glad I humor her.”

  “It saved our lives.”

  “We’ll need to call the police and report this.”

  I nod in agreement.

  Once we reach the hospital and Brandie ushers me to the front desk in the emergency room lobby, everything becomes hectic.

  I’m promptly taken away by two nurses. After I suffer through the cleaning of the wound, the doctor comes in and begins stitching the long gash closed. It’s a lengthy process, and I look away as the drugs begin to kick in. When the doctor is finished, he offers to give me a referral to a plastic surgeon, warning me that I’m likely going to have quite a scar. I thank him, and after he goes over my after-care instructions, he exits the cubicle to move on to the next patient.

  I finally have a chance to speak with Brandie, who’s already spoken with the police. One of the officers is going to give her a ride home unless I’d prefer her to stay. I wave her off, and after she leaves, I give my statement to the other officer who’d been patiently waiting to speak with me.

  When a nurse comes into the cubicle to check on me after the officer leaves, she asks if I’d like them to call someone to come pick me up. Thankfully, I have Quinn’s number memorized. After I recite it, I close my eyes and relax on the cot as the nurse disappears around the curtain.

  I can still feel pain with the drugs the doctor had given me, but it’s tolerable. I still can’t believe any of this happened. As I recall the dark figure jumping from the bushes, my heartrate increases. It had all happened so fast that there hadn’t been a moment to process what was happening until it was over. Thank God Brandie had quickly jumped into action and had used the mace.

  If she hadn’t…

  “Sweetie?”

  I look up to see the motherly nurse peeking around the cubicle curtain.

  “Your friend isn’t picking up. Is there anyone else I can call? We can certainly keep you overnight if needed,” she offers.

  “I lost my phone, so I don’t have anyone else’s numbers memorized.” Except Gabe’s. In a way, I wish I didn’t, but I do. I suppose I could take a cab, but Gabe would be furious if he found out I’d allowed a stranger to take me home because I wanted to avoid him. Not to mention that it would just prove how much I’m not over him. “Actually, wait. You can call Gabe Lock.” I tell her the number, and she leaves to call him.

  As much as I would like to avoid Gabe, I think I’d prefer seeing a familiar face over a stranger’s. Tonight, I’d come close to losing my life. Brandie was right. That guy wasn’t after money, he was after something a lot more valuable—our lives.

  I want to pull myself together before Gabe arrives, so I ease myself into a sitting position and swing my legs over the side of the cot. My eyes drop, and I peer down at myself. My arm had bled profusely, and my pretty sundress is now covered with red patches. I’m lucky the knife hadn’t nicked an artery. If it had, I would’ve died on the way here. It’s also a miracle I hadn’t needed a blood transfusion, but tightly gripping the wound had helped staunch the blood flow.

  The friendly nurse bustles into the cubicle, and she hands me a
clipboard with a sheath of papers attached. “Your friend is on his way,” she announces. “These are your discharge papers that you need to sign, and there are forms you need to fill out pertaining to the insurance claim, medical information, and emergency contact info since you don’t have one on file. You also have after-care instructions,” she explains.

  I accept the clipboard and pen. “Thanks,” I murmur.

  “Can I get you anything while you wait?” she asks kindly.

  “I’m good, thanks,” I tell her with a small smile.

  Once she’s gone, I draw in a deep breath and exhale. It’s been such a draining evening, and I just want to curl up in bed and put the events behind me.

  As I begin filling out the papers, my lips tug into a downward frown. Why hadn’t Quinn answered her phone? She’d told me she wasn’t going out, and since it’s well after midnight, she should be home. Maybe she’d accidentally turned it off? I suppose that could be a possibility. She’s also terrible at charging it. It’s always dying on her, so the battery could be dead.

  The pen I’m holding hesitates above the emergency contact form. I’ll put Quinn’s name down obviously, but I should add a secondary contact. It’s pointless to use my parents since they live in Idaho. I don’t know who else to choose. It’d be weird to put Channing or Colt. And definitely not Sebastian. Maybe Ash? I should talk to her first, so I decide to leave the secondary contact blank.

  After about ten minutes, the nurse returns for the clipboard and tells me she’ll send Gabe back to the cubicle when he arrives.

  I thank her and reach for my purse, slipping it cross-wise over my chest. It’s stained with my blood, and I grimace. With not much else to do, I sit and wait for Gabe. I can hear a commotion down the hall and someone’s giving curt instructions. Somebody must have arrived with life-threatening injuries.

  I yawn multiple times, and my eyes become heavy. The doctor had warned that the pain medication would likely make me drowsy.

  Footsteps growing closer to my cubicle warn me someone’s approaching, and I look up and watch as the curtain parts. Gabe enters the small room, and his eyes widen when he sees me. I swear his face loses a little color. “What happened?” he demands, his eyes taking in my bloodied dress as he hesitates in front of me. He’s visibly uncertain whether he should touch me.