Page 20 of The Guy Next Door
“This is good timing,” I say. “I wasn’t sure what I was gonna do for dinner. Wanted to order a pizza, but kind of got to save up my money to stay here. My rent before this was only six hundred, and this is a little under two thousand.”
“You like pizza? What kind?”
His head jerks subtly and his face twists up, like he realized what a weird question that was. Almost seemed instinctual, like something he would have asked anyone. Then he realized he was asking the creep next door.
“I usually go for something pretty basic, like pepperoni. If I’m real adventurous, I’ll do chicken Alfredo. Really very basic guy. I mean, I have my steel oats for breakfast, and then I’ll make a roast beef sandwich for lunch. Maybe eat some canned soup or chili for dinner.”
He stares at me, looking serious, as he did when I was telling him all that messed-up shit earlier.
“What?”
“I can’t imagine eating like that.”
“This is how we ate as kids, so I guess it’s normal to me.”
He’s still staring at me, like he’s trying to make sense of why kids would eat like that, so I try to get him off it.
“Bon appétit,” I say, and he watches me take a bite of the chili.
I close my eyes as a piece of spaghetti squash hits the roof of my mouth, the bottom of the spoon sliding over my tongue. There’s a hint of spice; I’ve only had two meals from him, and I can tell he likes spices.
“Fuck,” I say. “This is even better than the stroganoff. Not that it wasn’t good. It was amazing.”
“If you’re real good, I packed another cookie.”
“Then I guess I’ll be real good.”
He chuckles, and I’m wondering how the hell this is happening. What’s going on? Maybe this was how he was feeling all through our chat this morning.
I lick my lips and take a drink of the bottle of water he set out.
After we’ve both taken a few bites, I’m still on edge. Want him to put me out of my misery. “Am I gonna have to finish before you tell me?”
He swallows some coleslaw, then says, “I went to the station like you told me to. Talked to an officer who added some notes to the incident report and took the flash drive. They said they’d pass it all on to Detective Roth.”
“And you haven’t heard from her?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Interesting because she called me earlier. I didn’t answer because I wanted to wait and see what you said before I start lying my ass off.”
“I found a happy middle ground between the story you suggested and something closer to the truth. Said I met you, and you told me about the post. That we got to talking and you moved in next door before this thing happened.”
“That was clever.”
“Figured no reason to commit a felony by lying to a cop.”
“Yeah, that’s how I play it.”
It’s a relief to hear. Not that Detective Roth isn’t going to give me hell about this, but at least we don’t have to get into the specifics of how we actually met…and they have some reliable evidence that could help them get their act together and do something to make sure Leif’s safe.
“I don’t know what was in my head,” he goes on. “I guess from watching so much TV, I had this thought that they were gonna swoop me into an interrogation room and try to get as much information as they could, but they just gave me Detective Roth’s card. Told me shemightgive me a call.”
“Like I said before, it’s so little to go off of, and Roth isn’t convinced the two disappearances are connected. Young guys, they go missing sometimes, that’s what she told me. If we had that fucking letter, I think we’d have something, but—”
“You didn’t mention Michael was your brother.”
I’m quiet.