The Wright Way

Chapter 36 - The Wright Way

The police car rolls off the road, stopping by the curb. The street is empty, save for the other parked vehicles—no people, no traffic. It's too late in the night for the partygoers to be out and about.

Ms. Cruz pulls the handbrake up and switches the engine off. The wipers stop moving and the light mist of rain blurs the windscreen immediately. I take a long breath, enjoying the moment of silence after what felt like ages of noise and bustle.

"Get some rest." She glances at me. "It was a long day."

"Yeah." I rub my face, trying to revive my numb brain. "The longest."

"At least they are negotiating with the police now. The children are out, and some of the adults. It's going well. It should be resolved by the morning. They can't hide in that house forever, and they know it."

"Hope so."

"All right, let's go." She opens her door and, following her example, I get out. The cool air surprises me, and I pause for a moment, looking up, enjoying the sensation of rain on my skin. Then I wipe my face and follow Ms. Cruz across the road.

"See that Honda?" She points with her eyes as I join her on the pavement. "That's our guys. Watching your building. So, you're safe."

The car is parked down the road under a broken streetlight, making it hard to see if there's anyone inside, which is probably exactly how they intended it.

"I'll walk you upstairs."

"No need," I say, appalled by the prospect of a lady, albeit a detective, walking me home. "I can go by myself."

She smiles and pulls me by the arm. "You're our treasure, Ethan. We take no chances with you."

We ascend the stairs slowly, our wet shoes leaving imprints on the steps. Some of the lamps don't work, thankfully hiding the obscene pictures spray-painted on the walls. The doors are closed and silent, the building asleep.

On the fourth floor, an armed police officer is standing by my door.

"Officer Wilkins?" Ms. Cruz says.

The man nods, standing with his hands clasped in front of him. He's a sturdy, surly looking guy, and he only gives me a brief look over, not even trying for a polite smile or a greeting. Given that standing for hours in front of an apartment is likely not how he planned to spend the night, his attitude isn't surprising. The guys in the car downstairs at least have each other's company, and probably snacks. He's stuck here all alone.

"So?" Ms. Cruz turns around. In the weak light, her face looks greyish and tired. I hope she'll go home and catch some sleep, too.

"Thanks for walking me home, I guess," I say.

She chuckles. "It was a pleasure. Don't expect a good night kiss, though."

We exchange a quick handshake under Mr. Wilkins unsmiling gaze.

"See you in a few hours. Get some rest."

"You too," I say as she starts down the stairs.

I turn to the door, it's dark wooden surface only decorated by a peephole. I have intended to put a nameplate on it, but never got around to it. There'll be no need now, for I don't see myself staying here after all of this is over.

I reach for the handle and belatedly remember that I have no keys.

"Not locked," Mr. Wilkins mutters, not looking at me.

"Oh. Thanks."

That's good. I won't need to wake Joshua up to let me in.

I push the door and step inside. That apartment is dark but I know it well enough to navigate with my eyes closed. Moving quietly, I shut the door and pause, listening. Apart from the distant sounds of traffic, everything is quiet.

I pull my shoes off and head to the bedroom, the floor cooling my feet through the socks. It's less dark here, some streetlight getting in through the square window that looks naked without Joshua's curtains. The room feels even emptier than before, some of the things missing—such as my bedside lamp, for example, probably taken away by Batya when she was getting rid of the traces of their midnight visit. The place looks pretty much the way it did when I first saw it with the landlord, empty and uninhabited—except that it's not uninhabited now.

I approach the bed, straining my eyes, trying to distinguish Joshua's shape among the messed-up sheets and blankets. The bed is the only thing in the room that is disorderly. It's clearly been slept in, but it's empty now.

I glance at the bathroom door, expecting to see a tell-tale crack of light underneath it. There's none. My chest tightens as I look around the apartment. There's nowhere to hide, save for the wardrobe, but why would he –

"Ethan?"

The voice comes from the kitchen, flooding me with relief. He's all right. Probably just couldn't sleep and went to grab something to eat.

"Yeah, it's me." I feel my way to the kitchen. "Why're you sitting in the dark?"

My fingers find the switch and flip it up. The light fills the little kitchen, making me squint. I do register with my watering eyes that Joshua is sitting by the table, his posture rigid, but then the sharp light forces me to squeeze my eyes shut once more.

When I open them again, I realize that Uncle Zachary is sitting right behind him.