“The headlines will all say ‘True-Crime Podcast Host Attacks New York Governor.’”
“Hey, you don’t—” I started.
He shook his head. “You warned me.”
“Are you okay with that?”
His eyes softened, and he huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Compared to what you’re doing, it’s nothing. Besides, there happens to be this woman I’d give anything to protect, too.”
We looked at each other until he drew a deep breath. “I’ll call my producers. I bet we can have the story up in hours.”
“No,” I said quickly. “If you do it now, Governor Barry will just cancel his party, and Don will take off. Who knows if I’ll ever get Laurel back? You have to wait until we’re inside.”
“That’s insane.”
“I know. But when will I get another chance like this?” I was an expert in desperate opportunities.
He frowned. “Fine. I’ll have my producers get it ready, but we’ll wait to go live. Shay.” His hand stirred by his side, as if he wanted to reach out and touch me. “I know it feels like it, but you’re not alone.”
I held out my hand to him. “Come with me.”
***
They’ll ask you what you knew and when you knew it. It’s important to pinpoint this knowing, to establish when you made certain decisions. Whether your actions were premeditated or the result of the heat of the moment. If I were ever to tell them, I might say it was this moment, as the shower water beat over me and Jamie’s hands carved down my body, that the seed of what would happen took root.
Of course, that might be a lie. It could have been much earlier. Perhaps when I felt the stirrings of the familiar inferno, or back further, the moment I heard Laurel’s name on Jamie’s podcast, the day I escaped from Don’s house, the school fire, the first evening I picked up The Thousand and One Nights and started reading, heart flooding with recognition. Perhaps it was all the way back to 9:38 on a Tuesday night, ten years old. I could have been hurtling toward this all my life.
Or maybe it was the heat after all. All that passion. A thing I did when I wasn’t in my right mind, when I couldn’t fully consent, even to myself.
Impossible to say.
I guess you get to decide.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I stood outside the house like so many nights before, preparing myself. Unlike at the other Pater gatherings, which unfolded in the shadows, the Hilltop buzzed with people, an explosion of camera crews and caterers, aides jogging the grounds, guests in tuxedos and floor-length gowns. Anticipation charged the air. Everyone here knew what the governor’s announcement would be. They weren’t here to be surprised; they were here to be part of history.
The Hilltop was lit by torches on the walls, all its doors thrown open, music pouring out. It was a sight to behold from the end of the long driveway. Don’s castle upon the hill.
Jamie rushed back, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “My team’s ready to drop the episode. We have posts ready to go to our email list and across every social platform. All we need is to tell them to press the button.” He smiled weakly. “Then none of them can hurt you.”
He’s not going to kill you, Shay, I heard Laurel say. He used to love you best.
I shook my head. “Of course they won’t.”
***
The security man at the door squinted at Jamie’s ID, then down at his list. I held my breath, praying Jamie’s producers had come through.
“Merciless Media?” The man gave Jamie a doubtful look. “Never heard of it.”