“Scarlett?”
The blood freezes in my veins as my feet stick to the floor. “Vanessa?”
Rafael whips around.
“Hey. I think we need to talk.”
“Where’s Paige?” I ask, my hand shaking around the phone. Rafael mouths “Speakerphone,” so I tap on the button until her voice blasts in the entrance.
“I just drove her home. I knew you wouldn’t answer if I called from my phone, so I took hers. An alarm gets triggered when the door to my home office is opened.”
Home office? How aboutcreepy stalker lair? “Okay, well, I’m here.”
“Scarlett, I need you to know I’d never hurt anyone. Especially Paige, or you. I love you both, okay?”
I bet the families of the people she killed would disagree with that statement, but I know there’s no point in trying to reason with her. “Okay.”
“I’mnota bad person.”
Rafael’s eyes roll.
“I believe you, Vanessa. But you’re wrong about something. Paigewillbe hurt by this—and I am, too. You lied about… so many things.”
“I know.” She sounds distraught, her voice shaking before there’s the sound of a horn in the background. “But I tried to save the podcast. I knew if you only gave me a chance, we’d be happy together. I can be what you’re looking for, Scarlett. I swear.”
I look up at Rafael, hoping for a suggestion about what to say. All I find, however, is an annoyed tick of his jaw. Is he jealous? Seriously—right now?
“Vanessa, you’re a… great person,” I force out. “But I’m with someone else.”
She sniffles, then sobs. “These guys—none of them deserve you,” she spits out. “Quentin, that idiot, or Rafael. They don’t love you, Scarlett.”
I throw an awkward glance at Rafael, who’s staring down at the phone. I really wish she hadn’t said that—it’s way too early to drop the L-bomb.
“Vanessa, you’re dating my best friend, and she’s in love with you. Nothing can ever happen between us. You understand that, right?”
There’s a moment of silence, and then the sobbing starts quietly, a choked gasp on the other end of the line. But then it breaks free, raw and jagged, each sob heavier than the last. It’s the sobbing of someone who’s losing control, teetering on the edge, and no amount of words can pull her back from it.
I focus on Rafael, and he must have the same thought as I do, because he takes out his phone and mouths, “Where?”
“Where are you, Vanessa?” I ask.
“I love you,” she wails. “I love you so much, and I thought… I don’t get it. I’ve done everything I can. I ruined my whole life for you, and you—” The sobbing starts again, and, heart hammering, I rub my forehead. “You still don’t love me. Why, Scarlett?Why?”
“Tell me where you are. I’ll come to you, and we’ll talk. We’ll fix this, Vanessa.”
Her voice is shrill as she shouts, “There is nothing to fix!It’s over, Scarlett.”
It sounds like the traffic noises in the background are growing louder, closer. Is it because she’s driving? Or is she walking into the street?
“Everything is over,” she says. Does she mean prison? Or…
“Vanessa, please—” The noise on the other end shifts, and I freeze. It’s faint at first but unmistakable: a low, rhythmic clank in the background, like a metal heartbeat echoing through the line. The distinct clattering of the train-crossing bell.
My blood runs cold as I realize where she is.
The train tracks. There’s only one place in town where you canhear that sound so clearly—the old crossing by the river. And the horn I heard earlier? The train must be close. Too close.
I hold a hand over the phone. “The train crossing,” I say. “Go.”
