When I returned everything to the envelope, I spotted a small slip of paper stuck in the bottom of it. It was a handwritten note, but the writing wasn’t Vero’s. It was crisp and clear, every letter written with deliberate and obvious care.
It’s wrong to keep things that don’t belong to you. You’re greedy and selfish, and you can’t hide in Virginia forever. Someday you’ll have to give back what you’ve taken from me.
Presumably, this note had been written before Vero’s arrest. It was probably one of the messages that had been sent to Ramón’s garage. He’d started finding them in his mailbox a few months ago, all addressed to Vero. Vero had suspected they were from someone who knew who she was and what she’d been running from. Moving in with me had thrown her stalker off her scent—no letters ormessages had come to my house in the entire five months she’d been living under my roof—but being under house arrest in her childhood home would have made her much easier to find. The person who wrote this was probably the same person who had egged and spray-painted her mother’s house.
I took a photo of the message and folded it back into the envelope. Only fifteen minutes had passed, and there was no sign of Vero or Javi. I sat down at her desk and read through my emails on my phone, my legs crossed against the growing need to pee.
My phone buzzed with a new notification. A text message from Sylvia Barr, my literary agent.
Sylvia:Call me when you get this.
I debated whether to ignore her. She had been hounding me for three weeks about a book she wanted me to write with my neighbor, Mrs. Haggerty. But Mrs. Haggerty was serving time in a detention center, and the book she planned to write was a scandalous exposé about all of her neighbors and their drama, including mine. I’d told Sylvia several times that I wanted no part of it. Maybe I was a fool for saying no to the money, but it felt too risky to monetize any more stories that mirrored my own life of crime, and I really didn’t feel like discussing it with her again.
My phone buzzed.
Sylvia:I can see the read receipt, Finlay. I know you got my message. This is very important.
I thunked my head against the desk and dialed her number.
Sylvia picked up without bothering to say hello. Her thick New Jersey accent was unusually grating, suggesting she was either veryexcited or very pissed off. “What’s this I’m hearing about your accountant being arrested for stealing?”
My head jerked up. I hadnotbeen ready for this. Sylvia’s office was in Manhattan. She lived a full five hours by car from Virginia. The only person who could have told her about Vero was Mrs. Haggerty, but she’d been locked up for nearly a month, and I wasn’t even sure how much she knew. “Where did you hear that?”
“It’s all over your social media.”
“I don’t have any social media.”
“You do now.” Her acrylic nails tapped loudly against her phone, and I could picture her switching it from one ear to the other. “I had my assistant, Jared, build you a Facebook page. He posts daily updates pretending to be you. But don’t worry, he drafts the copy using AI, and I only let him post your photos after he’s applied at least three filters. You look great, by the way. I need a few more pics of you, so send me some good ones. But wear something nice and hold the camera high. Otherwise, you look like you have a double chin.”
“Sylvia, I don’t have—”
“You do, but so do we all. Be careful of the angle and no one will know. So, what’s all this drama with your accountant?” she barreled on.
“There is no drama. And Vero’s life isn’t anybody’s business.”
“Actually, Finlay, it’s everybody’s business. Some woman named Stacey posted a comment under one of your posts. She claims to be one of your neighbors. She says she knows firsthand that your accountant was arrested for stealing money from some college sorority.”
I gritted my teeth. Stacey was, in fact, one of my neighbors. She sat on the HOA and the PTA, and she was Vero’s most recent supplier for edible brownies and adult toys. She was also a horrible gossip. “Vero didn’t steal any money. She was falsely accused.”
“That’s not what all the other neighbors said. Stacey tagged a bunch of them, and they all jumped into the thread. One of them said your accountant was wanted for grand theft auto but the cops in Virginia didn’t have enough evidence so they had to let her go. Another said she heard Vero was living with you under an assumed identity and was using your home to hide from the police in another state. But Stacey said that can’t be right because she knows for a fact that your hot cop boyfriend has been living with you and he would have known. Is it true?”
“No!” I said, flustered. “Except that last part.”
“What about the rumor that you two are getting engaged?”
“What? Who said that?” I shook my head. “Why am I even discussing this with you? My relationship with Nick is no one’s business either!”
“You might want to reconsider that, actually. Your fans really love him. You picked up five thousand new followers in the last two days. Stacey started aboxers or briefspoll about him. It’s getting really strong engagement. Your neighbors even started a hashtag…hotcopcrotchwatch. If we keep this up, you could go viral.”
“I don’t want to go viral! None of the stuff they’re saying is even true!”
“You’re a celebrity now, Finlay. No one cares what’s true. Your readers only care about how you look, and right now, you look like a suspense writer in cahoots with a criminal while you’re sleeping with a cop. It’s a good thing he’s sexy or you’d really be in trouble. Look,” she said at my irritated sigh, “I know I say all publicity is good publicity, but we have to be careful with this felony business. Your fans can turn on you in a minute. Everyone loves a good Robin Hood story, but Vero is no Luigi Mangione. It would be one thing if she’d ripped off Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk, but she can’t go around stealing money from college kids. Sorority girls are like Girl Scouts to perverts and the general public. Stealing their Thin Mintsisn’t a good look on anyone. Promise me you’ll get this under control before I have to go all Justin Baldoni and hire a fancy PR firm to fix it. I’m not above smearing a few of your competitors to take the focus off you, but I’d rather not spend that kind of money if we can avoid it. Capisce?”
I felt a headache coming on. “I’m handling it, Syl.”
“Good. Tell your hot cop I voted for the briefs. We both have a lot riding on this. Don’t let me down.”
I dropped the call without saying goodbye. Since she hadn’t said hello, I figured she couldn’t hold it against me.
