PROLOGUE
She’s crying again, but the body is gone.
It was a clean strike, barely any blood. What’s there to cry about? I want to slap her. We should be popping champagne. Americans have such a childish view of death. Our culture is full of it. We watch it in movies, we play it in video games, we read it in books. Every day, it entertains us.
And yet whenever we see actual death, we wail and moan like it’s the most profound tragedy. As if life couldn’t possibly go on.
But lifealwaysgoes on.
I can’t say this because she’ll think I’m a monster. I try to touch her, but she jumps away. She’s scared of me. That’s too bad, but not unexpected. I have work to do before I can win her over.
But here’s the truth: in my experience, death isn’t always a tragedy. Sometimes it’s a portal into a new life. Sometimes it gives freedom.
Truly, sometimes death is the most glorious miracle.
You’ll see.
PART 1
CHAPTER ONE
BRIE
“Ma’am.”
The security guard taps my window with her nightstick.
“One second,” I say, pretending to search for my keys. I’ve been staring at the sign at the corner of the parking lot for nearly four hours.
120 MINUTES MAX. CUSTOMERS ONLY.
$500 FINE.
“Ma’am!” She taps a little harder this time. I want to feel outraged, but honestly, the fine is more than my entire net worth, including this rusted Mazda. She can tap all she wants if it means I can stay. “The mall is closed.”
She’s pretending I’m a customer who mistimed her visit, and I appreciate it even though the truth is painfully obvious to anyone who sees the boxes piled in my back seat.
I have nowhere else to go.
I roll down the window. “Five minutes. Please. I’m waiting on a phone call.”
“Wait somewhere else.”
“It’s about a job.”
“Come on, lady.” She’s already dropped the ma’am. There’s a flicker of exhaustion in her eyes. If I make her angry, this could go badly. She might even call the police. And if she calls the police, I’ll have to call Neil for help, and this will all be over. “I’m just doingmyjob, OK?”
“Please. This could change my life.”
Suddenly, the phone rings. The guard raises a single eyebrow, clearly surprised that I’m actually telling the truth. I suppose everyone must lie to her face. Bullshit and boredom—that’s the life of a security guard.
“Five minutes.”
“Ten?”
She shakes her head but walks off without writing me up. As I wind up my window, she calls out a sincere, “Good luck!”
I’ll need it. I spent three hours looking for jobs this morning, and this was the only one that came with accommodation.
