Panic Attack

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, you’re looking at me… strangely.”

“I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how awful all of this is.”

Her father seemed incredulous, like he wasn’t buying this explanation, but then he said, “Oh, Clements talked to the Millers next door, and JoA

“So?” Marissa asked.

“So,” her father said suddenly agitated, “the other day, before I found the note from Tony, when I came in the house the dog was barking, too. I thought it was a little unusual at the time. I mean, the dog knows us, right? He never barks at us.”

Marissa, distracted, barely paying attention, said, “I don’t get it.”

“It means Tony was here again.” Now her father was practically yelling, and Marissa, frightened, backed away a few steps. “The dog was barking both times, and we know Tony was here once, right? Clements said this sounds interesting, but I don’t think he really gets it. This is another thing I’m talking to my lawyer about, though. There have to’ve been other witnesses; somebody must’ve seen Tony coming or going. What’s wrong? Why’re you moving away from me?”

“I’m not,” Marissa said.

Her father glared at her, something in his eyes reminding her of the way he’d looked when he’d gleefully revealed his affair to her and her mother. Then he said to her, “You do believe me, don’t you?”

“Of course I believe you,” she said.

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Hey,” Xan said.

She hadn’t seem him enter the dining room from behind her, and she was so startled she might’ve shrieked.

“Sorry,” Xan said. “Just wanted to see how you two were doing.”

Marissa held his hand, relieved he was here.“We were just… talking about the funeral,” she said. “It’s tomorrow morning.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help you out, just let me know,” Xan said to Adam.

“Thanks, but I think we’re okay,” Adam said, looking at Marissa. “At least I hope we are.”

Marissa and Xan went upstairs.

In her room, she whispered to him, “Oh my God, he did it. He really fucking did it.”

twenty- two

Joh

He pulled down his black ski mask and started walking faster, until he was about twenty yards behind them; then, right when the guy looked back over his shoulder, Joh

Joh

“Please… don’t shoot him,” the woman said.

Yeah, definitely not a New Yorker.

“Just gimme the fuckin’ ring, bitch,” Joh

“Take it easy,” the guy said. He was tall and thin and had the same bumpkin accent as the girl. “We don’t want any trouble, yo.”

Yo. Like he thought he was talking street and that would, what, save him?

Joh

“Give him the ring,” the guy said to the woman.

“I can’t. It’s my grandmother’s.”

“Give it to him, goddamn it.”

“Please,” the woman said to Joh

Joh

Joh

“Thanks, guys,” Joh

He’d got what he wanted. No reason not to be polite now, right?

He walked away quickly. After he turned the corner he jogged a few blocks, and then continued home at a normal pace.

He wished he could sell the ring right away. He knew he could get a thousand for it, maybe more, from any pawnshop, and he didn’t like to hold on to the things he stole, especially jewelry. Jewelry, especially rings, was the type of stuff that people wanted back. Sometimes he’d dump stolen jewelry for a fraction of what it was worth just to get rid of it. After all, he wasn’t an idiot. That was the difference between him and every other criminal in the world.

But he needed the ring, to give to Marissa when the time was right. Then when she was dead, like her parents, he could pawn it off and make his thousand bucks. Not that a thousand bucks would mean anything to him then.

Yeah, it would’ve been nice if Adam Bloom had come home on time and Joh

After the movie, Joh

Joh