“Has Damien come back yet?”
She barely raises her head, whispers out a soft “No.”
“What about Preston?”
She shakes her head, resting her forehead against her forearm. Muffled sobs escape.
My eyes study the front door. The textured glass ripples in the moonlight beyond. Damien has been gone a long time. Too long. He left before I went outside to cover Marlowe’s body, and Preston took off after him at my request. What if Preston encountered Damien and now he’s in danger? If Oliver was willing to kill Danielle to keep his cover, Damien could be just as violent.
Deeming Constance completely useless, I march through the hallway in search of Ava. The door to the Fairy Room remains shut. When I enter the bedroom, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed staring ahead at nothing. She shoots upright when she sees me.
“Are the police here?”
“Not yet.”
She lowers herself back down, defeated. “I just want this night to end.”
“Have you seen Preston?”
“No, and I don’t want to.”
I can only imagine how she’s feeling right now, but in spite of their marital discord, we must work together, at least a little bit longer.
“Look, Damien took off a while ago. Preston went after him, and they still haven’t returned.”
Alarm glints in her eyes, just barely. “What are you saying?”
I crouch in front of her. “We’re running out of time. I need to confront Damien before the police arrive. I can’t risk him telling them about Oliver.”
Ava’s throat quivers like she’s choking down bile. “We still don’t know he’s the one sending the notes.”
“Actually, we do,” I say, pulling the cell out of my pocket. “This is Oliver’s phone. I found it upstairs in Damien’s room.” I pause. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier.”
We both know why. She went running out of the room, life as she knew it completely shattered.
“Look, I know you hate Preston right now. And Constance. But if Damien is as dangerous as Oliver was, Preston could be in trouble. Deep down, I don’t think you want that.”
Her face is a stony mask attempting to conceal any love for Preston that remains.
“You still think Damien pushed Marlowe?”
I nod, my lip quivering. I can’t tell her about Constance’s confession. Not yet. Finding Damien is more important than anything.
She sighs and tilts her head. “What do you want me to do?”
“I’m going to look for Damien and Preston. I need you to sit with Constance—”
“No—”
“Ava, please! I know you hate her right now, but we can’t leave her alone. We don’t need another dead body on our hands,” I say. “Think about the baby.”
She exhales again, closing her eyes. Ava may be a woman scorned, but she still has a heart, a soul.
“I need to figure out what Damien wants from me. Marmee thinks he might want money.”
“You told Marmee what you did?”
“Just now,” I say. “Look, I’m desperate. I’m risking the rest of my life in prison for what I did to Oliver. Confronting Damien is my only hope.”
