Page 38 of He Sees You

Six cameras cover the property, all hidden, all recording to drives that upload to the cloud.

If they come back without a warrant, I'll know.

If they bring a warrant, I'll know sooner.

My phone buzzes. Juliette.

"Tell me you haven't been arrested," she says without waiting for me to say a word.

"Why would I be arrested?"

"Because Celeste texted me that her father went to question you about the murders. Cain, please tell me you're not?—"

"I'm not anything," I cut her off. "The sheriff is questioning everyone."

"Good. Good." She sighs. "How was it meeting Celeste? She said you were 'intense.'"

"She was interesting."

"Cain, that's what you say about particularly challenging taxidermy. She's brilliant and gorgeous and?—"

"And your client."

"And my friend. Be nice to her if you see her again. She's having a rough time with her writing."

"What kind of rough time?"

Juliette shouldn't tell me, but she's had three glasses of wine—I can hear it in her voice. "She can't nail the dynamic between her hero and heroine. Says it feels forced. She needs inspiration for authentic obsession, but all she's had lately are mediocre men who think dinner at a steakhouse counts as romance."

"What does she want instead?"

"God, I don't know. Someone who sees her?Reallysees her, not just the successful author or the pretty face. Someone who'd burn the world down for her but also challenge her. She writes these incredible antiheroes but dates men who apologize for existing."

"Sounds frustrating."

"She literally threw her laptop at the wall last month because she couldn't write a convincing stalking scene. Said she had no frame of reference for that level of focused desire."

I smile in the darkness of my kitchen. "Perhaps the mountains will inspire her."

"I hope so. Oh—she asked about Mom and Dad today."

My hand stills on the coffee mug. "What did you tell her?"

"Nothing. Just that they died when we were young. Cain... we never talk about them."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"There's everything to talk about. The therapy I've been in for fifteen years would suggest?—"

"Juliette."

She sighs again. "Fine. But if Celeste asks you?—"

"I'll tell her they died." Which is true.

They died screaming into pillows as carbon monoxide filled their lungs, clawing at windows they couldn't open, finallyunderstanding what it felt like to be powerless. "That's all anyone needs to know."

"Do you ever think about them?"