There’s hardly any crime in Willowbrook. A town with only five thousand people, where we all know one another, isn’t supposed to have murders. This will affect the community—the sense of safety that’s always been so strong here, the way neighbors leave their doors unlocked and let their kids play outside until dusk.
I drive all the way to the office, hardly aware of what’s around me until I pull into the parking lot and turn off the engine.
After fetching my bag, I enter the building and check my messages, unable to help the slight disappointment that settles in my chest when I notice it’snotEthan.
Paige
Free tonight? We could use an extra at the Single Mingle event.
“Liar,” I mumble as I wave at the receptionist, then rush into the elevator just before the door closes.
Scarlett
That so? And it’s not a ploy to get me to celebrate my birthday?
Paige
Omg, that’s true! Happy birthday!
“The worst liar in the world,” I say at my phone. She does this all the time—drags me to one of her parties with the promise of work,then insists I have fun instead. It reminds me of why she’s one of only three friends I have: friends are a lot of work.
Scarlett
Fine. Send me the address. Since it’s not a birthday party, I’ll show up in sweats.
Paige
Sounds great. See you tonight.
Liar.
I walk up the stairs and enter Booked It headquarters, where the air hums with energy and the faint scent of coffee lingers. The host ofSpace & Storycraft, Sarah, waves at me from behind her desk, cluttered with sci-fi books and a half-empty coffee cup, and in the recording studio, the soft glow of monitors peeks through the open door. Damien, host ofWizards & Words, looks up, and as my gaze narrows to the farthest corner of the room, I notice my favorite sound engineer—and the only one I know—Theo.
I move on to Celeste’s office, the last door on the right.
“Celeste?” I ask as I knock on the half-open door.
“Yes?” I open the door to see Celeste’s sleek dark hair, cut in a sharp bob, as she bends over her computer. “Scarlett! Come in, come in.”
I enter the cozy, cluttered room, with shelves crammed full of books and folders stacked haphazardly on every available surface. “Sorry I’m late, it’s been a crazy—”
“Wow, you look terrible.”
“Thanks,” I say flatly. She’s always impeccably dressed, today ina tailored charcoal suit. I don’t know how she does it—not with a husband and two kids—but she always finds time for makeup, too. If you showed anyone in town a picture of thin black-rimmed glasses and bold red lipstick, they’d say it was Celeste. “Didn’t sleep much.”
She hums. “Someone interesting keeping you up at night?”
“Four men, actually.” I take outThe Midnight Gentlemenfrom my bag. “Murderous but distinguished.”
She laughs, turning slightly in her chair. “Don’t worry. Love will come when it’s time. And then you’ll wish it had taken longer to find you.”
I’mnotworried, but I’m tired of pointing it out. “Everything good at home?”
“Oh, absolutely. Steve is my rock.” She turns to the floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the town center, then to the bookcase, locating the mug she’s abandoned on a top shelf. “Last night’s episode was your best yet.The Thornwood Butcher. Couldn’t agree more with your review—we need more voices like Slate.”
“Best book I’ve read in a while,” I offer, fidgeting with my hands. “So, hmm… you wanted to see me?”
“Yes, right,” she says as she focuses her attention on me. I’ve known her my whole life, but under her scrutiny, even my hands turn clammy. “Twenty-three, huh? Can I say happy birthday?”
