Page 27 of Faded Rhythm

“Somebody might call you,” I say slowly. “And they might tell you I’m dead. Don’t believe it.”

Her eyes flood. “What the fuck, Sable?”

I shake my head. “Trust me, okay? I’m fine. I’m gonna be fine. But this is serious. Do not tell Brett anything. In fact, don’t answer his calls and don’t open the door if he comes by.”

She’s shaking her head as tears spill over her cheeks. “This is insane. You’re really not gonna tell me?”

“Just…take care of my babies. I’ll be back for them soon. I promise.”

She seems to understand. She pulls me into a tight hug, her tears wetting my shoulder. I hold on just for a second, then break away before I break down.

When I slide back into my seat, King glances over at me, his face blank, as always.

“You good?”

“No,” I say with a hoarse voice. “But thanks for asking.”

He nods. “You hungry?”

“I don’t eat when I’m nervous.”

He quirks a brow. “Is that how you stay so…” he trails off, but it’s too late.

“So what?” I snap, annoyed.

He doesn’t answer. He just pulls out of the driveway.

I bite the inside of my cheek, telling myself not to care. But I do. I care too much already.

Ten minutes later, we pull into a hotel parking lot. King pulls out his phone, dials a number, then puts the call on speaker.

The man who answers has a voice like steel. It’s cold and controlled, much like King’s voice when we first met.

I just realized he doesn’t sound as much like that today.

The man dials another number and I hear my husband’s weaselly voice.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mr. Brett Graves?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Mr. Graves, this is deputy Marshall Bernard with the Hillside County police department. Are you somewhere private?”

“I’m in my hotel room in Chattanooga,” Brett announces.

“Well, sir, I’m very sorry to inform you that your wife has been found deceased.”

I close my eyes, bracing myself.

Brett doesn’t even pause to let the news sink in. He launches into gasping sobs, moaning like he’s auditioning for a soap opera.

“My God…nooooo! How could this happen? What am I supposed to tell my daughters?” he wails. “My wife! My beautiful wife!”

I open my eyes and roll them. The back of my tongue tastes bitter.

This man never calls me beautiful unless there’s somebody else around to hear it.

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