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No.
Oh God, no.
Jack’s lying to me.
It’s all one big fucking lie.
“He knows,” I sobbed. “Oh my God, he knows – ”
“Calm down.”
“I have to get out of here – ”
“Where are you?”
“Jack’s.”
I could hear the panic as Eddie asked, “Is he there?!”
“No. He left.”
Relief in his voice. “Then stay there.”
“What?! Why?”
“He hasn’t hurt you?”
“No.”
“Then he doesn’t know anything. He only suspects.”
“Great – he only SUSPECTS.”
“If you leave, he’ll know for sure. Besides, where would you go?”
I grasped for somewhere, anywhere safe. “Back to LA.”
“You’re going to quit? You’ll never find out who killed her if you do.”
“No thanks to you,” I said savagely.
“Look, you’re safer with me on your team than all by yourself, even in Los Angeles.”
I couldn’t process it. It was too hard to concentrate, to parse all the variables and contingencies. In the end I settled on the one thing I wanted most, the simplest thing.
“I want my photo album back.”
“You’ll get it. When you’re situated in a safe place, somewhere Jack or anybody else won’t find it.”
“I’m not fucking around.”
“Neither am I. But in the meantime, stay at his place. You’re safest there.”
“I thought I was safer with YOU on my team.”
“You are. But he’ll protect you even better than I can.”
“How can you be sure?”
