Irina left the envelope on the table. She extended her hand. It hung in the space between us for an uncomfortably long time. Every cell in my body recoiled as I shook it once, quick to let go.
Exhaustion set in as I watched her go, the absolution I’d found after my confession to Julian last night suddenly buried under a mountain of fresh guilt. Patricia’s letter felt just as heavy as the brick of cash Irina had paid me. I turned it over in my hands, grateful to find the envelope sealed shut. If it was sealed, I wouldn’t be tempted to open it. And I couldn’t be accused of knowing whose name was inside. Or how much their life was worth.
I tucked Patricia’s letter in my purse and walked out of Panera, grateful when no one stopped me. I got in my van, grateful when the alternator started. Grateful for the night I’d spent with Julian. Grateful that Patricia was alive, that Irina was out of my life, and that Feliks was behind bars. But mostly, I was grateful to get home to Vero and my kids, and that the nightmare of the last few weeks was over.
EPILOGUE
The house was quiet. Vero was downstairs watching reality TV, and the kids were asleep for the night. I carried a mug of hot chocolate to my office, set it on the coaster beside my keyboard, and stirred the mouse. The screen came to life.
I braced myself as I stared at the face of a new blank document. The screen was bright, empty, and more than a little terrifying. I had turned in my finished draft to Sylvia last night, and my editor was already wanting to know the plot of the next one.
I cracked my knuckles and started typing.
BOOK 2: Untitled First Draft by Fiona Donahue
My hands hovered over the keyboard as I waited for divine inspiration to strike. I stared at the screen for what seemed like an eternity, but I hadn’t the foggiest idea what to write.
I slouched back in my chair. Took a sip of my cocoa. The last story had begun with Patricia Mickler’s note … a slip of paper on a Panera tray.
I slid open my drawer, peeking at the sealed envelope at the bottom of it. Vero and I had sworn we would never open it. And yet, neither of us had volunteered to throw it away. Instead, I’d kept it, telling myself it was a cautionary reminder of the Pandora’s box we’d opened before.
I picked up the envelope and held it against the light of the screen, but the ink was too faint and the envelope too thick; I couldn’t make out the letters through the creamy textured stationery. The cursor blinked, ticking away the seconds. And here I was, wasting my few precious hours of solitude staring at an empty screen.
All I needed was an idea. A spark of inspiration.
I tore a tiny hole in the edge of the envelope and stuck a finger inside. The paper made a loud shushing sound as I slid it along the seam. I paused, listening for Vero’s footsteps in the hall, certain the rip had been loud enough to incriminate me. A TV laugh track rose up in the background, and I pulled the letter free.
All I needed was a name. The name of some terrible, horrible man whose life I could pick apart online until I came up with a story of my own.
I unfolded the paper from the envelope, skimming Patricia’s note.
I FOUND THIS JOB POSTING ONLINE, ON A WEBSITE FOR PEOPLE LIKE ME. I WASN’T SURE IT WOULD INTEREST YOU, BUT I THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW.
I glanced down at the name and froze. I read it again, then the dollar amount, certain I must have misread it the first time.
STEVEN DONOVAN
$100,000 CASH
The address was my ex-husband’s farm.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book was born in a crowded Panera in 2017 over lunch with my longtime critique partners, as we were talking through some particularly challenging plot holes in a particularly bloody story I was writing under a particularly tight deadline. The diners around us had given us some rather odd looks, and later that evening, we’d laughed about how lucky we were that they hadn’t gotten the wrong idea about who we were and what we were （and were not） plotting there. In that moment, the inspiration for this book nearly knocked me off my feet, and by the end of the night, the three of us had hashed out a very rough character sketch for Finn, as well as a pitch for her story. As with every book I’ve ever written, I am deeply grateful for Ashley Elston and Megan Miranda. Thank you for your support, encouragement, and the countless laughs we’ve shared through it all. This story is yours as much as it is mine. You remain the very best part of this wild ride, and I would bury a body with either of you.
I would never have found these two amazing friends had it not been for my superhero real-life agent, Sarah Davies. Thank you for introducing the three of us all those years ago, thank you for your unwavering faith in me since, and thank you for loving Finn. I am grateful for all I’ve learned and all the ways you continue to support me.