She knew Cairo still lived where she had grown up, albeit by herself now. Mentally tracing the path, she skirted the part of Amaranth that Ryan lived in.
Even the thought of her name set off butterflies in Liv’s stomach. She forced them down, ignoring the increase in heart rate and the way her throat dried. It had been ten years since they had broken up, since things had ended, and even thinking of Ryan still did that to her. She was almost thankful for her grandmother’s memory loss. Gram never mentioned Ryan.
The traitorous part of Liv couldn’t help but wonder what Ryan was up to now. What had she done with her life? Had she stayed in town, become a police officer like she’d wanted to? Had she ever been brave enough to ask someone on a date? Or was she still single?
The rhythmic thump of her feet on the concrete sidewalks comforted her. It wasn’t a long walk to Cairo’s, but it was long enough that she could clear her head. Her purse hung from her shoulder, the pastry tucked in there.
Liv took a deep breath when she got to the intersection she had been dreading. She could almost see Ryan’s house, a delicate blue single-story with plain white windows.
“That’s not creepy,” she muttered to herself. She didn’t know what Ryan was doing for a living (and had asked River and Abby not to tell her), but she remembered what her house looked like. Ryan had stayed in her childhood home. Liv had left.
She shoved the thoughts out of her mind and continued forward, towards Cairo’s house. It wasn’t far down the side street she took, three houses to the right. It looked eerie. Not like a haunted house, but while it looked good on the outside, she could see hints of disrepair. The shutters on the windows looked normal, but if she looked closer she could see the fraying paint. There were a few missing tiles, a scratch on the door that had been shoddily tended to.
There was a car in the rocky driveway. Good, Cairo was home then. Liv and Mocha headed up the walkway, up the three steps to the door. Mocha sat next to Liv’s feet, oddly obedient.
Liv smiled down at her before knocking on the door. No answer. She frowned at it, then knocked louder. She listened as hard as she could for any sign of Cairo rustling in the house.
Nothing.
She pushed the doorbell, hearing its ‘ding dong’ echo in the home. Still nothing.
Maybe Cairo was sleeping, she rationalized to herself. Her grip got tighter on Mocha’s leash, uneasiness making goosebumps prickle on her arms. There was a small porch with the living room window. It was mostly covered with thick curtains, but they fluttered where they hung. Maybe Liv could get a glance inside.
“I’m not a stalker,” she assured herself. As if that did anything. With Mocha right beside her, Liv inched onto the patio and looked into the window, trying various angles in order to see inside.
The first thing she saw was the cards everywhere, strewn across the room as if someone had tossed them up in the air with no regard for what would happen when they came down.
Mocha whuffed, her alarm causing Liv alarm. She pulled back, looking around. But there was no one there. Just them.
Unease prickled across the nape of her neck. She turned back to the window, but her heart was racing now and her palms were sweating.
Then she saw it. Saw the feet swaying in the air, back and forth, like a hypnotist’s watch. The feet were pointed down, like a broken marionette. Cairo wasn’t sleeping, Liv knew. She was dead.
No one slept with a noose around their neck.
She stepped back from the porch almost fast enough to trip over Mocha, then darted down to the end of the driveway, trying to catch her breath. 911. She needed to call the police.
3
Wednesday 28th September; 6pm
“One, two, three, four,” Ryan chanted as she did pushups, her long dark hair falling in her face.
“Five,” her partner, Dane, continued.
They made it to nine before the phone rang. Ryan held herself in the plank position, her ab muscles straining, as Dane answered the phone.
“Uh huh. Oh. Yup.” Then he hung it up. “Game’s up.”
“You owe me a drink,” Ryan said as she stood up, brushing her hair back behind her ears. Her abs were complaining a touch, but she could have done plenty more push-ups if she needed to. Next time she’d put her hair up in a ponytail first. Her bangs were growing out and needed to be bobby-pinned back. Annoying.
“Later.” Dane’s voice had shifted oddly serious. “There’s been a murder.”
“Shit.” Ryan headed straight to her desk. “Leave in five?”
Dane nodded, then Ryan turned back to her desk. She didn’t know if she or Dane would be the primary, but she had to be prepared. She cleaned off her desk, setting files aside. She couldn’t completely ignore her caseload, but homicides took priority.
She lingered over one of the folders, guilt tugging at her. 19-year-old Jasmine Turner had gone missing a week ago, and the case had ended up on her desk. Her parents were frantic, but the leads were drying up. Her friends wouldn’t talk to her, especially once they found out she worked for the police.
“Ready to go?” Dane’s voice caught her attention.
“Yup.” Ryan tucked her ID into her pockets, ensuring everything was settled on her belt and her gun was properly holstered. She left Jasmine’s case file in her desk and headed after Dane. “Your car?”
“I need gas,” Dane said, arching an eyebrow at her.
Ryan rolled her eyes. “And you know my car has been topped
