I drew the blinds on the windows and sat back down in the chair. Someone was out there. Was it Roland? Was he watching me now? He had to have been on to me after the situation with Kell. I needed to talk to him about it in full, yes, but at the moment, my heart was racing way too fast and my hands were shaking. What if I did bring it up and he killed me too?
I picked up my phone and sent Kell a text message.
Check in with me every hour, okay?
Kell responded right away: What’s going on? Do I need to call the cops? You trapped?
No. Just a little anxious right now.
Should I fly back out? I can, just say the word.
No. it’s okay, Kell. I’m okay. Just check in with me. I’ll be okay.
Fuck. Okay, Mira. But I swear if I don’t hear from you every hour I’m calling the police and then flying out there to finish beating his ass.
I huffed a laugh and turned my phone face down.
* * *
I fell asleep in the shed. When I woke up, the sun had risen, golden rays peeking through the gaps of the white blinds. I checked my phone and there were text messages from Kell. He was worried because I hadn’t responded overnight.
I sent him a text back and told him I was fine, then I stood and made my way to the door to crack it open. The coast was clear, so I hurried out, shutting the door behind me and marching across the lawn to get to the back door of the mansion. Once inside, I checked mine and Roland’s bedroom and then the room he had been sleeping in, but he wasn’t in either of them. I trotted down the stairs to check the garage, and his SUV was gone. He wasn’t home. So who did I hear the night before?
I rushed through the hallways, passing the portraits on the wall and the elongated windows until I was in front of Roland’s office door. I pressed the pads of my fingers against the wood and looked inside. Vacant. I had to do this now if I planned on not getting caught.
I’d noticed before, when we first moved in, that there was a book of contacts on his desk. I found it in the top drawer and placed it on top of the desk with shaky breaths. And when I opened it, I went to the letter F. Felipe’s name was second on the list. His number was written on the line below his name.
Maybe he had something to do with Melanie going over that cliff. If they were as close as she said they were toward the end, and were sleeping around unbeknownst to Roland, he had to know something.
I typed the number into the keypad of my phone and my thumb hovered over the button. I looked up at the window, and was certain it was my hysteria and lack of sleep getting to me, but she was out there, standing in middle of the yard. Melanie. The blood was dripping from her head much faster now, soiling her entire outfit and scarf. Her face warped, like she was in so much pain.
I pressed the call button, then paced the office with the phone pressed to my ear, ignoring the window.
“’Ello?” Felipe answered. His accent was familiar, and I was relieved that it was actually him.
“Hi—Felipe? This is Samira.”
“Oh, Samira! Hi! What is going on? I am surprised to be getting a call from you.”
“Yeah, well, I have a few questions for you.” There was no point in stalling. Melanie was still outside the window, in the yard. She was stepping closer to the house. My hands trembled. So much for ignoring her.
“Okay? What’s up?”
“I’m going to cut straight to the point. I know about your night with Melanie—the night before she and Roland got married.”
The line was quiet, and for a moment I thought he’d hung up. Then he said. “Did he tell you about this? He had me sign a nondisclosure that night. I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about it ever again?”
“So he did have you sign one?” She wasn’t lying about that.
“Yes. We’d been drinking the night before his wedding and it came up in conversation and I told him I wouldn’t be opposed to helping him out. He’d already had the contract printed—like he had been thinking about it way before that night. I don’t know. He did say he knew it was a mistake going in, but that he thought it would make her happy, show her that he cared about her needs.”
I swallowed hard and glanced at the window again. Melanie was getting closer. I turned away from the window.
“Okay . . . well, I need you to talk to me about your relationship with her. I found these journals she used to write in. She talks a lot about her affair with you around the time she died.”