But that can’t be.
Then how do I explain the locket?
I place the gun back into the nightstand, lock every window in the mansion, and dash to the front door. One of the security guards leans against the cobblestone wall.
“Did you see anyone on the property?” I demand.
He shakes his head. “No, Mrs. Ashford.”
My heart thumps hard. I don’t believe him.
“Are you sure?”
Nodding, he eyes me warily. “You’re not allowed to have visitors.”
I yank the ends of my hair. “Can you check the camera, please?”
Sighing, he grabs his phone and shows me the footage of the front entrance and the backyard.
This isn’t adding up. Someone is on this property. They have to be.
“Check the footage from my window?”
He cocks his eyebrow.
I dig my nails into my palms until it aches. “I’m sure Irvin placed cameras by the windows.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine.”
I scan the footage, but there isn’t any sign of anyone breaking in.
This is strange. So strange.
I want to mention the locket to the guard, but he’ll tell Irvin. I don’t want him to find out about my past.
I slam the door, rush back to the living room, wrap my colorful blanket around me, and lie on the couch. My breath is shallow, and my pulse races. I toss and turn as I clutch the locket in my shaky hand.
I scan the expensive paintings on the walls and the entertainment center to see if anything is out of place.
What about the balcony door? Did I check that?
I rush to the glass doors and peek outside. I open the door, step onto the wooden floor, and lean against the rail. A guy in a hoodie perches next to an oak tree.
I blink hard. My heart feels as if it’s about to explode. I fumble with my phone, turn on the flashlight, and aim it at the figure—but no one is there. Sighing in relief, I rush back in and lock the doors.
Should I tell Irvin?
No, I shouldn’t. Because Emerson is not here.
Someone is playing mind tricks on me.
They know who I am.
I know it’s not Irvin. He might be mean, but he’s not cruel enough to do that to me—to use my past against me—and he doesn’t know I have a secret identity.
What about the serial killer on campus? They haven’t caught the killer, as far as I know. I could be their next target. Maybe the killer is finding dirt on everyone and using it to kill them.
I check the locks again, then purposely move things out of place to see if someone will move them back.
