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Then I laid the note on the nightstand next to her.
I walked out of the bedroom.
Out of the guesthouse.
Out of Marjorie Steel’s life.
Chapter Fifty–One
Marjorie
The note was callous.
The words were cruel.
Even the sheet of paper was crisp and unsympathetic.
Bryce Simpson was heartless.
I’d fallen in love with a heartless man.
My purse sat on a chair on the other side of the room. Still naked from our night of passion, I rose and grabbed it. Inside the hidden pocket was something I kept, even though I’d promised Mel I’d trashed it.
It was a reminder.
It was a security blanket.
Right now I needed it.
Stop.
I could walk to the kitchen. Open the refrigerator. Let the blast of cold air ease the unpleasantness from my mind.
Yes, it would be easier.
Much easier than…
I unzipped the pocket slowly and withdrew the sharp razor blade. I sat back down on the bed and regarded the scar on my upper thigh. It was still red, but it had healed. If I left it alone, it would eventually turn white and then gradually fade over the years.
Slowly, I lowered the blade to my flesh.
Epilogue
I shine my knife. I polish my gun. Always keeping one eye on you.
And I remember.
You will pay.
You will all pay.
* * *
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