Wright appears at the door and comes to kneel in front of me, running her hand through my hair.
“It hurts,” I cry.
“I know, honey. I know.”
The crying comes in full force then, my chest wracked with sobs as tears and snot clog my face. Wright climbs onto the bed and spoons me, holding me together as I fall apart.
Eventually my sobs quieten and I turn in the bed to face Wright.
She brushes my hair back where it’s stuck to my face, and I wipe my nose on my sleeve.
Dear Miss Halloway, we’d like to feature you on the cover of Vogue.
“At risk of increasing the snot avalanche, what exactly happened between you two?” Wright asks.
I stare at the silver ring in Wright’s lip. “He’s going to kill the senator.”
Wright waits but I don’t say anything else. “Okay…”
My gaze flicks up to meet hers. “Okay? It’s not okay, Wright. He’s going to kill someone.”
Her brow furrows. “Yeah, but…you knew that. You knew from the very beginning that he was a killer. It didn’t stop you from falling for him.”
My stomach churns. “It should have.”
“But it didn’t.” Wright settles her hand on my wrist. “He’s never hurt you, right? Or made you feel uncomfortable?”
I shake my head. Even when he climbed through my bedroom window, I was never that scared. He was toonice. And funny. And gentle.
Wright sighs, her breath brushing my damp cheeks. “My logical brain wants me to tell you that you’re right, that the whole stalking thing is low key—okay high key—a red flag.”
The pit in my stomach deepens, leaving me feeling hollow at the thought of never seeing Flynn again. “What does your non-logical brain want to tell me?”
A dimple appears in Wright’s cheek as she smiles sadly. “That I’ve never seen you happier than you’ve been this past month and you already knew about the stalking.” She pokes a finger into my shoulder, and I grimace because I know I’m going to get shit for not telling her about the cameras sooner.
“What if it’s like with Tommy?” I whisper, feeling bad even voicing the question. “I didn’t realize with him until it was too late, what if this is the same?”
Wright cups my cheek. “Oh honey. It’s not the same.”
“He’s a murderer,” I argue. “How can I be with someone who kills when that’s what happened to my—” I break off, hiccupping on a cry.
Understanding washes over Wright’s face as she figures out what this is really about. “Your parents were innocent. The people Flynn kills are not.”
“And that’s supposed to make it okay?” I argue. I’m a 911 operator, I’m supposed to care about justice. “He’s going to kill the senator,” I say again.
“And?”
“And what?”
“He’s a convicted serial killer, Hazel. You knew that. So why is this different?”
Wright’s gaze is too inquisitive, too knowing. I break eye contact and stare at the fishnet overlay on her black top. “Because this time I could stop him,” I whisper. “I could call the police and tell them where he is, what he’s planning.”
“And let a serial rapist go free.” Wright’s words make my stomach hollow, the impossibility of the choice tearing me in two. Wright is the last person on earth who would want a rapist to get off scot-free but it’s not that simple.
“I can’t stand by and watch him kill someone.” The gun shots from yesterday echo in my mind and I see the bodies dropping to the ground. Lachlan’s hand around the gun. “I just can’t, Wright. I can’t be that person.”
I risk peering up at her and she presses her lips together, her brow pinched. “Are you going to turn Flynn in?”
