Nadia:Doing a job took that long.
Dots flow along the edge of the text thread as he types.
Ian:That’s one hell of an anniversary night.
Right. Way to celebrate ten years.
She deserved it, I reply.
Today, the load feels heavy. All the things I’m supposed to do. The knowledge that my life as I know it may come to a screeching halt before it goes boom. That there could be—likelyare—people out there right now, planning Brian’s death.
And that pressure, the other creature inside me wanting blood—she’s already back, crawling at the edges of my mind.
I press my palms to my eyes and take some deep breaths. Is this what happens when people like me lose it? When they become the serial killers who go on a rampage and end up captured or dead and someone records a podcast about how terrible they were?
Another text buzzes in from Ian.
Ian:What are you doing now?
Over the dashboard, I stare at the steak house, then at the car’s clock. At this rate, I’ll lose my mind in a few days. With marks, it might be boring, but it’s also ahunt—learning their habits, what makes them tick, imagining how best to kill them. All I’m doingnowis smelling the stench of dead animals cooking while businesspeople sidle up to lunch.
Nadia:Bored following my husband. He sits in an office all day. Now he’s out to lunch with a bunch of suits.
Ian:Want company?
I freeze, an animal cracker halfway to my mouth.
He wants to keep me company? I can’t imagine him in the passenger’s seat, shooting the shit while we stare at my husband through the window of a restaurant. And worse, what if Brianseesus?
My phone rings before I can decide.
Brian.
I swallow, hit the green button to answer, hope he’s not watching me from inside the steak house, wondering why the hell I’m sitting out here.
“Hello?”
“Hey, sweetheart, they are asking me to go to San Diego to meet with a company considering hiring us. I’ll be there all weekend.”
“San Diego?” I croak the words out. It’s not his usual DC or St. Louis. It’s halfway across the country, somewhere warm andsunny andbeachy, and quite frankly, just the sort of place I can imagine someone “having a meeting” with the woman they are fucking on the side. Or heck, maybe he’s taking his other family on vacation.
Either way, I can’t protect him if he’s on the West Coast. This would basically be adeathtrip, not a work trip.
“They were going to send someone else, but he got sick and—” I tune out his excuses. Maybe this isn’t a bad thing. Other family or no, he’s probably safernotat home, now that I think about it. If he’s not following his normal routines or in his typical locations, it’ll make him harder to kill. A person’s regular patterns are how killers like me find someone easily, anticipate how best to off them.
Not to mention…
I can go too.
Notwithhim but following him. I can watch him there instead of here, where he’s actually doing his shady business.
“I understand,” I say, my voice brightening. “I totally get it. No problem.”
The plan evolves in my head: Graham can take the girls. If Brian’s gone, they’ll be free from the target on his back. Piper can watch Bear. And Ian—maybe Ian will want to go with me. I’ll need help.
“Great,” he says, sounding relieved. Maybetoorelieved.
We disconnect, and I text Ian.
