I had no recollection of what had happened last night, or who this strange man was. This went way beyond normal socializing – I’d obviously blacked out completely.
I moved to another window, this one front-facing, and peered out through the blinds at the street in front of our house.
My Dodge minivan was parked at the curb, crooked as usual. But tonight, there was a navy-blue Camaro parked behind it, and I knew it didn’t belong to my neighbor. It has to be his, I thought, glancing back at the hairy set of toes.
Well, at least this mystery man drives a nice car. I’ve dated worse …
If only I could remember who he was or what we did last night …
“Excuse me.” I tiptoed over to the bed.
I poked his shoulder area, and when he didn’t budge, I pushed the blankets away from his face. His face was smooth, eyes closed. He looked downright peaceful.
Damn, I wish I slept that soundly.
“I need you to go. I don’t mean to be rude, but I think I had too much to drink last night. I don’t usually let guys stay overnight. And my daughter … well, she has school in the morning. So, can you please head home?”
But the strange man didn’t respond. No breathy snores, not even a slight twitch. No movement, whatsoever …
“Excuse me!” I knew I was being a bitch, but I didn’t care. My daughter had just discovered a strange man in my bed. My daughter who was already having enough troubles lately …
Since joining the dating site, I’d invited a couple men over, but only when Delaney was at her dad’s. Inviting a stranger from the internet to my house on a school night while Delaney was home … well, that was totally out of character for me.
But lately, I hadn’t been acting like myself at all.
I need this man out of my bed … Right now.
I placed both hands on his chest and gave him a sturdy shake. “Wake up, please.”
When he still didn’t react, I grew frustrated. Gripping the plain white sheet in my left fist, I tugged it the rest of the way off.
“Jesus!”
I leapt back from the bed, shaky hands covering my mouth and nose.
The mystery man was completely naked, but that wasn’t the shocking part. It was the dark purple stain in the center of his abdomen.
And beneath him …
“Oh. Oh …” The floor beneath my feet became watery and strange, the walls spinning like a tilt-o-whirl. My backside made sharp contact with the dresser behind me and a picture fell to the floor with a sickening thud.
Holding my mouth so I wouldn’t scream and alert Delaney, I tiptoed like a demented ballerina, back over to the edge of the bed.
I pulled on the light string, lighting up the room to see him better.
I bit down on my fingers, muffling the terror that threatened to burst from within me …
The stranger’s face looked peaceful enough: eyes and mouth closed; hands flat at his sides. But he was rigid, too rigid … almost like he was laying inside a casket instead of my bed.
It might as well be a casket …
Because he’s dead as fuck, I realized in horror.
I bit down harder, my body trembling in fear.
I moved in as close as I dared, nervously studying his wound. It was a hole above his belly button, jagged and red, with a dry purple stain blooming out like a flower around it. Dry streaks of blood stained both sides of his waist from where he’d bled out in the bed beside me.
The sheet beneath him was stained dark red with blood, so red it was almost purple.
So much blood!
It had probably soaked all the way through the mattress and box springs. There was blood on my side too. Realization sinking in, I looked down at my own blue nightdress.
No way would I have let a man see me in this old, worn-out gown. So, why am I wearing it? Nothing about this makes sense.
How the hell did he get here? And who the fuck is he?!
Tentatively, I dabbed at a big, crusty stain on the side of my gown. The color of the gown was too dark to tell, but I knew without a doubt it was blood.
His blood.
He’d been bleeding in the bed beside me … and I’d had no idea.
Vomit tickled the back of my throat, hot and acrid.
How the hell did he get here in the first place?
And, most importantly, how did he wind up dead?
Chapter 2
NOW
Delaney had no idea that there was a dead man in my bed – not just dead, murdered. I’d changed my clothes, locked my bedroom door behind me, and gone to the bathroom to take a quick shower.
And when Delaney woke up at 7am for school, I was standing in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in my hands, a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of orange juice sitting on the table for her.
Most mornings were chaotic, me getting ready for work, both of us rushing out the door at the same time. But everything about today was different.
I have a feeling life will be very different from now on.
“I take it you’re not going to work?” Delaney said, shuffling into the kitchen. She had on a thick black hoodie and fashionably ripped jeans, even though it was supposed to be a warm day for fall. I fought the impulse to ask her to go change. She wasn’t ten anymore – I couldn’t pick out her clothing, as much as I would have liked to.
“I’m going in late today because I have an important meeting in the afternoon. So, my schedule is a little different.” The lie flowed from my tongue like honey.
I wasn’t scheduled to work late; in fact, I’d left a shaky message for my boss telling him I had a stomach virus, which isn’t completely a lie.
Finding a murdered man in your bed does have the tendency to make you a little queasy …
But I’d already missed a couple days recently; not only could I not afford another day off, but my job could be on the line.
“Right. So, ya gonna tell me who he is, or not?” Delaney demanded, globs of oatmeal swishing around her mouth as she talked. She lifted her cup of juice to her stained red lips, glanced down into the cup with a look of disgust, then slammed it back down.
I wonder what they serve for breakfast at Michael’s house, I thought, drearily. Probably crepes and chocolate-chip waffles … made from scratch by Wife #2, of course.
I took a seat in the chair across from her. “He’s just a friend, honey.”
My voice was so calm, so smooth … I almost didn’t recognize it.
“What—the fuck—ever.” Delaney pushed the chair back with a caw-like screech, and I winced.
“Please don’t talk to me that way. I’m a grown woman and I’m allowed to date if I want to. Your father has certainly moved on.”
Instantly, I regretted bringing Michael and Samantha into this.
Delaney left the kitchen without another word.
I heard the jangling of her backpack slipping over her shoulders in the hall, and seconds later, the screen door thumped shut behind her. There were days when the closest I came to understanding my daughter was trying to interpret the shuffle of her feet and the velocity with which she closed her bedroom door.
I remained at the table, clutching my cup of coffee. I heard the squeaky air brakes of the bus pulling up outside. I closed my eyes, waiting for the bus to get all the way to the end of the road before I moved.
When I couldn’t hear it anymore, I stood up.