Page 63 of I Will Break You

My fingers fumble around the wall for a light switch, which I know is stupid, considering I just pulled down the entire ceiling. I flip it anyway and am not surprised when nothing happens.

I find a second switch that activates faint wall lamps, but when I turn around to look at Xero’s ghost, he’s gone. All that’s left of his presence is a broken chair and a room strewn with rubble.

“Xero?” I whisper.

His lack of answer gives me another clue to his vulnerabilities. Ghosts disappear in the light.

By the time I find my overnight bag and put on what’s left of my clothes, a heavy fist pounds on my door. I open it to find Officer Vayne standing in the hallway, his walrus mustache twitching.

The cop’s beady eyes sweep up and down my body. I’m not sure what he’s trying to find because everything is covered in dust.

“What can you tell me about what happened to Mr. Wright?”

My gaze darts to Chappy’s swinging corpse, and it takes a second for me to realize they’re one and the same.

“Miss Crowley?” he asks.

“I woke up last night to a lot of screaming, and I got scared. Then Ezekiel knocked on my door to ask if I was alright.”

He glances over my shoulder. “And the rubble?”

Shit.

I should have led with the ceiling falling down on my head. Clutching my temples, I sway on my feet.

“My medication always makes me drowsy and disoriented. The ceiling thing must have woken me first and then I heard all the screaming. I’m sorry. It’s still jumbled.”

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Your pills.”

I walk to my overnight bag, extract two bottles, and shove them in the officer’s face.

He has to squint to read the labels. “What do they do?”

“Am I a suspect?”

He bares his teeth. “This information may be helpful in our investigation.”

“If you’re suggesting that a five-foot five woman can drag a fully grown man out of bed and lift his body up in the air and hang him, then I think you’re the one who needs the pills.”

He shoves the bottles back into my hands. “How do you explain the red marks around your neck?”

“What marks?” My fingers twitch toward my throat, which is still raw from being suspended from a noose.

He glances up at the ceiling, his eyes darkening. “Ms. Cymbal and Mr. Janus were woken up by a crash and went upstairs to find Mr. Wright hanging. I think the murderer tried to hang you and failed.”

My eyes widen. Maybe he’s not so useless, after all. “Oh.”

“Ms. Greaves, I believe tonight was supposed to be a double murder.”

My brows rise, and I step back. “You finally believe I have a stalker?”

He nods. “Parisii Drive is no longer safe for you. Someone out there wants you dead. Is there anywhere you can go?”

I shake my head.