“I’ll call you back,” I tell Sloane.
“Cole.”
“Yeah?”
“Careful.”
I end the call and open the driver’s door. “What is it?”
Kara turns her phone toward me. A text from Vanessa.
Did you call Dr. Vale? I’m proud of you if you did. I know that old culinary school nightmare still haunts you sometimes. Maybe all this is stirring up those memories too. You always got through it because you had me. You still do.
My jaw tightens before I can stop it. Kara sees it.
“What?” she asks.
I get in and close the door, giving us a sealed pocket of quiet.
Her expression shifts. “You don’t like that text.”
“I don’t like parts of it.”
“Which parts?”
The answer is easy. All of them. I don’t say that.
“She’s framing what’s happening now as an emotional echo of what happened then.”
“Maybe it is.”
“Maybe.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“I think someone sent you a photo of your stolen knife yesterday.”
Her mouth tightens.
“I know that.”
“I think fear can affect memory and judgment. I also think real threats like using that to hide.”
She looks away through the windshield. “Vanessa would never hurt me.”
I keep my voice calm. “I didn’t say she would.”
“But you’re thinking something.”
“I’m thinking everyone who knew your location stays relevant until we know how that knife photo text got to you.”
“She found me the rental. She checked on me because she loves me.”
“I believe she loves you.”
Kara turns toward me then, and the hurt in her face hits me hard.
“You can love someone and still hurt them?” she asks.
