Killer One ✓

Chapter 36

Lacey.

Travis' mother's house was a two story white, suburban house with perfectly cut bushes along the front and colorful flowers lining the edge of the walkway to the porch. There was a hanging plant attached to the ceiling of the small porch and a birdfeeder beside the edge. Next to the front door, a pot was overflowing with succulents and a tall, freshly-painted sign that had 'The Palmers' on it came out of it.

Travis knocked on the door while his eyes narrowed at the sign. I stepped forward so that I was beside him and blocking his view of the sign. His eyes snapped up to meet mine and a smile ghosted his face for a moment.

Footsteps echoed from inside of the house on the other side of the door and Travis raised his index finger to block the peephole.

The door opened hesitantly a few inches and before I could even see who was on the other side, it was slammed shut with the force that rivaled my own dad's ability to slam front doors. It was just our day for that, apparently.

Next to the front door, there were slim windows blocked by white curtains on the inside of the house. The curtain of the window I was in front of pulled back and then there was suddenly a teenage girl's face peering at us.

I jumped and she disappeared, the curtain swaying closed behind her.

"Who was that?" Ben asked.

"Ali." Travis made no move to enter the house even though I knew for a fact that she hadn't locked the door. "Step-sister."

That exact step-sister was heard yelling, "Where's my phone?" at the top of her lungs from somewhere in the house beyond the door.

This was too similar to the visit with my dad so even though I had heard of Ali's existence from Travis and he didn't really say anything bad about her, I still asked, "She's not going to call the cops on us, is she?"

Travis was busy picking at one of his fingernails. "No."

"What do you need it for?" someone else yelled from inside.

"Tell me where you hid it, I have to call mom!" Ali said.

Travis sighed, rolled his neck like he had a kink in it that he was trying to get out, and then knocked relentlessly on the door.

The door opened for the second time and Travis' step-brother was there, looking rather disgruntled for about two seconds until the golden boy smile that he always seemed to wear and that I recognized from therapy sessions with him appeared on his face. But that washed away as soon as he actually took in the people on his doorstep and it was replaced with genuine surprise.

Travis pushed the door open the rest of the way and walked right in, squeezing through the space he made. To his credit, he did mutter out a grunt that sounded conspicuously like a "hey," but I couldn't be sure.

Nathan Palmer, Travis' step-brother, paid no attention to the rudeness. Instead, he smiled at me. Nate had dirty blonde hair that always seemed to be falling over in his face, bright blue eyes, and a forced smile on most of the time. I knew from therapy sessions with him that his life was less than spectacular but he always looked happy to be wherever he was. He was tall, muscular, usually wearing some sort of athletic wear that suggested he was big into sports. When I first met him, I thought he'd played soccer or tennis. Something that didn't have much padding because his arms were always so golden and tan. He looked like he belonged on the beach somewhere.

But once I got to know him a little more, I learned he didn't know any sports and instead was a big geek for musicals. He was constantly recommending me some or giving me musical soundtracks that he thought I might enjoy exercising to. After my dad brought me home, I didn't have the best sleeping pattern. A few of us had a group chat back then from therapy and we could text each other when things were rough or we needed someone to chat with. There were a handful of nights that I texted the group in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, and Nate was the only one awake. He was almost always awake. I asked him once how much sleep he got on average and he just laughed.