Layla

“No. Willow is a spirit trapped in this house who sometimes uses your body to communicate.”

“A spirit.” She says it flatly, as if I’ve lost my mind.

“You saw the video, Layla. There’s no other way to explain what you saw.”

“I saw a video in which you drugged me and forced me to say things I don’t remember saying.”

I sigh and lean back in the chair. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” I say that, but at this point, I’m not sure it’s something that’s beyond my integrity. I’m not sure I even have a shred of integrity left, to be honest.

“If you let me go, I won’t tell anyone,” she says. “I promise. I won’t go to the police. I just want to leave. I won’t even use the car, I’ll walk.”

“I’m not going to keep you tied up forever. As soon as the man gets here and does what he needs to do, I’ll let you go.”

Her face hardens, and she looks away from me.

A light shines across the wall, pulling both of our attentions toward the bedroom window. The curtain is closed, so I walk to the window and push it aside.

There’s a man climbing out of a white pickup truck. He’s a large man . . . tall, not wide, with a bushy beard. There’s a hat on his head—some sort of cap that seems to match the logo on his work truck. He tosses the cap into the pickup before running a hand through his hair and looking up at the house. He sees me in the window.

He nods once, then starts heading for the front door.

“Help!” Layla’s voice is desperate and loud. So loud.

“Please be quiet.” I rush over to the bed and cover her mouth with my hand. “The quieter you are, the faster he can help. I need you to promise me you’ll be quiet.”

She’s still screaming against my hand. I look around the room for the tape I brought up with the rope yesterday. I didn’t want to do this, but I’m going to have to. I can’t have a conversation with this man downstairs while Layla is screaming her head off upstairs. I tear off two pieces of tape and cover her mouth with both pieces.

I hold her face gently in my hands. “I am so sorry, Layla.” I kiss her on her forehead and then leave the room.

The doorbell rings just as I reach the bottom of the stairwell.

I open the door, not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this guy. He’s in his late thirties, early forties. He’s wearing a Jiffy Lube shirt, and he smells like motor oil.

“Sorry about the smell,” he says, waving at himself. “It’s the only body I could find when I got into town.”

It’s the only . . . what?

He pushes the door open and squeezes between me and the door. He chuckles at the expression on my face. “You thought I was like you?” He looks around the foyer and into the Grand Room. “Nice place. I can see the appeal.”

I close the door and lock it. “You’re like Willow?”

The man turns to me and nods, but then his attention is pulled to the top of the stairs. Layla is beating the headboard against the wall. There’s no denying her muffled screams. We can hear them clearly, even from down here. “Who is that?”

“My girlfriend. Layla.”

“Why is she making all that noise?”

“I had to tie her to the bed.”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Is she gonna be an issue?”

I shake my head. “No. She’s just upset with me, but I don’t need you to help with her. I need you to help with Willow.”

“Where is Willow?”

“She’s here. Layla needs to rest, though. I don’t want to use her yet, so I’ll answer whatever questions I can until you need to ask Willow specific questions.”

The man walks to the kitchen table and sets a briefcase down. He opens it and pulls out a tape recorder.

I wasn’t aware everything I would be telling him would be recorded.

I have my girlfriend tied to a bed upstairs, and the only thing I know about this man is that his username is UncoverInc. Now he’s about to record everything I’m about to admit to?

“How do I know I can trust you?” I ask him, eyeing the recorder.

The man glances up at me. “You don’t have any other choice, do you?”CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I’ve caught him up with everything I can think of, all the way up to the second he sat down at this table. “So . . . that’s where we are,” I say. “What’s your advice? How do we help Sable find closure?”

“You sound so sure that Sable has anything at all to do with this.” The man turns his attention to Willow. “Have you ever taken over Leeds?”