Clearly, this was either another paparazzo, a thief or a hit man from the Tempeste family. Without having a clear look at what he carried, it was hard to say. A camera? A knife? A gun?
My cell phone rang again. It had been ringing off and on. I didn’t want to answer it, as I didn’t want the man to hear me and come looking.
Better to wait for the police, if and when they arrived.
Thank goodness Chiara was with Tennyson.
How was I going to survive without her? The future stretched before me, so bleak and empty. Just seeing her face over video chat earlier in the day . . . talking with her about the black pages and listening to her quick insights, the sparkle of her that I missed so desperately . . .
A shudder ran through my phantom body.
The fleeting, digital contact brutally highlighted that I didn’t have all of her. I didn’t want this half-relationship. A virtual one.
Yet . . . my logic was sound. We were at an impasse, she and I. But that didn’t stop the situation from cutting like a thousand sharp blades.
I watched the man creep across the gravel beside the house. I used voice commands to switch the monitors as he moved around toward the rear door. The man paused every now and again, surveying his surroundings. Rain continued to fall, a light drizzle that made the night vision screens that much fuzzier.
Nothing the man did could harm me. I was planning on simply going into a wall and staying out of his way. Though the thought of him damaging my house or stealing things irked me. I had worked hard for this, blast it all.
Headlights pulled into the driveway.
The police had arrived.
The man reacted, whirling toward the sound before darting behind a hedge and out of view of my cameras.
Instead of pulling around to the front, the car kept going around the house, clearly intent on the resident parking in the back. Why were the police doing that? Did they know the man was back there, too?
As the car passed the front of the house, I got a clear side view.
Tennyson’s Jeep. Not the police.
Chiara’s tiny body in the driver’s seat, the steering wheel practically in her chest.
Fortunately, I had no blood in my veins, but if I had, it would have turned to ice in that moment.
Chiara
I swiped my tears away as I barreled toward Jack’s villa.
The vision wouldn’t leave me. Was my vision the future? The past? I had no way of knowing. I had to hear Jack, see him. Anything to make sure he was okay.
I had called over and over but Jack didn’t pick up.
Something had to have happened. Jack wasalwaysaround.
Finally, I decided to just drive over.
Please let him be okay, I pleaded.I’ll promise anything. Just don’t let him bedeaddead.
His villa was dark, a single light shining from what I knew was the kitchen. That didn’t necessarily mean anything. I pulled around the back of the house, killing the car lights.
I sat in the silent dark Jeep, staring at the house. Nothing moved.
Now what?
Was I overreacting? Jack was probably fine.
But . . . the house wassodark. Why would Jack want the house to be dark?
