is sore, so I roll it before putting my left hand in my jacket pocket. The jacket is heavy, and it’s not cold here, but I can’t bring myself to take it off. Now that I’m here, I feel weird. I feel naked. Exposed. I guess it’s because she got one up on me that day at the vineyard.Or maybe I’m just nervous. I ring her bell.
I pull the little picture out of my jeans pocket and look down at Meredith’s face while I bang on the door. It sucks being here—having to go to Priscilla Heat for anything—but I remind myself that I’m doing this for one of her victims. One who didn’t escape her like I did.
I slide the picture back into my pocket and I lift my hand to knock again. Before my knuckles hit the wood, I hear a second of static, followed by Priscilla Heat’s snippy voice. “What do you want?”
I spy a discreet speaker on the wall to my right; it’s maybe the size of a wallet, and painted to blend in with one of the slabs of stone. Facing it, I say, “This is Cross Carlson.”
“I can see that.” I glance up, then left, and there’s the camera. I need to be more observant. I tilt my head back at it and shove my right hand into my pocket. “Look—I want to talk to you.”
“Not interested.”
There’s a noise, like the connection was cut, and I say, “Wait! Are you there?”
No answer.
I ring the doorbell eleven times before I hear the speaker come on. “This is harassment.” She sounds annoyed. “I can have you arrested.”
I snort. Yeah, right. I direct my gaze back to the camera. “I’ll stop if you let me in.”
“You’ll stop when I send my body guards down.” She sounds intent, but something in her voice makes me think she’s lying. Probably the knowledge, also provided by Hunter West, that she’s almost broke.
Regardless, I try another angle. “Your trial’s coming up, right? Sometime in July?”
There’s a pause. When she speaks, she sounds bitter. “What do you want, Cross Carlson?” She drags my last name out, like it’s a curse word, and I wonder if my father has really severed ties with her this time.
“I said I want to talk.” I roll my eyes at her through the camera. “There’s something in it for you. After you hear me, if you don’t want to help me, you can tell me to go fuck myself. I’m not interested in spending more time with you than I have to.”
Another pause, during which I can practically see her face pinch into a frown. “Come inside. Third floor, second bedroom on the right. If you see the bunnies, don’t be loud or stomp. It frightens them.”
The intercom goes dead and the front door clicks open. The foyer is gaudy emerald marble, but obviously expensive, so I guess she’s not completely out of money.
I’m about halfway up the highway-wide sparkling stone staircase when I notice something dart past me. It’s small and dark, and the shock of it zipping between my legs almost makes me lose my footing. I climb a little faster, and that’s when I see its ears wiggle.
Bunnies…
I see a second set of ears, and a third.
Holy shit, does this lunatic have a McMansion full of rabbits?
CHAPTER EIGHT
As if in answer, when I get to the third floor landing, a large, brown rabbit approaches. His ears twitch as he sniffs my boots. I spot more rabbits roaming the lush red carpet. Most of them are white, but some are brown and others black. One is gray. I’m so shocked by them, I almost don’t notice that I’m heading left instead of right. I turn around, almost squishing a really tiny white rabbit with my boot, and I hear a squeal echo through the sound system.
“BE CAREFUL!”
I turn a quick circle, looking from my feet to the ceiling, where I see more cameras. Damn. I’ve gotta get better at this shit.
I roll my eyes again and make my way to her bedroom door, hyper-focused of how big and dirty my boots are on the thick carpet. Or, at least I am until I see three more of the little critters huddled together farther
I pull the little picture out of my jeans pocket and look down at Meredith’s face while I bang on the door. It sucks being here—having to go to Priscilla Heat for anything—but I remind myself that I’m doing this for one of her victims. One who didn’t escape her like I did.
I slide the picture back into my pocket and I lift my hand to knock again. Before my knuckles hit the wood, I hear a second of static, followed by Priscilla Heat’s snippy voice. “What do you want?”
I spy a discreet speaker on the wall to my right; it’s maybe the size of a wallet, and painted to blend in with one of the slabs of stone. Facing it, I say, “This is Cross Carlson.”
“I can see that.” I glance up, then left, and there’s the camera. I need to be more observant. I tilt my head back at it and shove my right hand into my pocket. “Look—I want to talk to you.”
“Not interested.”
There’s a noise, like the connection was cut, and I say, “Wait! Are you there?”
No answer.
I ring the doorbell eleven times before I hear the speaker come on. “This is harassment.” She sounds annoyed. “I can have you arrested.”
I snort. Yeah, right. I direct my gaze back to the camera. “I’ll stop if you let me in.”
“You’ll stop when I send my body guards down.” She sounds intent, but something in her voice makes me think she’s lying. Probably the knowledge, also provided by Hunter West, that she’s almost broke.
Regardless, I try another angle. “Your trial’s coming up, right? Sometime in July?”
There’s a pause. When she speaks, she sounds bitter. “What do you want, Cross Carlson?” She drags my last name out, like it’s a curse word, and I wonder if my father has really severed ties with her this time.
“I said I want to talk.” I roll my eyes at her through the camera. “There’s something in it for you. After you hear me, if you don’t want to help me, you can tell me to go fuck myself. I’m not interested in spending more time with you than I have to.”
Another pause, during which I can practically see her face pinch into a frown. “Come inside. Third floor, second bedroom on the right. If you see the bunnies, don’t be loud or stomp. It frightens them.”
The intercom goes dead and the front door clicks open. The foyer is gaudy emerald marble, but obviously expensive, so I guess she’s not completely out of money.
I’m about halfway up the highway-wide sparkling stone staircase when I notice something dart past me. It’s small and dark, and the shock of it zipping between my legs almost makes me lose my footing. I climb a little faster, and that’s when I see its ears wiggle.
Bunnies…
I see a second set of ears, and a third.
Holy shit, does this lunatic have a McMansion full of rabbits?
CHAPTER EIGHT
As if in answer, when I get to the third floor landing, a large, brown rabbit approaches. His ears twitch as he sniffs my boots. I spot more rabbits roaming the lush red carpet. Most of them are white, but some are brown and others black. One is gray. I’m so shocked by them, I almost don’t notice that I’m heading left instead of right. I turn around, almost squishing a really tiny white rabbit with my boot, and I hear a squeal echo through the sound system.
“BE CAREFUL!”
I turn a quick circle, looking from my feet to the ceiling, where I see more cameras. Damn. I’ve gotta get better at this shit.
I roll my eyes again and make my way to her bedroom door, hyper-focused of how big and dirty my boots are on the thick carpet. Or, at least I am until I see three more of the little critters huddled together farther
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