Page 59 of Circle of Strangers
I scrape the last bit of pasta from the plates into the trash the next evening, the sound of silverware clinking against porcelain filling the quiet kitchen. I didn’t walk with Sozi today. I couldn’t. Not after everything I found last night—her estranged family, the gray area about Austin and Ezra. And to top it off, she still hasn’t sent me a single picture of that so-called son of hers.
It shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, especially when I have bigger fish to fry. I suppose my therapist would tell me Sozi is “triggering.” The lies and manipulation, the lengths she went to to craft this facade of a phony life, it all reeks of Lucinda.
The annoyance in my chest tightens as I rinse the plates and load them into the dishwasher. I keep running through it all in my head: the fake husband, the invisible child, the way Sozi has casually yet persistently concerned herself with my marriage while using Mara to divert suspicions.
It’s crystal clear . . . now.
When the last dish is in, I wipe down the counter and sweep my hair out of my face, trying to shake off the agitation that clings to me like a second skin these days. Tying up the half-full kitchen trash, I haul it to the bin by the garage to get some fresh air.
That’s when I see it.
An empty bottle of Mara’s favorite rosé sitting at the top of the trash bin.
I didn’t open any wine tonight—or last night, for that matter.
I push aside a crumpled paper towel and find something else: a torn-up thank-you note scattered among various food wrappers and trash bags. My heart skips as I pluck the pieces out, assembling them carefully on the pavement.
Will—
Thank you so much. You always know exactly what I need.
—M
I stand there for a moment, staring at the bottle and the note, my icy pulse quickening with every shallow breath. This whole thing reeks of Sozi, but I’ve got the overwhelming urge to confront Will anyway—to test his reaction.
I grab everything and march back inside, where Will is sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone.
“Hey.” My voice is sharp, cutting through the quiet hum of the TV. I hold up the note and the bottle. “Care to explain this?”
Will looks up, confused. “What is that?”
“I found it in the trash. An empty bottle of Mara’s favorite wine and a thank-you note. FromM.” I narrow my eyes, searching his face for any flicker of guilt or recognition.
He stares at it for a moment, then slowly shakes his head. “It was sitting by my car when I went to leave for work this morning.”
I blink, not buying it. Someone clearly planted this. Whether it was Will, Mara, or Sozi remains to be determined.
“It was just ... there,” he says, his voice low, calm but edged with discomfort. “The bottle and the note. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I dumped it out in the yard, ripped up the note, and tossed it all.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” I ask. “You just threw it away like it was nothing?”
Will scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m just as freaked out as you are. I swear I didn’t know what to do with it. I was in a hurry, running late for work. I completely forgot about it until now.”
I press my lips into a thin line, trying to control the rage simmering just beneath the surface. “Did you check the cameras?”
Will nods.
“I already looked.” He pulls out his phone, taps the screen, and hands it to me. “All we got is this.”
I press play on the footage. At 3:04 AM, a shadowy figure appears at the edge of the frame, their features impossible to make out. Their frame is on the petite side—similar to both Sozi and Mara. They’re dressed entirely in black, moving quietly and deliberately as they set something down by the garage door. The figure glances around, their face hidden beneath a hood, and then slips out of view.
There’s no way to tell where they came from—or where they went.
“Told you our cameras have been acting up lately. The security company said the soonest they could send someone out is next Friday,” he says.
I hand the phone back to Will, my pulse hammering in my ears. “That doesn’t tell us much.”
Only that it was a setup.
