Giant pores,she writes on another.
She writes and sticks until the whole mirror is filled, nearly blocking her reflection altogether, and then she steps back to admire her work. A voice that doesn’t sound like her own laughs meanly in her head.Now you’ll never forget how unworthy you are,it says.
Knowing she needs to return to Meera—too much time has passed, and her friend is no doubt wondering where she’s gone—Talia scans through the collage of cruel messages one last time. That’s when something catches her eye.
“Meera? Could you come here?”
“You okay?” Behind her, the bathroom door creaks open. “Jesus, what’s going on with the Post-It Notes?”
“They’re just ... I was leaving reminders for myself.” Talia quickly plucks them off the mirror and crumples them in her hand, leaving only the Post-It in the bottom right-hand corner of the mirror, the one she doesn’t remember writing. “But I didn’t leave this one.”
“What do you mean?” Meera crosses the room to take a closer look.
“I wrote those other notes, but I didn’t write this one. This is someone else’s handwriting.” Talia peels it off the mirror and hands it to her friend. “Was this here when you were in the bathroom changing earlier?”
“No, it wasn’t.” Silently, Meera reads it, and then in a low voice says, “Oh, God.”
Meera squats down and holds the note in front of Talia’s face so she can read it for herself:Think the police can protect you? Think again.
“She was here.” Talia’s stomach gurgles angrily; she’s going to be sick again. “Amanda came into my house. She left this message for me. She—”
“How is that possible?” Meera asks. “We would have heard her if she broke in, right?”
“Apparently, we don’t know what she’s capable of doing.” Talia snatches the note back. “I need to call the police. I mean, what if she’s still here?”
“We’ll have them come here and search.” Meera’s face swims before her eyes, sliding out of focus, but her voice is steady and reassuring. “And I’m here. She can’t hurt you while I’m here. Okay?”
“Okay,” Talia agrees. “I’ll be right out. Just give me a minute.”
Once Meera returns to the living room, Talia shreds the crumpled collection of notes in her hand, sprinkles them into the toilet, and flushes them away. The police don’t need to see those; Talia doesn’t need them thinking thatshe’scrazy.
Chapter Sixteen
Townsend
Townsend didn’t think Mother would be up for it this year, but he was wrong. His family’s annual Fourth of July party is still happening, his dad’s death be damned. It’s only noon on a Thursday, and already more than one hundred guests are milling around his parents’ Tuscan-style estate on Verano Drive, sipping spicy palomas and snatching hors d’oeuvres from the trays of uniformed servers. Townsend chugs his own cocktail miserably and attempts to ignore the newest addition to Mother’s art collection: an oil portrait of his father, sitting behind his desk and glowering at everyone below him.Either I’m drunk,Townsend thinks,or those fucking eyes are following me.
Usually, he doesn’t mind this yearly fete. Of course, he isn’t usually being stalked by a vindictive ex while internet trolls attempt to take down his company. At least he can feel safe for a bit within the barriers of his parents’ gated community. And he has a win to celebrate, since Sage Clinic agreed to a collaboration with AutoInTune on Monday, just a few days earlier. Sure, he still needs the money to officially launch his enterprise solution (and hopefully boost his pitiful membership), but it’s the start of something promising.
If only the day got off to a better start.
He and Talia had a fight that morning while getting ready for the party. He told her he didn’t understand why she’d gone to the police about Amanda, even after he’d asked her not to. “She’s not a real threat,” he said. “She’s looking for attention. And you’re giving that to her.”
“It was one thing when she was just sending me messages,” Talia replied. “But then she stabbed my tires and somehow snuck into my bathroom while I was home. I consider that a threat.”
Townsend knew she was right, but still, anger coursed through him. “You should have told me about it before going to see those detectives. I am still your boyfriend, right? Not Meera?” He wasn’t trying to control Talia, obviously. It just irked him that someone had more influence over her decisions than he did.
“She was just being a good friend. She didn’t force me to go to the police.”
“Right. And she just happened to be with you when you discovered both your busted tires and the note on your bathroom mirror.”
Talia gave him a strange look. “What are you suggesting?”
“Nothing,” Townsend said, because he really wasn’t sure himself. “Let’s just get through this fucking party.”
Talia nudged his shoulder, always eager to lighten the mood. “That’s the spirit.”
Next to him now, Talia inspects the six-burner Wolf range and double ovens in the kitchen with childlike wonder. “I can’t believe there’s a home theater in here,” she murmurs. “And nine bathrooms.”
