Page 47

I count to ten. Then count again. However, my temper only climbs higher.

When I catch sight of my waiting laptop, a slow smile spreads across my face. Looks like my main character just found her first victim. I crack my knuckles, slip on my headphones, and get to work.

The first rays of morning hit my face like an unwanted wake-up call. My body and mind, however, are in complete agreement that the sun could fuck right off and let me sleep a little longer.

Unfortunately for me, someone begins knocking on my door just as I was about to settle in for another nap.

“Jesus Christ. I was never this popular in high school. How does all of Fairhope know my room number all of a sudden?” I grumble, wiping the bit of drool from the corner of my mouth.

That’s when I spot my discarded laptop just inches from my face, carefully tucked between two pillows.

I quickly flip it open and see three new chapters. A quick skim tells me that everything I wrote last night, well into the early hours of the morning, isn’t half bad. Actually, it’s pretty damn spectacular.

I flop back onto the bed, hugging the laptop to my chest, my smile stretching from ear to ear.

It’s over. My writer’s block is over! Oh, my God!

I start laughing like a complete maniac, tears streaming down my cheeks from the sheer relief washing over me.

Everyone was right, apparently. All I had to do was come back to Fairhope and face my demons for my writer’s block to disappear.

“Holy shit!” I shout in utter glee, just as another knock echoes through my room.

In my excitement, I completely forgot someone was out there.

“Just a second,” I call, placing my laptop on the desk before slipping into my robe.

My relief is immediate when I find a scowling Sienna instead of that bitch Jordan from last night.

“Please don’t tell me it’s time for brunch. I haven’t even properly woken up yet,” I joke.

I’m not surprised to see Sienna not mimicking my smile. She’s not the smiley type. However, something about her seems off. Usually, she’s difficult to read, but this morning, she’s damn well impossible.

“Were you in your room all night?” she asks, while briefly scanning the room behind me.

“Where else would I be?” I ask in confusion, opening the door wider so she can get a good look inside. It’s not like I have anything to hide.

“Did you hear anything last night?”

“Like what?” My brow furrows.

“A noise. Shouting maybe. Anything?” I shake my head.

“I had my headphones on for most of the night. I do that when I’m writing.”

“So you were writing all night?” Her attention flicks to the laptop sitting on my desk.

“Yes, Sienna.” I let out a nervous laugh. “What’s with the twenty questions all of a sudden? You’re kind of creeping me out.”

She lets out a slow breath. “Then what I’m about to tell you isn’t going to make you feel any better.” A knot forms in my stomach.

Sienna holds my gaze for what feels like forever before finally saying the words that are about to add yet another twist to this clusterfuck of a week.

“Jordan Richfield is dead.”

Chapter 8

Fairhope, January 13th, 2013