Page 82 of His Twisted Game

What was she getting at?

“A strong drink,” she said.

I didn’t need alcohol. Not when my head was like this.

“Water, please,” I said.

“Come on. You had fun at the nightclub, right?”

“Do you want me to have a puke fest in your bathroom?”

“Fair point,” she said. “Anyway, what happened to this guy? I’m making you a fancy soda water, by the way. I used to drink this mocktail for hangovers.”

“I broke it off. I feel like I lost him, or that I never knew him in the first place,” I said. She walked to the kitchen. Then quietly, I added, “Maybe it would have been better if we had never met.”

“It sounds like he was pretty manipulative from the get-go,” she said loudly. A few seconds later, she handed me a glass with clear bubbly liquid in it, a lime on the edge.

Maybe Sawyer was right. Maybe he had been real all along. I just didn’t believe him.

I took a sip, lime hitting my taste buds. “This is good,” I said. “Thanks.”

She winked. “See, Fi. I know what you like. Trust me. You’ll thank me for it later.”

I tossed it back, hoping it would help with my stomach and my overall mood. Then I stared at the ceiling fan as it spun around.

“It sucks to lose someone you love,” Erica said. Her voice seemed far away, even though she was right next to me. A relaxing tingling sensation spread through my arms and legs. I tried to count the fan blades, but they smudged together in one circular blade.

“My husband died recently. But I’m still here,” she said.

“I didn’t know you had a husband,” I said.

“I don’t anymore. He was killed.”

The room spun faster, my vision blurring with it. Stars appeared in my peripherals.

He was killed?

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“Whoa. Are you okay, Fi?” she asked. “You don’t look so good.”

I clutched my hands together, my fingers wrapping around the empty glass.

Had Erica drugged me?

“What did you put in this?” I slurred.

“Come on, Fi,” she said as I closed my eyes, “Don’t you trust me?”

CHAPTER 20

Sawyer

The roll of tape screeched as I cut off a strip for the print-out sign. Nonprofits didn’t have the extra funds to pay for anactualsign that said they were closed off of the schedule; instead, they relied on printer paper.Library Closed,I had typed. Then, because Fiona would have wanted something more, I added,Be back soon!

The part-timer who was supposed to be on the clock had called in sick. Then I had called the library to have Erica find someone to cover the shift, but no one had answered the phone. And when I tried Erica’s cell, she hadn’t picked up either. I made a mental note to finally get around to looking up her background. I had done that with the other part-timers but hadn’t had Erica’s information when they hired her. And honestly, I never imagined I’d get involved in this dump heap.

In the end, no one picked up their phones. Not even Fiona. I drove myself to the library, shaking my head as I saw that there were no cars in the parking lot.