Page 177 of Chalk Outline

Last night was my birthday, Halloween. We watched our favorite movies, had an amazing dinner Reeve made for us, played with Titan, and made love until he had to leave.

I glance around, and my eyes land on a man with a trench coat and Oxford shoes across from me. An unsettling feeling twists inside me. He looks at me, brings his cigarette to his mouth, and lights it.

I zoom in on the lighter in his hand—the same one Grandma has.

I wouldn’t miss it.

Titan barks, but not as aggressively as he would toward someone who heads in my direction.

“Good job, boy,” I praise, petting his head. “Sit.”

Titan sits squarely, eyes still on the man, ears perked up, chest puffed out.

Warning flashes in his eyes.

The man walks toward me in a carefree way, giving off a relaxed vibe. A police badge hangs from his neck, and a faint smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“Good morning, ma’am. I’m Detective James Moore, criminal investigations division. I’m here to investigate your husband’s case. Can we have a word?”

It was all staged, meaning he’s working for my grandma. Reeve said they were operators.

“We think that the notes mean something,” Mitch draws my attention back to the counter, where he rearranges the notes.

“It’s a game that someone plays to mess with my mind,” I reply.

“It’s more than that,” Braxton continues. “We don’t think it’s just about you and whoever sent them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. They love to play games,” Mitch suggests, brushing his short stubble. “They created murder games for their victims. What’s next?”

My eyes widen. “Most of the notes were whimsical. Then it started to seem like a dare, like they’re trying to get me to act a certain way. Then I was attacked. Whoever did this knew it was going to happen.”

“There is going to be an attack,” Braxton concludes, dragging his thumb across his lip ring.

“Where?” Mitch asks, running his tatted fingers through his hair in frustration. “He is a powerful man who has connections worldwide.”

I settle on the stool beside the small island. “Obviously, if he manipulated everyone and created a criminal underground world under my grandma’s nose.”

“Do you really think your grandma didn’t know about this?” Braxton asks cautiously. “She knows everything.”

“But she doesn’t know where he will attack or how, so she has to prepare all her teams and facilities in advance. He’s not working alone. She may suspect he is a traitor, but she doesn’t know who he’s involved with.” I cough and take a deep inhale. “We’re the bait.”

“More like a distraction,” Mitch corrects.

“Maybe,” Braxton adds. “But that means we might not stop the attack on time.”

“We’re not here to stop it,” I note. “We’re here to stall it. I guess you were right. It’s a game of survival.”

A hush falls over the room.

“There better not be zombies in that hellhole,” Mitch exclaims, stepping back to wash his face in the sink. Braxton glances at me, barely holding his smile as he rolls his eyes.

I bite back my laughter as well.

“I need you to take me there.” I stand up, and the room starts spinning. I fall back onto the stool. “Oh, shit.” I cradle my head.

“You need to take it easy,” Braxton lowers his voice. “It wasn’t a bee sting. Someone shot you with a tranquilizer arrow. It’s sedative, and what they gave you can cause hallucinations and vertigo. We’ve come across it before.”