“I will.” I hesitate but then reach out and awkwardly hug her. “Thank you for looking after us.”
“You can still stay at my place if you want to,” she offers, hugging Izzy, who has barely spoken all night. “My partner works over at the hospital and he’s on night shifts, so it will just be us.”
“Thanks, but we’ll be fine, I promise,” I say, ushering Izzy into the car. I need to be somewhere familiar right now, and all our stuff is at Dad’s. “I’ll call when we’re back.”
Alessandra waves goodbye, and Izzy and I ride home in silence, not exchanging a word until we’re out of the car and through the front door. I double- and triple-check the locks as Izzy slumps down at the kitchen table, her eyes haunted. I leave her for a second as I check all the windows, then quickly ring Alessandra and let her know we’re home safe. She makes me promise to speak to her again in the morning. I’m too tired to argue, so I agree. When I reenter the kitchen, Izzy is holding her head in her hands.
“You okay, Iz?”
“No.” She lifts her head. “Did that really happen?”
I don’t know what to say, so I try to think what my mom would do to make me feel better. Or Kim, for that matter. I find a packet of Sleepytime tea and fill the kettle before putting it on to boil. Focusing on doing something to help Izzy is good. Distracting.
“Right, you go and get ready for bed, and I’ll bring tea and chocolate in a sec.”
“Not even remotely hungry,” Izzy groans, but she pushes herself up and leaves the kitchen.
I fill two mugs with tea bags and steaming water and grab the tin of treats I found in the cupboard, then follow her. She’s already in her pajamas and under my duvet, so I put the cups down on the bedside table and snuggle in next to her, placing the treats on my lap. I eye the chocolate rolls and packets of jelly sweets, but my appetite is nonexistent too.
“This will help us sleep.” I put the box on the table and pass over a mug instead. She wrinkles her nose. “I know it’s stinky, but I’m willing to try anything to sleep after what we saw tonight.”
“Yeah, me too. Thanks.” She takes the cup and blows on the tea to cool it. “How are you so calm, Fliss?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “Once I spoke to Detective Romig and told her everything I saw, it helped, I think.”
“It didn’t make it feel even more real?”
“It did, but it also made it a case, I guess. It removed me from it a bit, like the crimes I read about.” I wince even as the words are coming out of my mouth. I sound heartless. Luckily Izzy doesn’t call me out on it, so she’s either not really listening or is choosing to let it slide.
Izzy groans. “I wish I had my phone. All I want to do is call my mom, although if she finds out what happened, she’ll be here to drag me home before I finish this tea.”
“I know. I feel bad not texting Dad, but I don’t want it to be the first thing he hears when he gets off the plane. I made Alessandra promise to wait until tomorrow morning to contact him.” I glance over at the sofa bed, which is still scattered with our stuff from earlier today. “I forgot—I have my iPad, if you want? My contacts and messages should all be synced up to it, so you can text your mom to say you’ll speak to her tomorrow? It might make you feel better.”
“That’s a good idea.” She jumps out of bed and grabs the iPad, handing it over so I can tap in the code. I watch her find her mom’s number and type quickly, smiling as she gets an almost immediate response. “Done. I told her my phone is updating. I’ll talk to her properly tomorrow, before your dad does.” She hands the iPad back and blows on her tea. “Let’s watch something for a bit?”
“Sure,” I agree, grateful for another distraction.
I flick in and out of a few apps without really taking them in and prop the case up on my lap, picking up the stinky tea as Izzy reels off films that usually make her feel better. We’re in the middle of searching for a joint favorite,Howl’s Moving Castle, when the tablet buzzes and a banner flashes across the top of the screen.
An unknown number has just added me to a group chat.
“What’s this?” I put my mug down and open the message. Izzy puts her chin on my shoulder so she can see too.
“That’s me!” she exclaims, pointing at the little icon of her face in the list of members. “Who added us?”
“I don’t recognize any of the other numbers,” I say, a shiver running down my spine. A little bubble appears on-screen.
Someone is typing.
My breath catches when the message appears.
Unknown:What happened at the art gallery? Mom got a late-night email about it being closed tomorrow due to a police investigation. Did you guys make off with something valuable?
“Oh god,” Izzy mutters, and I know exactly what she means. I’ve been so busy trying to rationalize what happened that I didn’t anticipate peopleaskingus about it. How do we even start to explain what we saw tonight? Izzy points at the screen. “You know who it is, don’t you? Noah. He mentioned setting up a group chat earlier, but his timing leaves something to be desired.”
Another message appears.
Unknown:No answer. There are only two options—either they’re in jail or the curse of the painting got them.