Fireflies were floating through my front lawn when I walked Vincent out. Their little bulbs were like stars against the utter darkness of the night. The second my eyes began to adjust, the porch light blinked on. It washed out Vincent's skin and made us appear ghostly. The two of us descended the front steps, the creaking of the wood filling in for the absence of words. 

"Thank you for having me," Vincent said. We paused at the bottom of the steps and I could barely make out the house across the street. I wondered if my hired protection was watching us from somewhere or if someone meant to kill me was hiding under the cloak of a shadow. 

"Thanks for coming." 

Both of us sounded equally as halfhearted. I knew I did because I wasn't fully present. There was so much going on in my mind that Vincent felt worlds away. Everything physical felt worlds away. It was like I was floating above my body, wondering how everything ended up the way it did and how to fix it. 

I glanced up at Vincent to see him experiencing something similar. His mouth was open like he wanted to say something and his eyebrows were pulled tight together. He closed his mouth, looked back to the house and back at me again. He shifted his weight to his other leg, tucking his hands into his pockets with a groan of frustration. 

"This made things different . . . being here, I mean." He sighed, rubbing his palm on his forehead. “Your family seems nice. I hope you know that even though I am committing to finding out the truth and responding to it accordingly, I do hope that your family is innocent of any involvement in the drug trafficking. I really do.” 

The two of us were on the same page about that. Though I loved my family, if they were truly up to something criminal, I wanted to know. I couldn’t cover for them - not when it could put us all in even more danger. If worse came to worse, I could at least have some peace that whoever the other drug traffickers were, they couldn't hurt my family if they were behind bars. 

“That’s reassuring to hear,” I said and I meant it. It was good to know that he wasn’t going to handle this case sloppily just to get it solved and move on. As long as the truth came out, I would find a way to be fine. 

A strong breeze blew by, giving me goosebumps. I tugged down on my long sleeve to hide my hands from the chill. 

“As I said yesterday, there are some things I wanted to ask you about.” 

Both of our heads whipped back to the house as a loud shout erupted from inside. It ripped through the stillness of the night. For a second, the both of us remained silent, our bodies tensed and ears listening. Then the shout was followed by laughing and more shouting. My shoulders dropped from my ears at the same time as Vincent breathed out a sigh. It was Darren being a clown for everyone in the house. I recognized his cackle anywhere. 

“What is it?” I asked, refocusing on him. 

“Were you with Darren when his coworker Ross Centino passed away?” 

Ross Centino. 

It took some thinking for me to put a face to the name. Then, once it did, I remembered exactly who he was. 

Ross was a tall, wiry man in his late thirties who often walked with a hunched back. He was freckled and ginger, with a slowly fading Scottish accent. He brought lunch from home everyday, packed in those square containers complete with reusable utensils. They were often noodle dishes that made the break room smell like beef for hours after. 

He came across as soft spoken from posture alone but I had been shocked to find that once Ross knew a person’s name, they became his best friend. When I worked at the office and when I visited post quitting, Ross would be the first to greet me. He was great at conversations. He knew how to figure out what a person’s interests were and took the time to learn a little about it just to have something to talk to people about. 

Everyone in the office took it hard when he died. He had managed the finances very diligently. There wasn’t a penny that went unaccounted for under his supervision. 

“Yeah. It was tragic when we found out he died. I think it was a car accident,” I said, trying to work out why Vincent might have been bringing this up. 

“A hit and run.” Vincent bit his lip, hesitating before continuing. “Were him and Darren close?” 

Though confused, I decided to humor him. 

“Not particularly. Darren’s only really close to the coworkers he lives with. Ross lived on his own.” 

“How did Darren take the news of his death?” 

While I thought back to the time around Ross’s death, a memory clicked into place. The night where Darren had snuck into my room via ladder and window. When he sat on my bed looking broken even before Nancy had jokingly implied I was cheating. When he lashed on in anger towards me for the first time. That had been the night Ross was pronounced dead at the sight of an empty road. 

I couldn’t remember if the news broke before or after Darren’s visit. 

But if it had been after and Darren was upset because he knew, wouldn’t he have mentioned it to me? Wouldn’t I have already known?

I shuddered. 

A nauseated feeling poured into my stomach but then I remembered Darren’s goofy chuckle and killer smile. Whatever my subconscious was implying, it was wrong. 

I couldn’t be sure of the timeline regarding Darren’s strange behavior and Ross's death. I wasn’t going to tell Vincent about something I wasn’t certain of. Instead, I thought back to how Darren had spoken kindly of Ross at his funeral and choked up as they lowered his body into the ground. 

“He was upset. He was a good coworker and a nice guy.” 

