You Don't Know Us - ✔️

Chapter Eight

I couldn't sleep that night. There were too many things racing through my head, like Q and Max, and how they were now staying overnight in the house with us, and Naomi's state of being, my mother's, and the way James was suddenly acting.

So instead of tossing and turning in my huge bed, I got up and decided to go for a walk around the house, maybe even go outside for some fresh air.

Downstairs, the kitchen light was on, so I poked my head through the doorway to see if anyone was there. It was Dad in his pajamas, sipping a glass of water.

"Hey," he said when he saw me. "What're you doing up so late, Steph?"

"Can't sleep," I told him, sitting on the stool next to him.

"Me neither. Your Mother is finally out, though, so I didn't want to wake her with my restlessness."

"Oh. I'm glad she's able to sleep again."

Dad had a concerned look in his eye. "Me too. But I don't know how much longer we'll be able to last on this island. It's getting to be too much, even for me. Katz said he'd talk to the police about getting us a hotel on the mainland, but I don't know how much better that would be."

My heart broke a little for my dad. I'd barely spoken to him since we'd even got here. "I wanna leave too, Dad. We all do." I paused. "But, I don't think I'm ever going to sleep at night without knowing who killed Jared."

Dad nodded. "I know, honey. You're doing such a great job of staying strong."

Behind me, I heard someone stumble into the kitchen. Spinning around, there was Q, in pajama pants and a wife beater. He looked embarrassed for interrupting us."Sorry, Mr Sullivan. Stephanie."

"No worries," Dad said, standing. "I was just leaving." He gave me a quick peck on the forehead and exited the kitchen behind Q. I tapped the now-empty stool next to me.

"Let me guess," Q said, sitting. "You've been having nightmares?"

I shook my head. "Nah. Just can't sleep lately. It's not easy when you know there's a killer around."

"Do you ever wonder if someone else is next?"

"Yeah. But I try not to think about it."

Q stared at me with his green, green eyes. They seemed like they could read me, see all the way through my skin and into my soul. I looked away, my face suddenly flushed.

"So let's not think about it," he said. "Tell me about your life back home. Jared is one of the only Americans I've ever known."

I laughed a little. "Well, it's nothing exciting. I just graduated college about a month ago. I'm taking some time before applying for a job, because, honestly, I don't really know what I want to do yet. That probably sounds bad. I don't know."

"What are your friends like? Do you have a boyfriend?"

Memories of college flashed through my mind. "I actually don't have many friends anymore. And definitely not a boyfriend," I laughed, trying to cover my sadness. Q looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to go on. "The weekend of my grandfather's funeral, three years ago, there was this big house party on my college's campus. I obviously wasn't there, which at the time sucked, because I hated missing out on all those types of things. But, that night, my group of friends and then-boyfriend got super drunk. Like, way-past-the-legal-limit- drunk. When they all got into the same car to drive home, they never made it. The car flipped on the interstate, rolled into a big valley. Not a one survived.

"I always think about how it could've been me, and I was in therapy for a long time. But it definitely tainted my college memories. I really thought I was gonna grow old with some of those girls. And now I'm here. All by myself."

Q's green eyes were still staring into mine with a sad look. "I'm really sorry that happened to you. That's really unfair."

"Well, my mom always told me that I should count myself lucky to be alive. And I am, I guess. But it doesn't seem fair that they all died and I didn't, you know?"

Q just nodded, his expression knowing. "Kind of like how Jared died and you didn't. I get it. It would definitely be a trigger for me, too."

I laughed awkwardly and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "Sorry for trauma-dumping. You're super easy to talk to."

"Don't worry about it," Q told me. "Jared said he hired me because I was a good listener."

I cocked my head. "Tell me about it. Like, working for Jared. What he was like."

"Very obsessed with maintaining the company. Didn't ever want anything to be out of place, or go wrong. I'm assuming you know this already, but Gisele Thompson was his secretary. They've had relations since before they were officially together."

I in fact did not know this.

"So however many girlfriends he's had in the past two or so years, he was always with Gisele. It was usually my job to be the lookout while they were messing around in his office. That's part of why I left, too. Jared always made me do his dirty work. It wasn't fair for me. I hated it."

"Wow," I said, actually surprised. "So Jared wasn't the perfect little angel that everyone thought he was."

"I don't think he was. Of course, there were mixed emotions in the workplace. Not that anyone would say them out loud." Q sighed. "It's complicated, but, I don't think that Gisele killed him."

"I don't, either. She wasn't even in the room when Jared was murdered."

"So someone framed her?"

"That's what I think. Whoever did it has gotta be the killer. It makes sense."

Q smiled a little. "Wasn't you, was it?"

"Oh, for sure," I smiled back. "I just look like a killer, don't I?"

"Nah. You're too pretty."