Page 33

CHAPTER 33

Birdie

Cold wind lashes at my skin as I step into the garden. My arms circle around me reflexively, but I have enough fire underneath to burn the world down. I focus on the distant sound of the waves and hum with them before I go crazy. Everything Blake has done to me was in the name of his brand of love—possessive, obsessive, violent and toxic, but reserved only for me. At least, that’s what I thought, what I led myself to believe to justify the pain.

Have I been that blind? Has it always been the money he’s after and nothing else? If that is so, why Gia? Why not someone wealthier? Why not another young, blonde, with mommy and daddy issues, that is to break?

Tristan opens the French doors that lead to the garden and marches toward me, his strides wide and angry. “Birdie, we need to talk. There’s something you need to see.”

I cross my arms over my chest and gaze at the darkening sky as it connects with the sea. “I understand you’re a man of honor, wired to protect, and I’m sorry to have dragged you into my morally grey world, but there’s nothing you can say that’s going to change my mind and call the police. If you want to call them yourself, I can’t stop you, but know that I’ll burn all evidence Butterfly Man existed. As for Gia, she texted later today from a new number.” One I’m buying. “She was a little under the weather and slept in. By the time she woke up she realized she’d misplaced her phone and couldn’t reach me or get my messages. She deeply apologized for the inconvenience, and I told her to take all the time she needed to feel better before she came back to work.”

“Birdie, that’s—”

“I’m not risking anything for those two, not after the things Detective Torrance said. Butterfly Man might have returned the book, but he’s purposely leaving breadcrumbs in his scenes that can lead to me. I’m not stupid. I know what he’s planning. If he doesn’t win me with the murders, he plans to use them as leverage. Either I become his or he’ll frame me for them. I can’t let that happen.”

He invades my space, and the folder in his hands comes into sight. “That’s why you need to look at this, but first do you have the stalker’s older notes?”

“Blake has them in his office. Why?”

“We need to compare them with these.” He takes out Butterfly Man’s carefully bagged notes and the latest envelope and places them next to each other on one of the benches. “Look at the drawings.” His voice drops an octave. “Look at the wings.”

The second my stare zeroes in on the butterflies, Tristan’s earlier words echo in my head. See how the wings have a rich brown color with white spots along the edges? “They all look like the one we saw at the lighthouse. They’re all queens.”

“If the old notes have the same drawings, it means it’s intentional.”

“I can’t remember the exact species the butterflies are in those, but I remember one detail. Unlike in the recent ominous notes, they were all blue.”

“Why blue?”

“Everybody thinks that’s my favorite color, even Husband Dearest. I thought maybe as a fan, he thought so as well.” I shrug, examining the illustrations before me again. “The old notes don’t matter, though. We don’t need them for confirmation. He drew the exact same butterfly four times. One is nothing, two is a coincidence, three is a pattern, but four...”

“Four is a message.”

My heart skips a beat because I know exactly what the message is.

“It’s a symbol of your name.” Tristan locks his gaze with mine, swallowing, and I realize he, too, gets the clue. “Your real name. The stalker knows who you really are…Reagan.”