“He has a new client, and this guy is a total asshole. He’s one of those jerks who thinks the world revolves around him because he’s a billionaire. When he comes to town for meetings, Oliver has to entertain him, which I don’t mind. I get it. But it doesn’t mean he needs to keep my husband out until one a.m.”
“And where did Mr. Tate jet off to this time?” she asks, tipping her wine glass to her lips.
“Chicago again. The firm opened an office there and told him he must fly there every other week for a couple of days. He’ll be home tomorrow night.”
“I would hate it if Travis traveled like that. He only goes on the occasional business trip, and I usually tag along. You should go with Oliver the next time he goes to Chicago. Have somefun together. I’m sure he’s not working twenty-four hours while there.”
“Yeah. Maybe I will.” I smile. “The firm rented an apartment for him while he’s there. I’d love to see what it looks like.”
“Then it’s settled. You tell him that you’re going with him next time. Just tell Carter you’re taking a couple of days off.”
I give her a simple smile. Samantha and I have been friends since the first day I started at the law firm. I can ask her anything, and she won’t judge me.
“Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?” I ask.
A perplexed look crosses her face. “What do you mean?”
“Do you ever feel like someone is watching you? If you’re walking down the street, do you ever feel someone is following and watching your every move?”
“I can’t say I have. Do you?” Her brows furrow.
“Sometimes.” I tip the wine glass to my lips.
“Well, I’m not surprised, considering that painting is in your home.” She points and then glances at her watch. “I didn’t realize what time it was. I have to get home and prepare for court tomorrow.” We walk into the foyer, where she grabs her purse from the table. “Thank you for dinner. It was wonderful.” She hugs me.
“Thanks for coming over and keeping me company. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
My feet movealong the crowded sidewalk, my eyes darting back and forth as I search for the source of the prickling sensation at the back of my neck. People bustle around me, their faces alert, but no one seems to be paying me any attention.Yet I can't shake the feeling that I’m being watched, a sense of someone’s eyes following my every move.
I pick up the pace and stand in the Conservatory Gardens in Central Park. The sun is shining, and the heat is stifling. The flowers should be in full bloom this time of year, but they’re not. They’re wilted, brown, and dead. I couldn't help but bend down and run my finger across the lifeless blooms, feeling the crunchiness of their decay beneath my fingertips. The hairs on my neck stand up when someone is behind me, watching. When I slowly turn my head, I gasp at the pair of eyes staring back at me—Eyes Without a Face.
My eyes fly open as my fingers grip the sheets. My heart is pounding out of my chest, and I’m drenched in sweat. Sitting up, I reach over and turn on the lamp, taking in several deep breaths the way Dr. Burton taught me. I wish Oliver were here. If there was ever a time I needed him, it was now.
I climb out of bed and flip the light switch in the bathroom. Turning on the cold water, I splash some on my face and stare at myself in the mirror.
“It was only a dream, Kat,” I whisper.
The following morning, when I reach the bottom step, my eyes instantly go to the painting in the corner of the living room. Lately, having the painting in the house is making things worse for me, heightening my paranoia. So I walk over to the easel, grab the painting, take it to the curb, and lay it next to the trash bin. Thank God today is garbage day. I never want to see that painting again.
15
DAHLIA
Before
She deserves better than him.I wish she would open her eyes and see him for what he truly is. But she’s always been oblivious to things.
I follow him and Julia Freemont to Kelly’s Diner. He texted Katherine after school and told her he had to cancel their plans because he was sick. She bought his story and offered to bring him some chicken soup—stupid girl. I knew he was lying. Just like he lied the five other times he canceled their date.
They’re seated at a booth in front of the window. I stand on the corner across the street and watch. It’s cold out, and light snow is falling. I keep my hands tucked inside my coat pockets to keep them warm. I should have worn gloves.
They’re laughing, and Julia rests her hand on his, their fingers intertwined. The server walks over and sets down their food. He ordered a burger. She ordered chicken fingers. A mountain of golden fries sits between them, waiting to be devoured. He picks one up and tosses it at her. She throws her head back and laughs before picking one up and tossing it athim. It’s disgusting. I want to claw his eyes out. He’s a cheater and a liar and needs to be punished for his sins.
After they eat, they climb into his blue Ford Focus. I climb into my car and follow them back to Julia’s house. He pulls into the driveway five minutes before her curfew. The street is dark, and my black car blends with the night. I watch as he opens the car door for her and walks her to the porch. He grabs her and pulls her into him for a make-out session. He will be punished.
His parents are out of town, which makes this the perfect night to punish him for his sins. I drive to his home, park down the street, climb out of my car, and look around to make sure no one is nearby. It’s quiet. I need to hurry and get inside before he comes home.
I reach into my bag, pull out the syringe with M99 I scored from some thug in a sketchy part of town, and tuck it into my pocket. I slip the latex gloves over my hands and grab the chef’s knife I purchased from the thrift store for a dollar. It wasn’t very sharp when I bought it, so I took it to be sharpened.
