Horrified by the request, Cara stepped over to a pile of kindling and grabbed the longest stick she could find. She resisted the urge to close her eyes as she used both hands tolift the snake with trembling arms—it was surprisingly heavy—keeping it as far away from her body as she possibly could.
“Where do you want me to put it?”
“Edge of the firepit. I’ll show you how to skin and cook him before I take off.”
“The other white meat,” she managed, trying not to pass out.
Fisk laughed and shook his head. “Deep down, you really aren’t one of them, what do they call them?—”
“Gold diggers?”
“I was going to say Karens.”
No Karen she’d ever known had a bingo card of grievances like hers:Husband Murdered.False Arrest. Life Sentence. Horrifying Van Accident. Harrowing Escape. Near Death Experience. Handling Bloody Rattlesnake Carcasswas practically the free space.
“I can’t believe you know the term Karen.”
Fisk seemed to smile beneath his bushy mustache. “I’ve been watching you and thinking about starting my own YouTube channel to show people how to live off the land.”
“Very funny.” Cara dropped the snake by the firepit. “All I ever wanted or needed in life was security, and look at me now. How could I possibly be any more insecure?”
“It’s just my two cents, but it seems to me you’ve looked to everyone but yourself for that security.”
It was true that she’d been completely dependent on Karl. After his death, she’d briefly trusted the police to find his killer. Then she’d relied wholly on her lawyer. When the system failed her, she’d accepted that her conviction was the final word. Her only chance of clearing her name was solving the crime herself. And there was no possibility of that happening—not here in the backwoods. But if she returned to LA, maybe she could find out what she didn’t know about Karl and his business dealings.The spouse was always the primary suspect, but wasn’t she also always the last to know?
“Are you heading back to civilization?” she asked.
“I suspect our definitions of that are a bit different. But I think I’ll be safer on the streets for the time being than out here.”
As soon as he answered the question, she knew the answer to her own.
“Fisk, take me with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure that if I’m going to get caught, or even die, I have to do it finding my husband’s killer.”
THIRTY-FIVE
JORDAN
U mad, bro?
—#10 on “The 100 Greatest Memes Ever, Ranked,” Thrillist
“Maybe you can find her by going online, Dad,” said Sydney at breakfast. “I mean, a TikToker spotted her last time.”
Jordan pushed back his empty plate and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “If that happens again, I guarantee my phone will blow up.”
Sydney put her elbows on the table and tilted her head. “And everyone else’s will, too. Maybe we can find a clue or something before that happens.”
“It’s a little late for me to learn social media,” he countered. “Plus, I think Steve Jobs should have been buried upside down with a stake through his heart.”
“It certainly couldn’t hurt to try,” said his wife, giving him a look as she stood up to refill her coffee.
Her expression told him he should let Sydney help to keep her mind off Bree. Amber was so good at nonverbalcommunication he sometimes wondered why she used words at all.
“You’re both aware I don’t have any social media accounts,” he said.
