Page 52

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Blake is now deep in conversation with Quillizabeth.

Right after I put the cookies on a plate, I sprinkled some flour on my shirt to give myself an excuse to leave the room so Blake could be alone with Quillizabeth. When I return to the living room, his eyes are bulging out, and he seems like he’s counting the seconds before he can get her out of our house.

I sweep into the room to pretend to introduce myself to the woman that I met yesterday. Despite her reluctance to be deceptive, Quillizabeth does an excellent job pretending we just met. She holds out her hand to me, and I shake it.

And then, as our hands make contact, she jerks away. Her eyes go wide as she takes a step back.

“I…” The older woman’s voice is hoarse. “I actually have to go. This place…it’s too small. I won’t be renting it after all.”

Blake looks so relieved, it’s almost hilarious. “Okay, it was nice meeting you,” he says a bit too brightly.

I feign concern. “Is everything okay?”

Quillizabeth shifts her gaze to look at Blake. If I didn’t know this was all an act, I’d say she was absolutely terrified. She then turns to me and says in an urgent voice, “Could I…speak to you outside, Krista dear?”

Outside? I don’t think so. I want Blake to hear every part of this performance. “What is it?” I press her.

Quillizabeth takes another step back. “Outside. Please .”

“Look…Quillizabeth.” Blake sounds utterly exasperated. “We have another prospective tenant coming soon, so…”

“He’s going to kill you,” she blurts out. “Blake is going to kill you, Krista. You have to get away from here.”

Oh my God. This woman deserves an Emmy. She really missed her calling.

“He’s going to stab you with a kitchen knife.” Quillizabeth points to the floor beneath our feet. “It’s going to happen right here .”

Blake looks a bit panicked. At the very least, he wants her out of here. He places a hand on her back, and she leaps away from him like he just scalded her.

“Please believe me, Krista.” Quillizabeth is reaching out for me now with a gnarled hand. “Be careful. My visions…they are never wrong.”

I’m the one who finally has to walk Quillizabeth outside, because she insists that she has to talk to me. That’s fine. I want to give her a tip anyway. She was amazing. Amanda will be showing up soon, and the contrast will be stunning. She’ll be moved in by the end of the week.

But when we get outside, Quillizabeth clings to my arm and doesn’t want to leave. “You must listen to me, Krista. That man—Blake—he’s dangerous.”

“Blake?” I laugh, pulling a few bills out of my wallet. “No, I don’t think so. And he can’t hear you anymore, so we can stop the performance. You were great though.”

“Performance!” she bursts out. “That was not a performance. I saw it. I saw him crouched over your dead body. I saw the blood all over the floor.”

Despite how grateful I am to her, I’m starting to get annoyed. “Blake is not going to kill me. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“I saw it!” she insists. “I…I haven’t had a psychic vision that strong in years. But it was clear as day.” She reaches out to grip my wrist, her fingers biting into my skin. “He’s going to kill you, Krista. You need to get out. Now .”

I get a chill down my spine. I don’t believe in any of this crap, but there is something about the certainty in the old woman’s face that is creeping me out. She genuinely thinks that Blake is going to kill me. She thinks he’s going to stab me to death in my own living room.

Which is ridiculous.

I manage to wrench my hand away from her. “Okay, enough .”

“Krista…”

“No,” I say firmly. “I’m fine. Whatever this is… You don’t have to worry about me. I promise.”

Quillizabeth is very reluctant to leave, and for a moment, I’m worried I’ll have to call the police. But then she gives me one last fearful look, and she ambles down the street. I stand there, watching her, making sure she doesn’t linger on our block. Or, God forbid, try to come back.

I always thought that psychic stuff was bullshit, but it seems like Quillizabeth might really have the gift. Because something terrible is going to happen in that house. Except it won’t be Blake standing over my dead body.

It will be me, standing over him.