Vincent nodded. I saw something flicker in his expression as he leaned in towards me. He began to whisper, like what he was about to say was strictly confidential. 

The front door creaked open, flooding light onto us. I covered my eyes with the crook of my elbow. When they adjusted, I saw a figure outlined in a halo of light standing with half its body outside. 

“You two writing a book out here or something?” The voice was Darren’s. It was teetering on the edge of playfulness. “All you had to do was show him to the door, Mickey. Vincent’s clever enough to find his own way home.” 

Vincent gave a tight lipped smile. “I'll be on my way. Goodnight,” was all he said. 

I glanced back at Darren who was waving me over with intense urgency. I said a final goodbye to Vincent and rejoined Darren inside. He closed the door behind us, giving me a funny look. 

“What were the two of you talking about?” 

He took several steps towards me while squinting his eyes until his pupils were barely visible. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms in an animated fashion that made my nerves dissipate. There was no way he could have heard us. The lie came easy. 

“Work stuff.” 

“On your birthday?” 

I nodded and he held his face inches from mine. Then, he backed away with a huff. 

“That’s rude of him.” 

I shrugged. “He’s very dedicated to his work.” 

“Good thing I rescued you then.” He pulled me into a tight hug from behind as I tried to make the thoughts about Ross’s accident and Vincent’s questions disappear for the time being. I didn’t want Darrent to read them off my face.

Darren’s grip on me tightened. 

“Why do you have to work alone with some guy? Why not a nice old lady whose bedtime is so early she couldn’t possibly make it to your birthday party?” 

I tried to turn around to face him but I was stuck in his arms. 

“Does it bother you he was here?” 

“No,” he said, his breath hot on my neck. 

I tried to shrug away from him.  His arms around my waist felt more like restraint than a sign of affection. 

“Do you not trust me?” 

“Of course, I trust you. It’s everyone else I don’t trust.” 

I frowned, not that he could see it. I guess I knew that Darren seemed a little frazzled by the idea of me having a male coworker but I hadn’t thought his dislike of it ran this deep. A little jealousy was normal but this was unwarranted. From his point of view, Vincent and I met up a couple times a week to work on a book. What could have possibly been so threatening about that? 

I suddenly wondered what Darren and Vincent had been talking about in the living room when Kimberly and I were discussing the letter. Did Vincent say something that made Darren feel insecure? 

Insecurity was not something I often linked to Darren. To me, he had always radiated confidence. Maybe part of that was a performance. Maybe I didn't know Darren as well as I thought. 

“Well, it takes two to tango and I only want to tango with you,” I said. The lighthearted sentence had its intended effect. A satisfied chuckle shook against my back and Darren released from his hold. He spun me around to face him and made us mimic some version of the tango into the living room where everyone was cleaning up. 

                _______________

Kimberly was serious about what she said earlier. When I went into the upstairs bathroom with all my shower supplies and locked the door behind me, the first thing I did was try the toilet lid. It came off easily. I held my breath as I peered in it like it could be untrue. Kimberly wouldn’t lie about something like this. It was true. I didn’t have to see it for myself to know. 

Regardless, it was there. 

Three pill bottles with the labels scratched off and a plastic bag with a stack of cash inside. I tried to count the money without taking it out of the bag for fear of making it look tampered with. I counted about a thousand dollars. 

I placed the lid back in place and hopped in the shower, my heart beating hard against my chest. This wasn’t something I could simply ask around about. Whoever stashed the bottles and money in the toilet lid was obviously trying to hide it. They probably wouldn’t admit to anything. They’d just hide it somewhere else. 

Another scary thought evaded my head. I would have to tell Vincent.

The whole time I thought my being a part of the family would be helpful because it would protect it from the people who were after us. Now, with these suspicious items found and Vincent’s questions about Darren, I felt as though I was throwing them under the bus for the police. 

Would this kind of discovery be so surprising from an outsider’s point of view? My own father killed my mother. Then my brother-in-law’s wedding was crashed by gunmen involved in drug trafficking. Of course it would seem like my family was at the center of it all. 

But my family wasn’t bad. We were flawed like any other but not criminal. What happened with my father was an isolated incident. One evil, twisted apple shouldn’t ruin the whole bunch. I mean, he already did. He caused us endless pain but he shouldn't be able to corrupt our reputation. 

I wanted nothing more for my family to prove people wrong. I wanted them to show me they were good. 

I couldn't think about it anymore. It would send me into an endless spiral. 

Vincent’s questions about Darren were becoming my own. I couldn't help but fall into what may have been a trap Vincent set for me. He had planted seeds of doubt in my head and soon I’d be asking Darren the questions for him.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Remember to vote and comment!