She Was Sitting In My Front-Row Seat Holding My Novel — Smiling Like She Had Stolen My Life

tightened around the phone until the case creaked.

Mara watched me carefully.

“Evelyn.”

I looked up.

“We need to go to Orchard House before Graham does.”

We left before dawn.

The city outside the Rutherford Hotel looked scrubbed and hard.

Streetlights streaked across the car windows.

Anna met us at Orchard House at seven-thirty with her daughter asleep against continue reading …