“Run! Hide!” Sal hisses to me, and I take off, bolting out of the room. There’s an attic. That’s the safest place for me to hide, I think. Just in case that cop decides to barge into the house, the attic is the last place he would look, I assume. I sure as hell can’t just stand here gawking in the living room, waiting for him to discover me like a sitting duck.

This is dangerous, not just for me, but for Sal. Between his being on the run from the mafia and the fact that my half-brother thinks I’m already dead, it could be catastrophic if the two of us are discovered here hiding out together. I shudder to think what would happen to us. We have to play it safe.

Besides, the property is under Sal’s name, not mine.

Hopefully he can talk the cop out of doing a search, calm him down, relieve his concerns.

God, I hope he can.

I scurry into the converted garage, which is musty and caked with thick dust. I immediately start coughing as I flounder around looking for a light switch. I find it, but flipping the switch achieves nothing. The light’s out, and probably has been for ages. With every step, I can feel cobwebs brushing against me as I trudge through the darkness with my hands out in front of me. Finally, my hands touch along something hard and a little dangly. It’s the step ladder that leads up to the attic. I hate to think how long it’s been just hanging down like this, unfolded and exposed to termites and spiders. I give it a light tug and grimace. It does not feel particularly stable, like it could come crashing down at any moment. But I don’t know how else to get up there, and I can hear the wheels of the police car crunching over the messy gravel driveway.

There’s no time to worry. I just have to act.

Gritting my teeth and closing my eyes, I grab hold of the step ladder and hoist myself up, scurrying from rung to rung into the filthy old attic. I open my eyes and blink a few times, struggling to let my eyes adjust to the near pitch darkness. I feel my way around, my hands getting coated in thick dust and grime. I wrinkle my nose and shiver, but I have to keep moving. I know that if I crawl forward far enough, I can find myself in the part of the attic that hangs over the front porch. That way I might have a better chance of eavesdropping on the conversation Sal is going to have with that cop. I need to know what’s going on so I can decide my next move.

If the police officer decides to come in and look around with a warrant or something, I might be in big trouble. I need my idiotic brother to keep thinking I’m dead. And if the cop finds me here, not only would Blake find out his murderous plot failed, but the cops might blame Sal for kidnapping me or something.

My heart stumbles at that thought. I don’t want to think about that, Sal being in trouble. Well, bigger trouble than he’s already in. Especially because it would be my fault. My fault for falling into his lap while all he was trying to do was lie low and hide out. My fault for being too afraid of the cops and the judgment from my employers. My fault for feeling attracted to him, and wanting to lose my virginity to him right away.

Now he’s going out on a limb for me, trying to rescue me from my own awful predicament instead of focusing on keeping himself safe. It is noble of him, but it’s dangerous as well. And I’ll be damned if I end up being the reason he goes down.

Why is the cop here?

For me or for Sal?

Then another idea occurs to me: maybe the cop is here to investigate Geoffrey Mink. After all, he was the former proprietor of this property, and from what Sal has said about him, Mink surely had plenty of run-ins with the local police for his sexual misconduct and general douchebaggery. In the attic, I keep crawling, trying to force myself to ignore how disgusting this place is. I just took a shower and now I’m covered in probably years’ worth of grime.

Gross.

Come on, Eva. Focus. You can always take another shower once you get out of here, but you have to survive this first. Keep your priorities in line, I tell myself harshly.

I freeze up at the sound of a car door slamming shut, followed by the crunch-crunch of heavy footsteps on gravel. I gulp back my fear and try to stay as still as possible. There’s some light filtering through the flimsy wooden floor of the attic where I’m crouched like an animal, and I realize that I can just barely make out the dark moving shape of Sal underneath me on the porch. The footsteps get louder and louder, until they’re no longer on gravel. They’re walking on wood. Up the steps to the porch. The cop is now standing in front of Sal. I can catch the occasional glimpse of his dark silhouette, and there’s a tense silence between the two men.

I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to muffle the sound of my labored breathing. My heart is racing so quickly it feels like I can hardly get enough air into my lungs. But I need to remain quiet so that the cop doesn’t catch wind of my location. I need him to think Sal is alone here on the property. My presence would ruin everything, disrupt the very delicate balance of safety and comfort we have here for the time being.

It feels like ages before anyone speaks.

Then, finally, Sal says calmly and coolly, “How are you today, Officer? Can I help you with anything?”

I hold my breath, waiting for the response.

The cop says slowly, “Sir, are you alone on the premises?”

My heart sinks. Oh no. That’s not a good start.

But Sal is cool as a cucumber.

“Yes, sir. Just me and my tools.”

I almost smile at how quaint and country it sounds. Sal is clearly playing a part here, trying to make himself as innocuous and innocent as possible to the cop.

