Page 113

I stare at the listing.

It’s convenient. Temporary.

I look at the road ahead. This doesn't mean I'm staying. It means I don't have another assignment yet.

There's no reason to drive somewhere else just to wait.

Bishop doesn't need to know.

Beck definitely doesn't need to know.

And Callie⁠—

I stop.

This has nothing to do with her.

I tap the number.

The phone rings twice and then a woman answers. “Hello?”

“I’m calling about the furnished house outside Hollow Creek.”

“Yes. It's still available.”

I look toward town. “How soon can I move in?”

She pauses. “Do you want to see it first?”

“No. I saw the pictures.”

She pauses again, a flustered noise coming out before she says, “Today, if you'd like.”

I should hang up.

Instead, I say, “I'll take it.”

There's a pause.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see it first?”

“Yes.”

Another pause.

“Okay.”

I close my eyes.

Even the rental agent thinks I'm fucking insane.

She starts explaining the lease.

I barely listen.

My gaze settles on the Welcome to Hollow Creek sign.

Fourteen days ago, all I wanted was to get out of Vermont.