Daddy always knows when I’m about to cross a line.
The first whisper slides into my skull like a needle finding nerve.
Careful.
“Not now, Shadow Daddy,” I mutter, rubbing my temples.
I like speaking to him by way of Ouija board better because it hurts less, but I don’t have time now.
The house convulses.Every outlet sparks—blue-white flashes that illuminate the room in strobing bursts.The windows rattle in their frames.The floorboards groan.Ice crystals spider across the glass, spreading like fractures in bone.
Ignoring all of it, I drop my gaze back to the photos.Vincent’s face smiles up at me from a dozen frozen moments of betrayal.This is my latest round of ammunition, after the rounds of flaming dog shit on his porch.
When I still lived in Kansas City, I hired a private investigator to follow him around Wichita, knowing exactly the kinds of things he’d find out about Vincent before he found them.
The envelope sits ready beside the pictures, plain manila, addressed in careful block letters toEvelyn Harrow.Not to their house—Vincent may intercept it there.But to the Hallmark store in the mall, where his wife works part-time Tuesday through Saturday, selling greeting cards and porcelain angels to people who still believe in happy endings.
When I first got to Wichita, between my outings to the dog park for fresh shit and my shifts at Gas N’ Go, I did my research.I followed her for three days until I knew her patterns, like that she parks in the same spot, takes a lunch break at noon, and orders the same salad from the food court, although when she’s feeling reckless, she’ll go to Chick-fil-A.
I became her stalker, just as James had become mine.
Did that mean that she and I would eventually murder someone and then fuck in their blood?
My guess is probably not.
Each time-stamped photo goes into the envelope, and I seal the flap and press my thumb into the glue.
Your perfect world is about to crack, Evelyn.
It’s hard to know how I feel about her without knowing her.Maybe she genuinely has no idea what kind of man she’s married to, but if the man I’d pledged my life to had been accused of rape and the case had gone all the way to court, I would have questions and doubts, no matter the verdict.Lots of them.
Do I feel sorry for her?That’s a loaded question.Maybe a little, but not sorry enough to stop what I’m about to do.
The whisper returns, low and furious, vibrating up through the floorboards.Don’t.
Daddy knows that every act of vengeance within my plan makes me a target, but that’s the point.I want Vincent to know it’s me who’s dismantling his life before his very eyes.
Out of all the things I want to do to him, this is nothing.This is nothing compared to what he did to me.
“Fine,” I say to the darkness where Daddy watches from the walls.“I won’t deliver it today.”
I’m totally delivering it today.
James’s van idles at the curb when I step outside, the envelope tucked into my bag.He leans against the driver’s side door, arms crossed, that familiar wolf-smile playing on his lips.
“Good day, Prayer?”
When I reach him, I press my lips to his.“Now it is.Care to tail me to the mall first before you tail me to work?”
I whisper the last part so my shadow daddy doesn’t hear and try to leave the house again to stop me.
James scoffs even as his gaze dips to my mouth and up again with an intensity that heats the fall chill.“Ye ken I’ll tail ye anywhere.What’s at the mall?”
“Hallmark.”
His brow furrows over his manic, bright-blue eyes.“As in sappy greeting cards and reeking cinnamon candles everywhere?”
“Yep, that’s the place.”
