EPILOGUE
Elle
My phone rings, interrupting the crazy tense moment with the note and Noah’s reaction. It’s Amy.
“Hey,” I say. “We’ve got a problem that I need to—” I glance at Noah. He’s still fixated on the note. His eyes doing that back-and-forth thing that people do when they can’t believe what they are seeing.
Pink paper.
X. O.
Is that from a woman?
“Fucking, eh, right we’ve got a problem!” she says.
“Did you get a note too?” I ask, lowering my voice so the kids can’t hear.
“Huh?” She sounds genuinely confused. “What note?”
I hold up a finger to the kids and Noah, none of whom are even paying attention to me, and walk into the other room. “We got a note,” I hiss. “Stuck on Doug’s grave. It mentions the shirt I was wearing and basically says we aren’t getting away with shit.”
“Oh, dear,” she sighs. Not quite the reaction I was expecting.
“ Oh. Dear ?” I parrot, incredulous.
“I may have complicated things just a bit,” she says, sounding furtive and unsure. Guilty, even.
“What did you do?”
“Let’s just say, Doug may have some company soon.”
My stomach lurches. The room tilts, and I press my hand to the wall.
One body was an accident.
Two is a pattern.
And patterns get caught.
Coming this winter - the second installment in Elle and Noah’s story. And, find out what the hell is going on with Amy.