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“Let me correct myself – I do not require you to talk. In fact, all I require from you is a ready ear. Please, listen.”

I slumped onto the sofa. This couldn’t be happening. I should be afraid of Adam. I’d already seen for myself who he associated with – though he’d seemed like a decent enough guy when we’d met at Jolt. But as I looked up at him standing by the fireplace, the milky afternoon light highlighting the silvery shades of his blonde hair, I realised why I wasn’t panicking. It wasn’t dark yet.

“You’re not a vampire?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“Of course not,” he pulled a face. “But that was an effective segue into why I’m here.”

With those few words, I understood he’d never been who I thought he was. There was no way he’d been at the coffee shop by coincidence.There’s always more to it, Erin.

Adam took a seat on the other, less comfortable sofa across from me, smoothed the creases from his shirt, and entwined his fingers together before him – watching me all the while.

“So Wyatt is a friend of yours,” I stated dully, throwing out all pretences.

“Aren’twefriends?” he asked, his eyes penetrating. I’d forgotten how attractively, intimidatingly blonde he was.

“I barely know you, Adam. I’ve met you once – which I’m guessing was no accident – and now, somehow, here you are.” My tone was as neutral as I could manage, but my frustration seeped through.

“Yes. If you recall, I did try to contact you in a less invasive manner. But since you failed to respond, my hand was forced.” He leaned forward, his voice urgent. “Izzie is here. I have no doubt you’re already aware of who she is and so on… but unfortunately, I am here to tell you she is not involved in this particular… spree.”

“Of course you’d say that,” I retorted. “You seemed pretty chummy, last time I saw you both.”

“I am no friend of Isabel Wyatt. She and I may have known each other a long time, but I would insist thatbarely tolerated acquaintanceis a more apt description.” A sneer marred his mouth for a moment before he expertly hid it.

I shook my head. “Then why have you come to defend her? I was ready to believe she wasn’t even in the city until I saw the two of you at Maggie’s.”

“The woman from the coffee shop?” He paused in thought, and an odd look passed over his face. “Yes, that would make sense…” he spoke to himself. “But loath as I am to admit it, Izzie has nothing to do with this.”

“Who then?”

Adam sighed and crossed his legs. “Nick. Murray, or whatever he’s going by these days.”

Surprised, I was certain Adam read my expression before I could hide it. “Keep talking.”

“You see, Nickisa good friend of mine. And reformed, one might say. On a mission of redemption, if you want to be dramatic about it. But Izzie is convinced that these deaths… first your friend, and now I suppose, the waitress too—”

“Jonathan and Maggie,” I corrected.

“Yes, yes.” He dismissed my words with an impatient gesture. “Izzie believes Nick is behind it all. The style of it, you see. She’s seen it all before. And I’m inclined to agree that he may have… relapsed.”

“Right. So, I’m supposed to accept she’s identified another murderer that conveniently puts her in the clear?” I stood up, shaking my head. “I don’t know you that well, Adam, but I can tell you’re not an idiot. You must know how that sounds.”

“I understand—” he began, but before he could finish the front door swung open, wind gusting through the hallway. Seconds later, Tom stepped in, a soggy paper bag in one handand a bent umbrella in the other.

“Hi?” he said blankly, looking between us. “Am I, erm… interrupting something?”

I glared at Adam, and he stood apologetically. “Adam was just leaving.”

He sighed loudly but didn’t protest. “Very well.”

He straightened his coat out with a little flourish. Tom stepped aside as he strode out of the still-open door, paling visibly as he watched him leave.

I unpacked the sandwiches in silence, and we ate together without speaking. I’d been avoiding difficult conversations with Tom for days, so now was the perfect time to break that and explain what was going on. But how do you start something like that?Hey, Tom – that guy who was here just now? Yeah, he’s friends with that mass-murdering vamp you were telling me about. You know, the one I didn’t believe was even here?

I chewed slowly, barely tasting the food. I was already getting the details tangled up. First, there’d been Wyatt. Now this Murray character had been thrown into the mix. And technically, I’d met Adam before everything – even Maggie’s murder. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved. Fuck, this was so much more than I’d signed up for – and the scariest thing? The common element in these deaths could well beme.

So how could I explain myself to Tom? The one friend I’d got left, who hadn’t been driven away yet even though the last murder had been his would-be-girlfriend. The more I dwelled on it, the more it felt likemychoice to get involved in what went on in the city, way back when, might be the reason we were a target now.

I piled up the lunch plates and took them through to the kitchen. Tom cleared his throat behind me, and I jumped. I hadn’t even realised he’d followed me.Keen observation skills.