A soft sound drew my attention—a voice, muffled but distinct, coming through the wall that separated our room from what I presumed was Sarah's bedroom. I tensed, straining to hear. She was speaking, her tone animated, though I couldn't make out specific words. No second voice responded. A phone call, perhaps?
I eased off the bed, careful not to disturb Matt, and moved silently to the wall, pressing my ear against the painted surface.Sarah's voice became clearer—still hushed, but distinct enough that I could catch fragments:
"…don't suspect anything… perfect timing having them here…"
I held my breath, straining to hear more. Sarah's voice dropped lower for a moment, then rose again with what sounded like excitement:
"…everything's going according to plan… The evidence is all in place…"
My blood ran cold. I glanced back at Matt, debating whether to wake him, but decided to gather more information first. I leaned closer to the wall, pressing my ear harder against the surface.
"…he'll be mine soon enough… Once she's completely discredited…"
The pronouns sent a fresh wave of alarm through me. She. Me. He? Who was she referring to? Matt? Someone else?
"…I've waited long enough… Tommy needs a proper father figure…"
I jerked back from the wall as if it had burned me, the implications of Sarah's words crystallizing into a horrifying possibility. I moved quickly to the bed, shaking Matt's shoulder gently but urgently.
His eyes opened immediately. One look at my face, and he was fully alert, sitting up without a sound.
"What is it?" he whispered, reaching automatically for his prosthetic.
"Sarah's on the phone in her room, at least I think she is; she could be talking to herself," I murmured, my lips close to his ear. "She's talking about us not suspecting anything, about evidence being in place. And something about Tommy needing a 'proper father figure.'"
Matt's expression hardened as he processed this information. "You think I'm the target? Beyond framing you?"
"It fits the pattern of erotomanic obsession," I whispered, the profile forming in my mind with sickening clarity. "She eliminates perceived rivals and obstacles to create space for her fantasyrelationship. Collins rejected her advances. I'm an independent woman in your life who could be seen as competition."
Through the wall, Sarah's voice continued, though her words were now indistinct—the one-sided conversation carried on, punctuated by soft laughter that raised goosebumps along my arms.
Matt and I exchanged alarmed glances in the darkness, the full dimension of our danger becoming clear. We weren't just staying in the home of someone who had betrayed us or who was feeding information to whoever framed me.
We were sleeping under the roof of the killer herself, a woman who had already murdered once and seemed to be orchestrating our destruction with methodical precision. And the most disturbing realization of all—she had invited us into her web deliberately, bringing the prey right to the predator's lair.
"We need to get out now," I breathed, reaching for my bag.
Matt nodded grimly, already moving with silent efficiency. "And we need to find a way to protect Tommy, too."
As we gathered our few belongings in the darkness, Sarah's voice continued its one-sided conversation beyond the wall, her pleased, confident tone more chilling than any threat could have been.
Chapter 28
THEN:
Ann's fingers fumbled with her apron strings as she hurried through the employee entrance of Granger's, her eyes darting to each shadowed corner of the hallway before she fully committed to stepping inside. She'd parked her car directly beneath a light pole today, had checked the back seat twice before getting in, and had taken three different routes on her drive to ensure no one followed her. The precautions exhausted her, but the alternative—letting down her guard even for a moment—was unthinkable after what she'd witnessed outside her apartment window at 2:00 a.m.
"Ann?" Tom's voice made her jump as he emerged from his office. "Jesus, you look like hell."
She forced her lips into what she hoped resembled a smile. "Just didn't sleep well."
Tom frowned, taking in the dark half-moons beneath her eyes, the pallor of her skin. "You know, if you need another day off?—"
"I'm fine," she cut him off, the words automatic by now. "Really."
He didn't look convinced but nodded anyway, retreating into his office as Ann continued toward the break room. Her gaze swept across the restaurant through the kitchen pass-through—scanning tables, doorways, and windows. No sign of Marcus. Not yet.
She spotted Miriam by the service station, arranging silverware into rolled napkins with quick, efficient movements. Relief flooded through her—a friendly face, someone who'd at least begun to believe her. Ann approached swiftly, glancing over her shoulder before touching Miriam's elbow.
