If it’s drugs, they do an autopsy. People don’t take rufies on their own. They’d find them and look into it.’
More silence.
‘I still think he can hang himself. They won’t do an autopsy if they find him hanging, will they? We can write a suicide note mentioning . . . I’ll copy his signature off his ID.’
‘But where? Not here. They’d wonder how he got in. Not to mention why he’d killed himself someplace he doesn’t even belong.’
‘Right.’
‘So we’d have to move him.’
Involuntarily, Sebastian shivered but they didn’t notice. Which meant they weren’t looking at him. Which meant he could dare to open his openable eye. He did, just a crack, and peered across the room. Evan and Sty sat deep in thought, one on a mattress, the other on a chair.
‘The woods?’ Evan suggested. ‘It’s right here. No one would see us—’
‘But it’s too close to the house. A body found there casts suspicion our way. Nobody else has access to it.’
So he was in a house near some woods. Which didn’t mean much; could be almost anywhere around Ithaca. Unless . . . maybe they were still in Evan’s fraternity. Of course – Sebastian remembered the woods out back, running into them bare-assed.
‘Or we can drive him out to the country. Out near the Falls. It’ll be months before anyone finds him.’
Damn. Sty stood. Sebastian closed his eye, heard Evan’s chair scrape the floor. They were getting up. Oh God, were they going to take him now?
‘Fact is,’ Evan said, ‘he looks pretty banged up.’
‘I doubt his own mama would recognize him.’
‘I told you. He pissed me off.’
‘Okay, okay. So we put it in the note. He writes that he’s been mugged by some violent homophobe, and he can’t take it any more. So he hangs himself. What do you think?’
‘I’m not a homophobe.’
‘Christ, Evan. This isn’t about you—’
‘Even so.’
‘It’s a fucking suicide note.’
‘Okay. Fine. I get it.’
‘And, along that line of thought, we need to untie him. A suicide wouldn’t have restraint marks.’
‘Brilliant, Sty. What if he wakes up?’
‘Seriously? Look at him. His leg – he’s not going anywhere.’
Someone came close; Sebastian lay limp. Hands messed with his ankles, then his wrists. His stomach twisted, lungs ached with fear. Oh God. He didn’t dare exhale.
‘So what time’s your date?’
‘I’m expected to pick up the lovely Ms. Alicia Lawrence at . . . Oh shit, in twenty minutes.’
‘Can’t believe you’re with a fuckin’ townie.’
‘A townie with velvet lips, Evan. Don’t underestimate the skills of the locals. You’re staying here tonight?’
‘After that Christmas gig.’
‘Good. Because, frankly, I don’t want this to get fucked up worse than it is already. The whole idea – our whole reason for doing this was to conduct a study—’
‘No worries.’ Evan sounded downright cheery. ‘I’ll be here. And whatever happens, it’s all good, part of the process. We’re learning as we go, honing our skills. We’ll do better next time.’
‘Bullshit. You almost fucking let him get away . . .’
The conversation faded as footsteps moved away. A door closed. As soon as Sebastian heard the click of the lock, he lifted his arms, wiggled the seven fingers that could move, and tried to sit up. His damaged ribs slowed him down, but when he tried to move his legs, the pain was excruciating. Paralysing. The drugs were wearing off. His right knee was the size of a melon. In fact, the whole leg looked purple, inflated and balloon-like: the ankle, foot, even his toes. Never mind. He was alone and untied. He had to get out somehow. Fast. And without making noise.
The door was locked, but there was a window. Slowly, grimacing with pain, he used his left hand to shove his right leg off the bed he’d been lying on. Slid his other leg over the side and tried to stand on it. Wobbled. Flopped back onto the bed. Caught his breath. Tried again and
More silence.
‘I still think he can hang himself. They won’t do an autopsy if they find him hanging, will they? We can write a suicide note mentioning . . . I’ll copy his signature off his ID.’
‘But where? Not here. They’d wonder how he got in. Not to mention why he’d killed himself someplace he doesn’t even belong.’
‘Right.’
‘So we’d have to move him.’
Involuntarily, Sebastian shivered but they didn’t notice. Which meant they weren’t looking at him. Which meant he could dare to open his openable eye. He did, just a crack, and peered across the room. Evan and Sty sat deep in thought, one on a mattress, the other on a chair.
‘The woods?’ Evan suggested. ‘It’s right here. No one would see us—’
‘But it’s too close to the house. A body found there casts suspicion our way. Nobody else has access to it.’
So he was in a house near some woods. Which didn’t mean much; could be almost anywhere around Ithaca. Unless . . . maybe they were still in Evan’s fraternity. Of course – Sebastian remembered the woods out back, running into them bare-assed.
‘Or we can drive him out to the country. Out near the Falls. It’ll be months before anyone finds him.’
Damn. Sty stood. Sebastian closed his eye, heard Evan’s chair scrape the floor. They were getting up. Oh God, were they going to take him now?
‘Fact is,’ Evan said, ‘he looks pretty banged up.’
‘I doubt his own mama would recognize him.’
‘I told you. He pissed me off.’
‘Okay, okay. So we put it in the note. He writes that he’s been mugged by some violent homophobe, and he can’t take it any more. So he hangs himself. What do you think?’
‘I’m not a homophobe.’
‘Christ, Evan. This isn’t about you—’
‘Even so.’
‘It’s a fucking suicide note.’
‘Okay. Fine. I get it.’
‘And, along that line of thought, we need to untie him. A suicide wouldn’t have restraint marks.’
‘Brilliant, Sty. What if he wakes up?’
‘Seriously? Look at him. His leg – he’s not going anywhere.’
Someone came close; Sebastian lay limp. Hands messed with his ankles, then his wrists. His stomach twisted, lungs ached with fear. Oh God. He didn’t dare exhale.
‘So what time’s your date?’
‘I’m expected to pick up the lovely Ms. Alicia Lawrence at . . . Oh shit, in twenty minutes.’
‘Can’t believe you’re with a fuckin’ townie.’
‘A townie with velvet lips, Evan. Don’t underestimate the skills of the locals. You’re staying here tonight?’
‘After that Christmas gig.’
‘Good. Because, frankly, I don’t want this to get fucked up worse than it is already. The whole idea – our whole reason for doing this was to conduct a study—’
‘No worries.’ Evan sounded downright cheery. ‘I’ll be here. And whatever happens, it’s all good, part of the process. We’re learning as we go, honing our skills. We’ll do better next time.’
‘Bullshit. You almost fucking let him get away . . .’
The conversation faded as footsteps moved away. A door closed. As soon as Sebastian heard the click of the lock, he lifted his arms, wiggled the seven fingers that could move, and tried to sit up. His damaged ribs slowed him down, but when he tried to move his legs, the pain was excruciating. Paralysing. The drugs were wearing off. His right knee was the size of a melon. In fact, the whole leg looked purple, inflated and balloon-like: the ankle, foot, even his toes. Never mind. He was alone and untied. He had to get out somehow. Fast. And without making noise.
The door was locked, but there was a window. Slowly, grimacing with pain, he used his left hand to shove his right leg off the bed he’d been lying on. Slid his other leg over the side and tried to stand on it. Wobbled. Flopped back onto the bed. Caught his breath. Tried again and
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