Harmony swallowed, but she opened the note. She looked over to Cass and shook her head.
“What does it say?” Cass demanded.
“It says,Are you having fun yet?”
“We’re not safe,” Cass breathed, true terror in her eyes.
“I think we’re safe because they don’t want this game to end. When we stop hearing from them, that’s when we should truly be afraid.”
Cass’s eyes widened. She wasn’t sure who she should be afraid of anymore. She just knew that she wasn’t going to stick around for long enough to find out. This vacation was long past over.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Debt Collected
Mary sat in her armchair with a half-empty glass of wine and stared at the framed photograph on the table beside her. Her daughter’s smile—the one that used to light up an entire room—was frozen in time. Mary reached out, brushing her thumb over the glass.
“I miss you,” she whispered. “I still catch myself waiting for you to walk through that door.”
The air shifted, soft and cool, like a sigh that didn’t belong.
“I’m here, Mom.”
Mary stilled. “Not tonight, baby. I have a debt to collect.”
“We talk every night.”
Her throat constricted. “You don’t usually answer me.”
“I always answer. You just don’t always hear what I’m saying.”
Mary closed her eyes, pressing her fingers against her temples. “You’re gone, baby. I buried you. I watched the dirt fall.”
“You’re the one who keeps calling me back.”
A tear slid down her cheek before she could stop it. “Because I can’t stand the silence. I can’t stand what they did to you.”
“Then do something about it.”
Mary’s breath hitched. “You think I haven’t thought about that? Every damn day I think about it. Every time I close my eyes, I see your face, and the way they left you.”
“Do something.”
Mary shot to her feet, knocking the wine glass to the floor. Red spread across the rug like blood in water. She didn’t flinch at the mess.
“What?” she choked. “What should I do?”
“You need to help me. I need to rest. I can’t rest until you help. You know where they are. Do something.”
Mary pressed her palms to her ears, shaking her head. “I can’t,” she breathed.
“You can. Look at the dresser.”
A folded scrap of paper lay there where there hadn’t been one before.
She picked it up with trembling fingers.
Three words, cut from a magazine, same jagged style as the photo Hale had shown her earlier.
