Chapter 22: The Landlord

On the third night Evan came home from the lab at eleven and found the lock already open.

The door of 14C stood an inch ajar, with the hall light falling across the floorboards.

He pushed it with two fingers.

The flat was dark.

A figure sat in the only armchair, in the far corner, with his legs stretched in front of him.

For a second Evan's heart stopped, and then it started again, hard.

"Ross," he said.

"I didn't turn on the lights."

"That's very considerate. How did you get in?"

"I have a key."

"I have the only key."

"You have one of two."

Ethan's voice was low, and thick, and wrong.

"The building belongs to Ross Realty. It was in my parents' name. It's in mine now."

Evan switched on the light.

Ethan blinked in it.

He was unshaven, and his collar was open, and there was a whisky bottle on the floor by his foot.

It was nearly empty.

"You gave me this flat," Evan said slowly.

"I..."

"The envelope. Harbor Row, 14C, my name in your writing. I never gave you the address."

He closed the door behind him, very gently.

"I thought it was a coincidence. I thought I'd found a good building on my own."

"You did. It's good. The water pressure's good, and the boiler..."

"Ethan."

"I wanted to be sure you had hot water."

It was so absurd, and so honest, that Evan laughed once, a dry, terrible sound.

"You've been renting me my own escape."

"I haven't charged you. Not since the first month. I put it through the..."

Ethan rubbed his face.

"I wanted you to leave and still be somewhere I could see the lights."

"You watch my window."

"Every night."

"From the car."

"Yes."

"For three days."

"For three days I read your note." Ethan looked up. His eyes were bloodshot. "I can't sign it. I tried. I sat in the car with the pen, and I can't."

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