Chapter 13: Headphones

Brody looked at me, and I shook my head.

Nolan stood up without a sound and put himself between the counter and the door.

"Brody?" Heidi called again. "I can see your light under the door."

Brody crossed the kitchen on the sides of his feet and leaned his forehead against the wood.

"I'm sick," he said. "I can't have anyone in."

"I'll leave it on the mat. It's chocolate. Your favorite."

"Heidi, go home."

There was a pause on the landing.

Then a man's voice came from lower on the stairs, low and hoarse.

"Brody. Did you give anything to anyone?"

It was Derrick.

"I don't know what you mean," Brody said.

"Yes, you do. Please. Just tell me."

"Go home, Derrick."

"Derrick, he's sick," Heidi said, in her small sweet voice. "Leave him alone."

Then she said, flat and quick, "Come on."

Her shoes went down the stairs.

Derrick's didn't, not right away.

"I'm sorry," he said to the door, so quietly I almost missed it.

Then he followed her.

Brody waited until the street door slammed.

He opened his own door a crack, hooked the cake box inside with two fingers, and set it on the counter.

The lid was clear plastic.

Under it, in blue frosting, it said: Get well soon, Abby.

Only Dane called me Abby, and Heidi had picked it up from him years ago.

Now it sat on a cake in the kitchen of the man who had put the phone down.

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