“I’m fine,” I tell him, shaking my head.
“You said you saw paint on the wall?”
“Yes.”
He shrugs a big shoulder. “What did it say?”
I swallow hard before answering.
“Mine.”
His eyebrows shoot up, and he purses his lips.
“Well, it wasn’t one of us,” he says quickly.
Too quickly.
It hurts.
“I know.”
“Listen, take a little time off. Get out of Dodge for a while, yeah? We weren’t meeting this weekend anyway.”
I nod. That actually sounds like a good idea. When things are going haywire, I don’t like staying in one place too long. I never did.
The cool thing about Dublin is how easy it is to leave. In six hours, I could be in America, Iceland, Greenland, or Paris.
“Good idea.”
He gives me a brotherly pat on the shoulder.
“That’s a lass. Go take care of yourself. We’ll have work for you when you come back.”
Then he’s gone.
And I’m alone in my apartment. Back with my crazy thoughts and fucking stalker.
I snatch my phone off the nightstand. I need to get to the airport and book a flight.
Paris is quick and easy. Too many tourists. No one will suspect I’m there. And it’s fun to get dressed up.
I can do this.
I need cash. Once I get a ticket, I’ll have a way out.
I quickly pack my bag, but when I find my blonde wig hanging exactly where I thought I left it, I hesitate.
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe I have gone bonkers.
I eye the prescription bottle sitting next to my bed, then shove it into the bottom of my bag.
Cash is the easiest way to move. I have a small stash in my safe, and I’ll take that with me.
I open the safe.
It’s empty.
