EERIE by Blake Crouch Jordan Crouch

Author:Blake Crouch Jordan Crouch [Jordan Crouch, Blake Crouch]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-05-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

Paige stood waiting for him at the kitchen island, her face grim in the candlelight.

“How bad is this?” she asked.

“We need to leave.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know, but more people will come.”

“From your work?”

“Yes.”

“What’s going to happen when they …” She cut her eyes toward the ceiling.

“Nothing good.”

“Your face is swollen.”

“She hit me.” Grant glanced back down the hallway. “I should talk to her.”

“About what?”

“Make her understand what’s—”

“No.”

“No?”

“Why would you tell her about any of this?”

“Does it not look bad enough already? I just handcuffed my own partner to a staircase and took her gun.”

“How’d she even find you?”

“The private investigator I called this afternoon. My phone died, he couldn’t reach me, so he called her.”

“Does this mean she talked to your PI?”

“I would assume.”

“So maybe she has some info on the house.”

“I’ll find out. I’m going to tell her everything, Paige.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because maybe she believes me, and then it’s three of us against whatever’s upstairs.”

“You didn’t believe me until you saw your friend cut his neck open with a piece of glass.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe she won’t believe me. But she will listen.”

• • •

Grant sat down a foot outside of Sophie’s reach.

She glared at him, dark eyes ablaze with equal parts sadness, anger, and fear. In the thousands of hours they’d spent together, he’d never seen this look before. A new level of intimacy reached under the worst possible conditions. It felt unnatural, impossible that he might be the object of that intensity. That he had hurt her. In the back of his mind, he’d always thought it would be the other way around.

“I need you to do something, Sophie.”

With her free hand, she pushed her straight black hair out of her face. “What?”

“Try and remember what it felt like to trust me.”

“Are you joking?”

“Three months ago, when you had your biopsy—”

“Don’t do that.”

“Hear me out. You know I would have been sitting in that waiting room when you came out, whether you asked me to be there or not.”

Grant thought he saw the hardness in her eyes give just a little.

He went on, “Now imagine the kind of situation the guy sitting in that doctor’s office would have to be in to physically disarm you and chain you to a banister. Imagine how scared out of his mind he’d have to be.”

“I can’t if you don’t tell me.”

“I’m going to. And I hope you think about all the things you love, or used to love, about me. I hope you’ll give me the benefit of all the doubts you have.”

“Why should I?”

“Because no one in their right mind would believe what I’m about to tell you.”

It was raining again. Grant could hear it pattering on the windows. A good, rich smell wafted in from the kitchen. The soft crackle of browning butter. Paige making grilled cheese sandwiches, he hoped.

The modest heat of the day had fled and a damp, merciless chill had begun to overtake the brownstone.

“Those Facebook

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