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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

EDIE

Two days later, I’m back in the cabin on the old campgrounds, with its electricity and central heating and designer furniture. This time, though, Sawyer’s with me.

I lean up against the counter, squeezing my phone in one hand. My heart pounds in my chest. It took two days for me to work up the courage to call Scott, and I decided that if I was going to go through with this then I needed to do it here in the cabin. Who knows what Silicon Valley tech bro bullshit he has that can track my phone. I don’t want him showing up at Sawyer’s church with a SWAT team.

I take a long, deep breath. Sawyer is beside me, watching me, not saying anything. I asked him to be here with me while I do this. Even though it’s just a phone call. Even though there’s a chance Scott won’t even pick up.

He’ll pick up. He wants this resolved. I know him. If there’s anything I know about him, it’s how controlling he is. How focused.

It never occurred to me before, but it does now—I’m probably not the first person he’s tried to kill.

“You need to call him,” Sawyer says softly. “Get him out here as quick as you can.”

“I know.” I’ve already gone through all the arguments in my head, and I know this is the best way. Scott wants me dead or controlled. He’ll pay off any authorities he needs to see that happens.

“The weather’s turning,” Sawyer says. “A nor’easter’s gonna come through soon. If we can time it to the storm, that’ll work in our favor.”

“A nor’easter—” I shake my head. “How can you possibly know that?”

Sawyer shrugs. “Same way I know when you’re in trouble, perfect prey.” He cups the side of my neck so he can pull me toward him, an embrace I happily accept. He kisses my forehead. “I just sense things. Now call this piece of shit and say what you need to say to get him out here.”

I nod against his head, then swipe open my phone. Unblock Scott’s number. My hands shake the whole time, but Sawyer keeps massaging my neck, his touch reassuring.

I take one more deep breath.

And then I call up Scott on the speaker phone.

It rings twice. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest, and I stare down at his name on my phone,Scott Hensner,how I put it in when I first met him at a gala just after college. Like he’s a business contact.

On the third ring, he answers.

“Edie.” His voice is flat, emotionless. “There you are.”

I look over at Sawyer. He doesn’t look like my Sawyer. He looks like a killer.

“Scott.” I clear my throat and hold the phone close to my lips. “I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You know I’ve been looking for you.” His voice tilts somewhat and takes on a faked layer of concern. “I was worried about what had happened to you.”

“Is that why you hired that PI?”

A pause on the other end. I decided, and Sawyer agreed, that it was best to pretend that I had seen the first PI but not the second. And Scott’s pause lasts long enough I suspect he’s formulating his own lie.

“Of course, Edie. Although I’m curious why you didn’t listen to what he had to say.”

Does Scott know that I know he wants to kill me? I can’t overthink this. Scott is cruel and shallow, but he isn’t stupid. It’s that combination that made him his millions.

“He said you wanted me to come home.”

“I do.”

He answered too quickly. Trying to cover his tracks.

“I’m not ready for that.”

Sawyer watches me as I speak. His expression is unreadable. He almost doesn’t even look human.