She nods. “What is it, Mrs. Ashford?”
“This might sound crazy. But how long have you worked for Irvin?”
“I’ve been working for Irvin since he was a toddler.”
“How long have you been cleaning this mansion? Did you clean it before we moved in?”
She sets the broom against the dark wall and eyes me cautiously. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Again, I don’t want to sound strange. But do things go bump in the night here? Like, have you experienced any weird shit?”
She giggles. “Like a haunting?”
I nod.
She clutches her rosary tight. “Good Lord, no. I wouldn’t be working here if those things existed.”
I laugh. I feel stupid for thinking such a ridiculous thought.
“I have another question.”
“Of course, Lilac.”
“Did you change the fire log in the fireplace in the living room?”
She smooths out her maid outfit, then frowns. “No. We don’t touch a room if it’s occupied.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t replace the burning log with a fresh one?”
She shakes her head. “No. We have strict orders from Irvin to leave rooms alone when they’re occupied. I saw you sleeping on the couch.”
“You didn’t move any items around on the entertainment center?”
She shakes her head. “No, ma’am. You seemed like you had too much to drink, sweetheart. The chef’s going to make you something to help with your hangover.”
Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, and I don’t know what to think or do. Iknowthat locket was here.
I rush to the living room, grab my phone from the coffee table, and look into the call log—I called Ambrose. His number is still here. I study the maid, and she doesn’t seem like she’d lie about something so trivial. It doesn’t sound right.
Someone is messing with me.
Am I losing my mind? But why would my mind feel the need to make up this shit?
I sob uncontrollably. I feel as if I’m losing it—as if I’m losing my common sense. There’s no way I made this up.
I head to the bathroom, strip off my clothes, and stand under the hot shower, staring into space. My mind is playing tricks on me, but why would I conjure such a hallucination? I’ve suffered from them before.
I don’t miss Emerson. If he were alive, I wouldn’t want him around. This isn’t making logical sense.
I use soap to wash my body, hoping to wash away my thoughts. Tears continue to leak from my eyes as I get out of the shower and pat myself dry. I throw on a clean long-sleeve shirt and a pair of leggings.
I look out the window, and the sky is clear, as if the weather wasn’t brewing last night. I decide I’m going to let it go, because I can’t go to Irvin or any of my friends with this.
Because if a serial killer isn’t after me, then I’d expose my lies—and lose everything.
Irvin
Iwake up in a chamber. The last thing I remember is being told to wait at the front steps of Tartarus, and the next thing I know, a syringe was stuck in me. I rub my head as I glance around the clean room I’m in. There is a live feed on the wall of Lilac tied to a chair. What the fuck? These fuckers actually used my wife as bait. I grit my teeth. I’m going to kill Snow when I get my hands on the fucker.