“Your… your tools?” repeats the officer.

“Yes. I’m sure you’ve noticed this place is in dire need of a reboot,” says Sal. “Just bought the place and it’s going to be a lot of work bringing it back to life.”

“The property is yours?” asks the cop, sounding a little surprised. But why?

“Yes, sir. Recent purchase of mine and I’m already starting to wonder if I might have made a mistake. Bitten off a little more than I can chew,” says Sal.

“What is your name?” asks the cop. My whole body goes cold.

Don’t tell him your real name, I think, wishing I could transport these thoughts directly into Sal’s head. Lie. Make something up.

“My name? Saul Argento,” lies Sal matter-of-factly. “Nice to meet you, Officer…?”

“Officer Kennedy,” he answers. “Seneca Falls P.D.”

I almost heave an audible sigh of relief. Just local police. Not even a Rochester city cop. Suddenly this feels a lot less harrowing. I know it’s a messed-up stereotype, but I can’t help but feel less threatened by a humble small-town police officer than a street-smart city cop.

Especially in Seneca Falls. Growing up in Rochester, I have obviously been aware of Seneca Falls, though I’ve never visited. There’s not much to visit for. It’s just a tiny speck on the map with a few houses and a lot of woods. It actually never even occurred to me that Seneca Falls would have its own police force, but I suppose it makes sense.

“You know anything about the former tenant here?” asks Officer Kennedy.

“Hmm. No. I don’t think I do. I bought the property under foreclosure and by the time I arrived, the previous inhabitants were gone,” Sal says innocently. He’s doing a bang-up job of acting. Even I’m starting to be convinced.

The officer’s demeanor appears to instantly soften, and he takes on a low, conspiratorial tone. “Well, just between you and me, folks around here will be awfully glad to see the former tenant gone,” he says, reaching out to nudge Sal’s shoulder.

“Oh? Why’s that?” Sal asks, leaning forward as though he’s interested in the gossip.

“Can’t say too much about it. Police business, you know. But I can tell you that old Geoffrey Mink was one sour character. Crotchety old man holed up in this place like a recluse.”

“A recluse? Why?” Sal presses on. I’m amazed at how quickly he’s turned the tables. Now he’s the inquisitor instead of the one being questioned.

“Folks in town damn near drove him out,” Kennedy explains. “Mr. Mink was not well-liked in this neck of the woods. Always hanging around playgrounds and schoolyards, wearin’ out his welcome. Loitering. Being suspicious. Can’t tell you how many times I got called in to question him for trying to chat up an underage girl at a bus stop or something like that. One time a gym teacher caught him trying to sneak into the girls’ locker room at the high school. He was just an awful old man. A pervert. Kids up at the school used to call him Mr. Stink. Not a very nice nickname, but he good and well earned it.”

“Wow,” Sal says, letting out a low whistle. “Sounds like a terrible neighbor.”

“You betcha,” Kennedy agrees readily. “Glad to see he’s moved on. I came out here because I got a call about some strange noises, but I can see now it was probably just the sounds of construction going on. Lots of work to be done here. So, you’re gonna try and patch up the place, you said?”

“Yes, sir. It’ll be a long project, I’m sure, but I’m up for it.”

“Any particular reason why you wanted the property in the first place? Seneca Falls is a nice place, but it’s a little off the beaten track. A small town. It’s not every day we get someone brand new out here.”

“I got tired of city living,” Sal lies smoothly. “Just wanted a fresh start somewhere quiet and peaceful. Seneca Falls seems perfect for that.”

Yeah, that’s right. Butter him up, I think with a grin.

“Oh, you sure did come to the right place then, Mr. Argento,” the officer says, puffing out his chest proudly. “Well, if you have any problems or questions, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re all good neighbors out here. We look out for one another.”

“I do appreciate that, Officer. Thank you,” Sal says, and I can just picture him wearing that gorgeous, brilliant smile. “Good to meet you.”

“Great to meet you, too, neighbor,” says the officer, turning to walk away. I start to relax at the sound of his footsteps crunching over gravel. He’s heading back to his car, and soon I can wiggle out of this horrible, filthy attic once the coast is clear. But then, suddenly, the footsteps stop. I hold my breath, worried that maybe the cop has caught wind of something worth investigating further. But Sal did such a good job!

“Oh, and before I forget,” says the officer in the same jovial voice, “I would be remiss if I didn’t mention this. The whole region’s got a bulletin out about a missing person. I’m sure it has nothin’ to do with Seneca Falls, but just keep an eye out, okay? It’s a woman called Eva Wells.”

Before I can stop myself, I let out a gasp of shock to hear my own name.

A loud enough gasp that there’s no way the cop didn’t hear it.

“Whoa,” says the officer, taking a few steps closer to the porch. “What was that?”