Page 89 of Shatter

The screen glows too bright in the dim room.

Aren, who's been in Apalachicola all night again, parked in the dark across from Sawgrass Point with a thermos and a pair of binoculars.

He never texts.

He calls, or he doesn't bother.

I thumb it open.

Laurent's at Sawgrass Point. Saw him go in at 2. Suit and all. Still there.

I read it twice.

The Canadian from the diner.

The one who played cousin at the counter, who drove off in the gray SUV and left Travis Kranski behind to take what was coming.

He isn't hiding in a motel somewhere.

He's ninety minutes down the road, inside the building those reefer trucks have been rolling into for nearly three years.

My hand goes still on her back.

I look down at her.

She's asleep on my chest with her lips parted, her hand curled against my stomach.

The faint pink scar runs down the inside of her forearm where it's draped over me.

I turn the phone face down on the nightstand.

Then I lie there, holding her, and watch the window go from pink to gold.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Anni

Water's running when I wake up.

For a second, I don't know where I am.

Then the ceiling fan swims into focus, and the brown stain in the corner.

The smell of him is on the pillow under my cheek.

His side of the bed is cool.

Not warm-cool, like he rolled away a minute ago, but cold, like he's been gone a while.

I push my hair out of my face and look around.

His boots are lined up by the wall, his cut hung on the chair.

His phone lies face down on the nightstand.

He never leaves it face down.

He keeps it screen up and close, even when he sleeps, so he'll see it light up before it buzzes.