Chapter Ten

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In the brief time Alice had been away, the house had fallen into disorder. As soon as she stepped through the doorway, mail crinkled beneath her feet like dead leaves—advertisements spilling their inner pages, catalogs sliding against each other, envelopes ripped open and gutted. When she stooped to pick it all up, Colton shook his head and kicked enough to the side to clear a space to walk through. He did the same for the clothes scattered on the floor in a path to the bedroom. They looked like the ones he usually wore to work, as if he had let them fall forgotten while stripping down.

"Things got away from me," he admitted, sounding perplexed more than apologetic as they stepped into the bedroom. Muddy pawprints marked the hardwood floor and black fur dusted whatever furniture he had brushed up against.

Alice shook her head, smiling as she sat on the bed. "So, that's your weak spot. Cleaning up after yourself."

Her voice turned it into innuendo even before she reached out and traced the fly of his slacks as he lingered nearby, eyeing every corner of the room as if making sure nothing had changed while they'd been gone. He gave her that hot look that always ignited an ache between her legs, but only caught her hand and squeezed it before pulling away.

He continued to prowl throughout the rooms while she dropped the hospital paperwork onto the nightstand. She also put her purse there and then rummaged through it to find her phone. Her fingers reached the white pharmacy bag Denise had given her on the way out, first, and she pulled it out to check the contents. Nothing there beyond the pain medication prescribed if she started hurting too much, and she set it aside without interest even though she had began to hurt, much more than the night before.

The turtleneck felt uncomfortable against her neck, scratching at the swollen skin until she tugged at it for relief. Each movement, even a single breath, angered her bruises and strained her muscles, and the simple act of taking off her shoes and socks knocked her bones about. Every inch of her body felt rattled and sluggish, as if it had only now absorbed the impact of being thrown through the air and back to the ground with the same force that had crumpled her car around her like tin foil.

Dimly, she remembered the doctor explaining the phenomenon—something about pain receptors remaining dulled for a while after that first shock of the accident. It likely didn't help that she had almost drowned the other night, or that she still felt drained from the conversation with her parents.

Finally, she found her phone and plugged it into the charger before checking to see what she'd missed in the past day. She wasn't surprised to find a few missed calls from Darby, and ignored her texts outright, but did pause at the handful of emails from Rob. She opened the latest one and started reading.

I called the medium to make sure everything's cancelled. Don't believe whatever Darby says. It's cancelled. Here's her number if you want to call for yourself.

She scanned over the number but decided to read the next-newest email to see if it revealed more.

Darby's lying. There aren't any other photos. The ones she sent you through the mail are all she has. Don't send your fucking boyfriend over here again because he already took the ones she's talking about.

I'm still trying to find out who's doing the seance. Just give me a day or two. Halloween isn't for a few weeks, so there's a lot of time to cancel it. Don't fucking send him over.

The first email from him made everything all the more clear, including his very un-Rob-like helpfulness.

After yesterday's visitor, I changed my mind about things. Christ, where did you find him, the fucking mafia? I had to tell Darby there was a robbery while we were both out.

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