Page 76 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

“Katrina?” I whisper.

No reply. Not even a sound.

“Katrina?”

I wait until I know she’s out before slowly slipping off the bed. Keeping each step as light as possible, I head toward the stairs. I watch over my shoulder as I make my way down, looking for any sign of movement.

But Katrina’s out cold.

On the first floor, I look around, quickly spotting the item I came all the way down here for. Katrina’s handbag lies on the carpet by the front door, the one likely place it’d be.

I shuffle toward it, keeping one ear sharp on the stairs as I pick it up and open it. Katrina’s phone rests inside next to her wallet and a small bag full of make-up.

I grab the phone, inputting the pin I saw her use over her shoulder earlier tonight at the pizza parlor.

It unlocks. For a moment, I pause, a twist of unease pooling around my gut as I swipe and search for... whatever the hell I’m supposed to be searching for.

Tick tock, Mr. Shock.

I open her emails first. Unsurprisingly, there are just a few sitting in her inbox, flagged for her to respond to later, but it’s otherwise empty. Of course, she’s the type of girl who has her inbox under control, every email worth saving assigned to a folder.

I skim the flagged ones, but there’s nothing incriminating. Nothing that would help Monroe’s mission.

I close the app, flicking over to her photo gallery instead, keeping one ear trained on the stairs. When I’m sure the silence will continue, I swipe through the photos.

She has her share of selfies, but who doesn’t? More than that, it’s photos of her and her bandmates. On the bus. In the hotels. Backstage at venues, some of which I recognize by the horrific wallpaper whose only purpose is to be memorable. Nothing too wild or crazy stands out.

Not even a nude.

Heat blooms on my cheeks with that thought.

Christ, what am I doing?

What other choice do I have?

I hop to her message app next. There are a few threads pinned to the top. Otherwise, it’s a mess of spam and delivery confirmations. One-time login codes to various apps and websites.

I open the top pinned thread, one that appears to be a group chat with her bandmates. A flick and skim for Monroe’s precious dirt, but it’s all mostly just their manager Jordan telling them where to be and when. What to bring. What to wear.

The next pinned thread is between her and Addison.

Addison

Hey, you okay?

Where are you?

What happened with Jo? You looked upset.

Girl?

What happened?

Answer the door, sweetie.

Ok! Getting scared now.

On my way down to the front desk. Ira’s gonna MASTER KEY YOUR PRETTY LITTLE ASS if you don’t reply ASAP!!!!

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