A Shattered Heart (Fractured Lives 2)

"We said hi but that was it."

The officer jotted my answer down in his notepad. "Was he still on his patio when you returned?"

"I don't know," I answered, glancing back at Carlos' draped body. It was like a train wreck I couldn't seem to look away from. "I didn't go back up to my apartment after my run. I headed over to my friend's for the night. Do you know who did this?" I asked. An image of Carlos' guest from a few weeks ago filled my head, making me shiver despite the near ninety-degree temperatures outside.

"We have a few leads. Do you have somewhere you can go until we finish up here?"

"Yeah, I can go to my parents'," I answered, not adding that they would shit when they heard about this. I had a feeling my days at this complex had come to an end. Seeing Carlos on the ground in front of me was all the convincing I needed.

"That sounds like a good idea. Give me your number and I'll give you a call when we're finished up here. If you remember anything else about last night, you can let me know then." I nodded, heading back to my car.

My feet carried me to my vehicle despite the fact that my knees were shaking. Sliding into my car, I fumbled for my keys, but my hands were trembling too badly to slide them into the ignition. It was like a scene from a movie. After several attempts, I finally got the key to go in, but I knew I was in no shape to drive. Pulling my phone out, I dialed the first number I could think of. I wasn't aware I was crying until the voice answered on the other end.

"Kat?" the voice asked, etched in worry. "What's the matter? Did something happen?"

"Can you come get me?" I whispered, ignoring his questions. "I'm in my car in front of my apartment." I hung up and rested my head against my steering wheel. Tears poured from my eyes in a free-for-all. I barely knew Carlos but his death was like an open wound.

By the time the familiar jeep pulled up beside my car, my tears had dried up, though I was still shaking. Brian barely put his jeep in park before bolting out of it and striding around to my side of the car. He pried my door open and pulled me out. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, cupping my face and searching for visible injuries. His eyes darted toward the ambulance still parked in front of my building. I had the feeling he was ready to haul me over to the paramedic.

I shook my head so he would know I wasn't hurt. "It's not me," I reassured him. "Carlos is dead." My eyes filled with tears again.

"The drug dealer?"

"He was my friend too," I clarified.

"I'm sorry," Brian said, pulling me close. "How did he die?"

I closed my eyes, wishing I could get the image of Carlos' sheet-covered body out of my head. "He was stabbed."

Brian stiffened and pulled away. "Get in," he ordered, opening the passenger door of his car.

Any other time I would have bristled at being told what to do, but I didn't think I was capable of making any decisions at that moment.

"My purse," I said weakly as Brian shuttled me into the jeep.

He nodded, reaching into my car and grabbing my purse and phone. He locked my car with the remote before handing me everything. I sat back in my seat, cradling my purse against my chest. Carlos was dead. How was it a person could go through their entire childhood without being touched by tragedy but the moment they stepped into adulthood they were bombarded with it? Adulting sucked major monkey asses.

Brian pulled out of my complex and the weight on my chest lifted slightly as the distance between my building and us grew. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, relieved to be gone. It was probably a mistake to call Brian. After last night I was surprised he'd come, especially since he'd accused me of being selfish. I was pretty sure calling him in to rescue me fit into the selfish category, considering the fact I hadn't apologized for my behavior the night before.

I opened my eyes to do just that but noticed he was going the wrong way. I'd assumed he was taking me to my parents' house, though I had no idea how I would tell them about Carlos, which is why I called Brian first. "Where are we going?" I asked as we neared the college campus.

"My apartment. I've been staying in it since practice started back up."

He pulled into a complex less than a mile from the campus. It was the same complex Dad had tried to talk me into a year ago. He felt it was a happy compromise from actually living on campus. At the time I'd balked at the close proximity to the college, craving more separation. Now it felt like a haven. The parking lot wasn't covered in potholes or broken-down vehicles. Every light in the parking lot looked like it was in functioning order. More importantly, the shady elements of my own complex were glaringly missing.

"You okay?" Brian asked, turning to look at me after shutting the car off.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "Someone I knew was murdered where I live. It feels unreal, but this isn't some script for a bad TV crime drama. I don't even know how I'm going to tell my dad. He's been after me to move for almost a year now."

"You're not living there anymore," Brian said with authority, climbing from the car and coming around to my side where I was still rooted to my seat.

"You can't tell me where I can live," I told him when he opened my door.

/> He reached a hand in, helping me from the car. "Do you want to live there?" he asked, bracketing his arms on the roof of his car and holding me in place.

I weighed his words in my head. Did I want to still live in my apartment? I pictured returning to my apartment and walking by the spot where Carlos had been murdered. A shiver traveled up my spine as I pictured myself climbing my stairs trying to avoid the shadows. Could I do that? A resounding no answered my question. "Well, no, but it has to be my decision," I stated.

"Fine, as long as you know that you'd be moving regardless," he said, moving in closer and tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.