Page 99 of Forever Gone

Deb ate while scrolling through the phone. Once, Deb smiled at something on the screen. Another time, the smile vanished so quickly that the change might have meant nothing.

The killer wondered who had sent the message.

A man from the print shop? Someone Deb met after leaving the marriage? A stranger from HearthSpace who knew only the version Deb chose to display?

Jealousy would have made sense, but the killer felt something cleaner. Rage had no need to pretend it was love.

Deb finished half the sandwich, wrapped the rest, and placed it back in the bag. The bottle remained unopened. Lunch breaks had grown shorter since Harry started taking larger commercial orders, but Deb still used the square when the rain stopped.

The killer left the car.

Cold wind moved beneath the killer’s coat. The scent of wet soil rose from the flower beds near the railing. Across the street, Deb remained focused on the phone.

The killer walked to the corner, crossed with the light, and entered the park through the southern gate.

Black railings stood between the path and the road. For a moment, the killer stopped behind them and watched.

Deb sat with one leg crossed over the other. Red lipstick marked the edge of the sandwich wrapper. A strand of blond hair had come loose near the forehead, and Deb smoothed it back with two fingers.

Deb was pretty, and people had always forgiven her for it.

The killer moved along the path.

Each step brought Deb’s old words closer. Advice delivered with absolute confidence, as though someone else’s marriage could be reduced to a few lines on a screen. Leave him. Protect yourself. Don’t look back. Deb had been more certain than any of them.

A leaf struck the killer’s shoulder and slid away.

The killer approached from behind.

Deb must have heard the footsteps. Deb lowered the phone and turned. Recognition spread across the carefully made-up features.

A smile followed.

“Oh, fancy seeing you here.”

The killer returned it.

“Great to see you, Deb.”

There was no alarm in Deb’s expression. No caution. That pleased the killer more than fear would have.

The killer sat on the bench, leaving a polite distance between them.

Deb tucked the phone into a coat pocket. “What brings you into town?”

“Errands. I saw you come out of Harry’s.”

“I’m hard to miss these days.”

“That new haircut suits you.”

Deb touched the back of the styled hair. “You think?”

“Very much.”

Approval softened Deb’s posture. The killer had remembered that correctly. Compliments still opened the same door.

The old ease between them returned with disturbing speed. Anyone passing the bench would have seen two acquaintances sharing a lunch break. Deb had no reason to study the killer’s clothes, the parked car across the street, or the care taken to arrive at exactly the right time. Familiarity completed most disguises before a lie was ever spoken.