How could she tellhim? How could she let him down?
“What do you mean?”
Ana looked back at him, his soft eyes, his kind face, worry written across it. The words were on her tongue. She could say it. Say the words. Just be done with it. Once and for all.
But even as she thought it, she knew she couldn’t. Not now. If he knew what she’d done, she would lose Alex forever, just like she’d lost Danny. If he knew the truth, he would despise her. He would walk away and never look back. With everything they were facing, she just couldn’t take that. Not yet.
“I just mean…it’ll be okay. I promise.”
She dropped her eyes. She had failed him. A coward, once again. He deserved so much better. It was time to shut this down, to stop playing with dangerous feelings like hope and love. Those weren’t for her.
“We should go,” she said abruptly, jumping to her feet. “Time’s running out and that shelter won’t build itself.”
Alex nodded. He looked confused and hurt by her sudden coldness. But it was for his own good. It was better this way.
He stood up and walked over to the bed, scooping up the pile of bedding.
“Okay, sure. Are you coming?”
“You go. I’ll be right behind,” Ana said, turning away from him. She needed a moment. A reset.
“I guess I’ll see you by the shelter.”
Ana closed her eyes and waited until his footsteps had faded. She could still feel him in her mind, in her arms, his warmth through his T-shirt. It hurt; the feelings cut into her. It was never worth letting her guard down. Never. Every time she opened up to someone, life would turn it around and shred her, like a punishment for her weakness. No. This wasn’t her path. Her path was alone.
But not for her friends. They had a chance for happiness, if they could just escape the motel.
It was time to remember her promise. She had one job here—to keep her friends alive. Nothing more.
***
The water ran cold over Ana’s scarred fingers. She caught it in her cupped hands and splashed it over her face and neck. It felt good in this heat.
Ana stood at the beige bathroom vanity, stained and crusted after decades of motel service. Her chat with Alex had kicked off some things she didn’t want in her head.
Triggerswas the word Mr. Dankman had used.
Watch out for triggers. Let the bad thoughts into your head, then let them drift away. Give them permission to be released.
The seventies strip light gave her reflection a bluish tinge—amorbid thought flashed through her mind. Was this what she’d look like when she was dead? She quickly gave herself permission to releasethatthought.
Instinctively she glanced at the corner of the room, searching for the soapy microphone.
But what she saw stopped her cold.
Her breath caught, held tight as she blinked, trying to make sense of it. Something told her not to react. She made herself reach for the faucet and go through the motions of washing her hands again, moving on autopilot as her brain raced, finally allowing her eyes to turn upward and study the corner carefully.
There it was. The tiny black dot listening to her. The bug was back. It looked like the soap had been carefully wiped away and the device had been polished clean. Which meant that someone had been in here, climbed up, and fixed it—someone had stood in her bathroom, in her motel room.
If she was right, then Bates was inside the circle.
If she was right…they were not alone.
19
Caden
23:51
