Chapter 22

It takes another ten minutes to find my keys—for a breathless moment I think that asshole back at Kelly’s stole them out of spite, just snitched them from my pocket when I wasn’t looking because one fuck wasn’t enough for him. Then I remember I drove home so they have to be here somewhere, and a pat-down reveals them dangling from my back pocket. I don’t recall putting them there. Just as well.

The screen door creates more unwanted noise—the neighbors will be up at any minute, yelling at me out their bedroom windows or calling the police. So much for being quiet, I think, fighting to get the key into the side door lock. The thought strikes me as funny for some stupid reason and I start to snicker. The sound blossoms into laughter that I tamp down when the door swings opens to crash against the stairwell. “Oops,” I say, stepping inside. To the empty kitchen, I apologize. “Sorry.”