A few minutes later, I sit on the couch with my two Js on either side of me, in my hand coffee that I am not drinking, but the warmth of the mug somehow eases the iciness of that ball in my chest. Jack ignores his coffee cup as well, where it sits on the coffee table, flipping through channels as we look for various news stories on Akia’s death.
“Which of you found out first?” I ask, the only thing I’ve spoken in fifteen minutes.
“Me,” Jack replies. “Kara’s husband called me. He said she’s very sick, but she was worried about how you and the rest of the staff would handle this today. Which is why I need to run home and shower and get to the library.”
“I’ll be there,” I promise. “I’m okay. I have to be okay.”
“You didn’t wish this on him,” he repeats, and only when he reaches for my mug do I realize I’m trembling.
He sets it on a coaster next to his cup.
“But I benefit from it, right?” I challenge. “I get the auditorium back.”
“Or you turn it down,” he says. “Do what feels right, Mia. As for now, we’ll just focus on helping the staff get through this. In fact, I’m going to let my family know we aren’t attending the wedding.” He eyes Jess. “And I won’t be attending your event. I know that breaks your heart.” He returns his attention to me. “I’m going to volunteer to cover Akia’s spot.”
“I’ll work with you,” I offer quickly, thankful that I won’t be his plus-one at the wedding. This shift in events may well protect him from gaining Adam’s attention. At least for a little while, I add, but not forever. I know this now. I know it in every part of my being. Jack will become a target if I don’t do something to end my connection with Adam.
“I’m going to go now so I can get to the library as early as possible,” Jack states, dragging me out of my head and back into the conversation.
I nod, and he hugs me before exchanging a look with Jess and then standing up. I’m staring at an image of Akia on the television when the door opens and shuts.
“I’ll come stay the night,” Jess offers. “I need to bring you dresses for tomorrow anyway. Or would you rather stay with me? Or I guess you could stay with Adam, right? I forgot you’re seeing him now.”
Just the mention of Adam’s name out loud grinds through me, threatening to thrust me into a cesspool of bad thoughts, destined to lead me to an inappropriately timed meltdown. “The last thing I want is to be with a man I barely know tonight,” I say, and the truth is I would rather stay with her, sheltered in her home, not mine, but I don’t dare. I’m terrified that if I run to her house, hide with her from Adam,I somehow turn her into Adam’s enemy and a target. “I’m probably going to need to be alone tonight. How about just pizza and dresses?”
“Sounds good. You okay if I go home and get ready for work?”
“I’m okay,” I assure her, standing to reinforce the statement.
We hug, and I lock up after her, leaning on the door.
Adam killed Akia. I know this.
I run up the stairs and check my phone. When there’s still nothing from him, I try to call him. The call goes to voicemail.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
The tears, guilt, and helplessness hit me in the shower.
My body quakes, tears mixing with the hot water of the stream from above, a storm erupting with a fierceness that I cannot control. My knees wobble, unable to hold my weight and the burden of the crash happening inside my body. I end up sitting in a corner, whimpering like a baby, losing track of time, space, and even the water that is icy when I finally come back to reality, my new reality.
I am a prisoner to a monster.
There is no escape.
It’s not until I finally calm myself down—or perhaps blow through enough emotion to find that calmness—that I’m able to haul my now-chilled body out of the shower, wrapping myself in a warm towel. I sit on the edge of the bed, and it’s then that I begin to use my brain, not my emotions. It’s then when an idea, an escape passage of sorts, opens in my mind. Mike, my old friend from school, the FBI agent. He’s the answer to every question in my life right now. I have to go to him. But how? How do I go to him without Adam knowing?
There lies the problem, and it’s not a small one, at all. If I reach out to Mike, there will be a price, and that price will be written in blood. I pace and pace some more, trying to formulate a plan that finally comes to me. I text Jack:I am going to be late, but I’ll be there.
No problem, he replies.You okay?
I’m okay, I answer, and I am, I think. Because I know how to get to Mike, and Mike will know how to get to Adam.
An hour later, I’ve inserted the contacts with no problem, refusing to let a finger in the eye be important right now. There are lives on the line. They matter. That is my focus. I’ve also dressed in one of the outfits Adam gave me, ensuring he knows I’m still following his orders, even if I’m not. This one is a cream, fitted knit Valentino dress, complemented with simple black piping across the bust. I once again wear my boots, as I am certain I’ll need to be fast-footed today.
Once I’m ready to walk out the door, I go nowhere. Instead, I get to work on my plan.
I sit at my kitchen island and meticulously put together a file of text messages, links to a Dropbox folder with recordings of calls and everything and anything I can think of that might help Mike catch Adam. Details of Kevin’s murder are the hardest to document, but I don’t hold back. I end with a note:The most important thing I can leave you with, Mike, is this: he seems to know everything I do. He has a digital footprint as well. Be careful. We can’t meet. We can’t talk. He’ll find out. And he might kill us all.
