Selena was cooking, and she didn’t even mind.
She had the ingredients from her BistroBox spread out on the table. Everything was washed and ready. She was ready, to cut and sauté and broil. As long as she could stay where she was, cooking while watching TV.
Selena was mesmerized. This was too much. Unlike anything she had ever seen. Especially in her own backyard.
Four families. Dead. In one city.
And whether Selena liked it or not, this was at least in some way all about her.
The scarves tied her to this, like a submissive’s wrists to her master’s whims. And here she was, trying to figure out why someone was trying so hard to flatter her with homicide.
Selena shouldn’t feel so excited. But the heat felt good, warming her from the inside. She would do anything to keep it going, despite the danger.
But there was a big problem, looming and serious. Something that could plow into their lives and total them, like an eighteen-wheeler careening into a MINI Cooper.
Now that there were four scarves, someone would put two and two together.
At first Selena believed that the third scarf would be tied to her, distinctive as it was, and eager as amateur sleuths tended to be. But after a few days passed without any attention — an eternity in awareness online — she felt safe enough to settle back into her skin.
But this new scarf … emerald green with yellow darts? That one graced Selena’s neck on the back of her latest book. It was impossible to believe that no one was going to notice that. And once they noticed this last one, the preceding three would line up single file to accuse her.
You were wrong about your research.
You were wrong about your husband.
You were wrong about everything.
Now people are dead, just like your career.
She knew Adam better than anyone on the planet. She hadn’t just bet his career on his ability to control his violence, she’d bet her life, and the lives of her children. She couldn’t be wrong about him. Their very existence proved it.
Unless he was just getting started.
Unless their sessions merely delayed the inevitable.
What did Selena really know?
Not nearly as much as she pretended in front of the cameras.
She doubted that the police would find any hard evidence at the crime scene. Not in the car, not in the house, not anywhere near Rancho Vista. This killer was too clever for that. And whatever they found on Ollie would be entirely circumstantial, like last time.
Almost as if it were planted.
It really could be him. Her Adam. But if she had been wrong all these years, and he really was sick, then …
No. She still couldn’t think about it. Not until she knew for sure.
And even then, Selena would—
Her phone buzzed.
Then it buzzed and buzzed and buzzed and buzzed.
Her heart was an army of drums as she picked it up and looked at the screen.
LifeLyfe was exploding.
Because someone had leaked the truth about The Virgin.
And now her phone was ringing. The screen read: Sam.
Selena screamed.