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No response? SRSLY?

Getting worried. Call me.

Edie, call me ASAP. It’s not about the eating. Im serious.

She even left a voicemail, which makes my heart jitter around in my chest because Charlotte hates voicemail. I don’t even listen to it, just call her, my hand shaking as I hold the phone up to my ear. I can’t handle video chat this morning.

It rings twice before she answers.

“Holy shit, Edie, are you okay?”

I lean against the counter and try not to think about how I’d leaned against it last night, an apparently undead murderer’s head between my legs. I don’t even know how to answer that question.

“I’m fine,” I finally say, which isn’t remotely true. I just hope she doesn’t expect me to explain why I didn’t call her back last night. Or this morning. She knows I like to get up early.

But Charlotte lets out a long, relieved breath, and my panic tightens in my chest again. “What’s going on?” I say. “Charlotte?”

“Fuck, I was so worried.” She takes another deep breath, the rush of air filling up my ear. “Scott’s looking for you.”

I freeze. Sawyer Caldwell suddenly seems very far away. Of the two of them, he’s never actually tried to kill me.

I would never do something like that to you.

“How do you know?” The question comes out in a rasp.

“Two weaselly pieces of shit came by my apartment this morning. Early, too, like 7 AM.” I can tell how rattled she is, which just scares me even more. “They said they were PIs, that he was worried about you, that you might havehurt yourself.” She spits that last part out like its venom. “Wanted to know if I knew where you might have gone.”

My chest is so tight that it doesn’t matter how deeply I try to breathe, I can’t get enough air. The kitchen spins around in a whirl of steel appliances and sunlight.

“What’d you say?” I manage to choke out.

“Said I had no fucking idea, of course, and told them to dig up the backyard at your house.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh. “You didn’t!”

“Sure as shit I did. Not that they’ll do it. Like I said, hedefinitely hired them.” Charlotte pauses for a minute, and all I can hear is my heartbeat pounding in my ears. “I had an idea, though. Something to throw him off the trail.”

“I’m not letting you do something dangerous.”

“It’s not dangerous. You left your credit cards, remember?”

I blink. I did leave my credit cards, my bank cards, all of it. The only thing I kept was the card to my private bank account, where I squirreled away money from the low-paying nonprofit work I did as Scott’s pretty little trophy wife. My grandmother had her expensive lawyers set it up when I got married, saying every woman needs secret money of her own.

She was right about that.

“What about the credit cards?” I ask.

“I’ll start using them,” she says. “Here and there around California. Create a false trail.” I can imagine her counting off on her fingers as she talks. “I can hit San Jose in a bit. Then Berkeley—I want to meet with an art gallery up there anyway.”

It’s not the worst idea. Anything to keep him from looking toward the East Coast. Still, my heart’s still pounding up in my chest. “Just be careful,” I tell her. “They’re going to be watching you, too, you know.”

“And I’ll keep an eye on ‘em. You think I can’t skip a tail?” Charlotte laughs, but I just deepen my frown as I curl my fist up in my shirt.

“I’m sure you can,” I tell her. “But Scott has money. Resources. He’s obviously trying to keep this quiet?—”

“Edie. I’ve got you. They’re focused on you being in Cali, and we’re going to keep it that way. Got it?”

“Yeah.” I lift my gaze up from the counter, at the small little living room. Images from last night keep flashing through my head. Sawyer Caldwell sliding his long killer’s fingers into my pussy. His eyes darkening like a thunderstorm when he saw the bruises Scott ringed around my neck.