It’s quiet and empty. A yellow sticky note is on the front door, and I grab and read it.
There are alarms and cameras everywhere.
Try to run, and I’ll catch you.
Another romantic note from the hubby.
I crumple the note in my hand and shove it inside my pocket before checking out the window for Emilio’s SUV.
It’s gone.
Good riddance.
My new home may be quiet, but it’s not peaceful. An eeriness follows me with each step.
I peek into the parlor room, where there’s intricate wallpaper, a stained glass Tiffany chandelier, and a sofa covered with a dust cloth.
As I keep walking, I pass a bathroom and a billiards room with a pool table.
I don’t stop my search until I reach a library. Standing in the doorway, I take in the room with awe. Moss-green walls and shelves of the same color take up most of the space. Crown molding traces the ceiling.
As I inch deeper into the room, I inhale the smell of dust and leather. An outdated computer sits on the desk in the center of the room.
I walk around, running my fingers along the book spines.
So many classics.
There’s even a shelf of books I spent my childhood reading.
Junie B. Jones.The Baby-Sitters Club.Anne of Green Gables. Twilight. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. The Hunger Games.
I laugh softly while grabbing a Junie B. Jones book before collapsing on the faded green sofa, curling my legs beneath me. I flip through the pages and make myself comfortable.
All my troubles fade as I read. I forget about Emilio, my marriage, murder, Dasha.
It’s just me and fiction.
When I’m finished, I grab another book and sit back down.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
My heart races as I slowly drag my gaze toward the doorway.
Emilio stands there, jaw clenched, with revulsion on his face.
He’s pissed I’m in here, and I’m about to pay the consequences for it.
9
Emilio stares me down,his nostrils flaring wider with every second. “Stand up.”
I didn’t hear him come inside.
Though I’m sure he’d win an Olympic medal in the sport of sneaking up on people and hitting them when they least expected it.
My father spent years trying to teach Aleksy that skill. He always failed. It’s probably why he’s passing the wholemurder Emiliotask to me.
Emilio clears his throat, snapping my attention back to him.
