“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the Red Ribbon Strangler is hella big news all on his own. You’re the only one that we know of who ever made the connection between him and Veronica Romero. So don’t use it. Write his story and leave her out of it completely.”
It’s a reasonable suggestion, one that might just work. Except…there is no story without Liam Brogan’s origins. Without his trigger. Otherwise, it’s just another half-assed slasher book and I don’t write those. I have no desire to write them.
Mitch has known me long enough to take my silence for what it is—tacit disagreement. But he also knows me well enough not to push any more than he already has. At least not right now.
“Okay, look. Take a couple of days and think about this.”
“I don’t need to think about it—”
“Yeah, well, I disagree,” he shoots back. “And since I’m the one who has to go to the publisher with this disaster, we’re doing it my way. You think about it for a couple of days—think about how you can do the book without so much as alluding to Veronica. If you haven’t figured something out by the end of the week, then I’ll put the ball in motion to try to get you out of this contract. Okay?”
It’s not okay. It’s a perfectly reasonable request made by a perfectly reasonable man, and still it isn’t okay. Still I want to definitively end it here, now, so that it’s over. So that I don’t have to feel guilty any longer for the fact that Veronica doesn’t know what my real agenda was.
But I owe it to Mitch—and my publisher—to at least think about his suggestions. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I can come up with some way to tell the story that still works. I don’t think so, considering how important Veronica is to the story. But maybe. Maybe. And considering I’m pretty sure Mitch isn’t going to do anything until I agree to these terms, I decide what the hell.
“Okay, fine. I’ll think about it. See what I can come up with. But if I call you in a couple days and I don’t have anything, then you’re going to go with me on this. No more arguing. All right?”
“No, it’s really not all right. But since it’s the best I’m going to get out of you…then yes. Fine. We’ll go with that.”
“Okay. Good.”
I can all but see Mitch’s hair standing on end. It’s a habit of his when he’s stressed, shoving his hands through his hair and pulling as hard as he can until the stuff is sticking straight up. I feel bad about stressing him out, but nowhere near as bad as I’d feel if I hurt Veronica.
There’s nothing else to say, so I hang up with him a couple minutes later after promising once again to call after giving the book some more thought. It’s a compromise neither one of us is happy with, but considering where we’re both coming from, I figure that’s to be expected.
After hanging up, I check my messages yet again. Still nothing from her. The anxiety in the pit of my stomach grows until I’m nearly sick with it. Where is she? What is she doing? Is she okay?
I fire off a third text to Veronica, wait impatiently for her to answer. When ten minutes have gone by and there’s no reply, I decide fuck it. Just fuck it. I’m done with waiting. It’s time to find her.
It’s time to make her understand that no matter what she thinks, she’s not alone in this.
Not anymore.
Not ever again.
Chapter 30
My phone is buzzing insistently from its spot on my nightstand and I reach out a hand to slap at it. I’m so tired, so, so tired, and all I want to do is lie here and sleep for a thousand years. Maybe longer if I can get away with it.
I’m smart enough to know that it’s part exhaustion, part depression. I’m still half-asleep, but already my mother’s words are chasing themselves around in my head, circling over and over and over again.
I spilled my guts to Ian last night, told him things I’d never told anyone. And he’d let me, had held me and looked shocked and angry and horrified when all along, he’d known. All along he’d been getting close to me because he wanted my story for his book.
His book.
God, just the thought makes me nauseous. Makes my head spin and my stomach cramp and my whole body feel like it’s on ice.
How could I have been so stupid?
More, how could I have made such a rookie mistake?
It’s not like I didn’t know who he was, not like I didn’t know that he wanted my story. I was just too much of an idiot to know which story he was after…