“Steady, girl,” Sierra murmured, squeezing Carter’s arm. “The cops have already screwed this case up. And they don’t trust anything I say. We need hard evidence, or Louis’s never going to be convicted.”
“I still don’t understand why Ranielle covered for him,” Adi said, watching the elevator numbers rise.
“Do not trust the Russells,” Beck whispered, quoting Alicia’s note.
The elevator dinged and they stepped out, creeping down the empty corridor. When they got to the right door, Carter gestured for the others to leave.
“I’ll call for you when his guard is down.”
“Are you sure about this?” Adi said.
Carter looked at Sierra. This was for her. And Alicia. And all the other girls Louis had preyed on—or the girls hewouldprey on, if he wasn’t put away.
“I’m sure.”
Adi must’ve seen the conviction in her eyes, because he gave a short nod and left. Beck threw up two thumbs, walking backward down the hall.
“Thank you,” Sierra whispered. “We won’t be far.”
When she’d disappeared around the corner with the boys, Carter faced the door and rubbed her sweating palms on her jeans. She was so scared she could hardly breathe.
She knocked, but the door nudged open under her knuckles. She hadn’t realized it was already ajar.
There was a moment when she stood there, unsure whether Louis was going to swing it open all the way. When nothing happened, she poked the door with her finger.
“Hello?”
She took a tentative step inside. Ensconced lights illuminated plump white couches, vase-bound peacock feathers, and gilded picture frames. City lights sparkled beyond the windows. The room was so bright. So silent.
And it stank.
She wrinkled her nose. “Louis?” Maybe he was in the bathroom. It sort of smelled like that’s where he was.
The television was on, muted, playing an old episode ofThe Escape Game.
“Louis? I’m here for our interview.”
She tiptoed farther in to find the bathroom door open. Empty.
An open bottle of wine had been taken out of the minibar. The glass was slick with condensation, forming a wet ring on the counter.
Carter stared at the water slipping down the bottle. A dim thought registered in her mind. Something bothered her about this. A partially empty bottle of wine, covered in condensation . . .
The back of her neck prickled, as if someone was watching her. She spun around to find the room as empty as before. On the television, Elijah was doing a post-round interview, his mouth forming unheard words. He looked out of the screen as if staring right at her.
A sickening doom settled in her stomach. The smell was starting to make her ill.
Her instincts thrummed. She needed to get out of here.
Her path to the door took her back past the lounge suite, with a sofa and a coffee table and . . .
A person. On the floor.
Louis Augustus Russell, mouth foamy, eyes wide and unblinking.
Carter screamed. She ran for him and dropped to her knees, shaking his shoulders.
“Can you hear me? Louis!Louis!”
