Page 28

Bob doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even smile. He just stares at me with those unblinking eyes, and I feel like a bug under a microscope. My skin prickles, and I busy myself with unclipping Fluffy’s leash from the table.

“Are you sexually active with him?” he asks, his voice flat, like he’s asking about the weather.

My head snaps up, and I glare at him. “Excuse me? That’s not an appropriate question.”

He doesn’t even flinch. Just keeps staring at me, his expression blank. I half expect him to apologize, but instead, he tilts his head slightly, like he’s considering something.

“Do you think Mr. Ramone cares about you deeply?” he asks, his tone unchanged.

I blink, caught off guard. The question feels like a punch to the gut, and I don’t know how to answer. My mind races, trying to figure out what he’s getting at, why he’s asking these things. I take a step back, putting some distance between us.

“I… I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” I say, my voice sharper than I intended. “Look, Fluffy’s all set. You can take him now.”

I hand him the leash, but he doesn’t take it right away. He just stands there, staring at me, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s even human. There’s something off about him, something I can’t quite put my finger on. Finally, he takes the leash, his fingers brushing against mine. His skin is cold, and I pull my hand back quickly.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice still flat. He turns and walks toward the door, Fluffy trotting beside him. Just before he leaves, he pauses and looks back at me. “Be careful, Miss Wilcox.”

The door closes behind him, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My heart’s pounding, and I feel like I’ve just been through an interrogation. I glance at the time. Five minutes to closing. I can’t wait to get out of here.

I pull out my phone the second the door closes behind Bob, my fingers trembling as I dial Lanz’s number. It rings once, twice, then goes straight to voicemail. His smooth, confident voice fills my ear, but it’s not him. It’s just a recording.

“Hey, it’s me,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Something weird just happened at work. This guy came in, and he was… off. He asked me about you. About us. I don’t know, it freaked me out. Call me when you get this, okay?”

I hang up and stare at the screen for a moment, half expecting him to call back immediately. When he doesn’t, I shove the phone into my pocket and get back to work. Cindy’salready gone, and I’m left alone with the hum of the fluorescent lights and the faint smell of wet dog.

By the time I finish closing up, the sun’s dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows across the street. I step outside, locking the door behind me, and glance around. Everything looks normal—tourists snapping photos, locals hurrying home, the usual buzz of Sunny Cove’s downtown. But the back of my neck prickles, like someone’s watching me.

I scan the crowd, but no one stands out. Just faces, all of them blending together. Still, I can’t shake the feeling. I stick to the busiest streets, weaving through groups of people, my heart pounding with every step. Every time someone brushes past me, I flinch.

When I finally reach my apartment building, I’m almost running. I’m halfway up the stairs when I hear voices—Cindy’s laugh, high and bright, and then a deeper, familiar tone. My stomach drops.

I round the corner, and there he is. Bob. Standing at my door, talking to Cindy like they’re old friends. Cindy’s leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed, grinning like she’s in on some joke.

“Tyler!” she says, spotting me. “This guy says he knows you. He’s been waiting for, like, ten minutes. I was just keeping him company.”

Bob turns to look at me, his expression blank. “Miss Wilcox,” he says, his voice flat. “We need to talk.”

My mouth goes dry. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at me with those unblinking eyes. Cindy glances between us, her grin fading.

“Uh, should I… go?” she asks, her voice uncertain.

“No,” I say quickly, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. “Stay.”

Bob tilts his head slightly, like he’s considering something. “This is a private matter,” he says, his tone unchanged.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know you,” I snap, my heart racing. “And I don’t want to talk to you. So whatever it is, you can say it in front of her.”

Cindy raises an eyebrow, looking from me to Bob and back again. “Uh, okay. What’s going on?”

Bob doesn’t take his eyes off me. “I’m here to warn you,” he says. “About Alonzo Ramone.”

My stomach twists. “What about him?”

“He’s not who you think he is,” Bob says, his tone flat. “And if you continue to associate with him, you’ll be in danger.”

Cindy snorts. “Danger? What, is he, like, a mob boss or something?”