Naomi’s throat stings as she says her name. “Not only did Faye look and sound like Harlow, she had the potential to be even better than her. Plus, you thought she’d be easier to control…”
She pauses to study Sam’s face, watching his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. And then it dawns on her.
Maybe Faye wasn’t the killer. Maybe it was Sam. She thinks then of the matching fentanyl levels on the two autopsy reports.Sam was the only one who could have helped cover up both murders…
She shudders as his black eyes stare back at her. There’s no point in holding back anymore. She needs to see this through.
“You killed her, didn’t you?Youkilled Harlow.”
“You have no fucking idea what you’re taking about, Jesus Christ,” Sam spits out, face flushed. “You need to see someone about these delusions, you really do. First, you sneak into Colton’s funeral and upset his family. Next, you slander and defame both him and Harlow in your article, even after the justice system declared she was innocent—luckily for you, I’ve known Joel for a long time, so I refrained from pressing charges. And now? Now you show up to her home after a psychotic break, thinking she’s your sister. And then you accuse me, the person who has been nice enough to not press chargestwice, of these insane conspiracies? I mean…” He throws his hands in the air, shaking his head as he laughs angrily.
Naomi crosses her arms in a huff, realizing if she’s right, he’ll never confess. It was foolish of her to think he would tell her anything. Panic starts to set in as she realizes what she’s done. That she’s admitted to everything she knows. He’d probably do anything to stop her from seeing Faye, if it is her. From maybe seeing anyone ever again. Her breath quickens, chest tightens. She tries to calm herself, but the thought of possibly being so close to seeing her sister again and not being able to get to her is unbearable.
Her throat is on fire, voice unsteady as she makes one last desperate attempt. “I just want to see Harlow, okay?” She doesn’t want to beg, but she doesn’t know what else to do. “Please, let me talk to her. I won’t say anything to anyone, I swear. I just want to talk with her.”
Sam’s smile has been completely wiped away. And he isn’t laughing anymore. He takes his phone out and sends a text before looking back at her. She senses a flicker of doubt. But it only lasts for a second. His face hardens.
“Naomi.” He rubs his hand over his face. “I’m so sorry to hear about your sister. I know you want to believe she’s alive. But she’s dead. And this isn’t healthy. You need to move on. You need to get help. Do you understand?”
Naomi fully understands that she needs help. Whether she’s right about her sister being Harlow or not, she’s going to need therapy after all this. But she’ll never be able to move on unless she sees for herself. Not until she talks to “Harlow Hayes.”
Sam won’t let that happen, though, she’s sure of it now. She needs to convince him to release her so she can go home and come up with a new plan of attack.
“I’m sorry,” she says, changing tack. “I guess I just don’t want it to be true. Was desperate for her to still be alive.” Tears fill her eyes as she speaks.
Sam sighs, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair and studies her.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I’ve just gotten so carried away. What I said before is ridiculous, you’re right. I have no proof of anything.” She throws her hands in the air in a false display of surrender. “I promise I’ll never write another word about Harlow or Colton. And I’m so sorry for accusing you. I…”
“Just wanted someone to blame?” Sam cuts in. “At least you see that now. I’m really not the bad guy here. I told you, I’m trying to help you. But you can only help yourself. Truly.”
She swallows, trying to steady her breath as her plan starts to work. He hands her a tissue and she dabs her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she says again, standing up. “I’ll get out of your hair and you’ll never hear from or see me again, I promise.”
He stands up quickly and blocks the door, and she wonders if he won’t let her leave. Ever. Her pulse thrashes in her ears, the seconds feeling like hours.
Maybe I am right. And maybe I just made the biggest mistake of my life by telling him.
She takes a step forward toward the small gap in the doorway where only his arm is in the way. Her torso brushes against his forearm, and she presses forward, trying to get him to budge. But his grip remains steady. She looks up at him, blinking her lashes in quick succession. Like prey begging to be released from its captor.
His eyes narrow, and she imagines his heartbeat quickening. A hunter ready to pounce.
“Sam. Please, just let me go home. I promise I won’t say anything,” Naomi says again, as she moves her hand to the doorknob. She wonders what else she has to do. Drop to her knees and beg? No, she won’t give him the satisfaction. So she presses forward with all her weight, turning the knob and pushing at the same time.
She expects to meet more resistance but instead she barrels forward, surprised as he just lets her walk out the door.
Harlow
I sit in my walk-in closet, scrolling through videos on my phone in an attempt to distract myself from what’s happened. I scoff, annoyed by my own hypocrisy. A half hour ago I was downstairs with Sam, claiming to be fierce and unafraid, but now I’m hiding like a coward, while he rallies my security team.
Just look at the damn footage, I think, forcing myself to click the notification.It’ll just be an overeager fan or paparazzi. Nothing that bad.
My heart hammers in my chest as I press play and the grainy figure comes into view. Goosebumps cover my arms, one inch at a time. I gasp, hand flying to my mouth as I register who it is. My phone slips through my fingers and crashes onto the hardwood floor. I try to breathe, but it’s as if someone has punched me in the gut. Because it’s not some crazed fan or stalker at the gates.
It’s you.
*
I stand as still as a statue as I process the moment. A moment I’ve always dreamed about. And dreaded.
