“Call me back when you do.”
“The Audi had Miss Jane’s full name written in the dust on its back windshield,” he says. “Whoever it is, is sending a message… Please return, sir.”
“I’ll be right there.”
End of Episode 21
Can’t Stay Here
EPISODE 22
Autumn
Icross the parking lot slowly, gravel crunching under my boots. One of Ryder’s men adjusts his earpiece, the other scans the shadows near the porch. I pretend not to notice—pretend this feels normal now.
My Airbnb looms ahead, still and dark.
The front steps creak beneath my weight, louder than they should. I pause at the keypad, half-expecting the code to blink red after so much time.
It flashes green.
The door opens with a click I don’t remember being that loud.
Inside, the air is stale and still.
My footsteps fade into silence as I move into the foyer, scanning the open floor plan.
My shoes are still lined up neatly by the door—exactly how I left them.
But the blanket on the couch is too neatly folded. The kitchen light hums. A spoon rests beside the sink, wet.
And the bathroom door, which IknowI closed, hangs wide open.
Something’s off.
I can’t name it, but I feel it under my skin. Like the house is holding its breath.
Maybe the landlord came to check on the place. My car hasn’t been here in days, and I’m behind on the stay.
Still, I move slower than usual. Quieter.
I collect what I came for: a duffel from the coat closet, half-stuffed with clothes I actually like wearing; my favorite violin from the wall hook—I want to show it to Adeline; and a thin stack of notes I kept on Ryder. Original research, old addresses, fragmented timelines from when I was still trying to make sense of him.
Maybe I’ll add them to Kylie’s binder. Maybe I’ll throw them away.
I zip the bag, sling it over my shoulder, and head back outside.
The sky is washed in pale gold, and distant traffic hums as a soft backdrop.
I’m halfway across the parking lot, just steps from the car, when?—
Boom! Boom! BOOM!
A violent thunderclap explodes behind me, sharper than anything I’ve ever heard, followed instantly by a surge of blistering heat and pressure.
The ground bucks, my body lifts, and for one weightless moment I’m suspended—before the pavement crashes up to meet me.
Air leaves my lungs in a single gasp. Pain slices through my ribs. Gravel digs into my hands.
