Page 32 of His Sinner

When my phone buzzes, I expect it to be a dirty text from Saint. But it’s the same unknown number that texted me earlier.

Be sure to pick up more milk on the way home. You’re all out.

What the fuck? Is this psycho in my house right now?

My thumbs fly over the screen.

Who the hell are you?

You know exactly who I am.

I take a screenshot and send it to Mack.

Looks like I have another stalker.

Seconds later, Mack calls me. “What do you mean another stalker?”

I explain to her what happened on the writing retreat while tissue paper crinkles in the background as she packs copies of S.T. Nicholson’s books for giveaways. “And now they’re texting and calling me.” My phone buzzes. “Oh, look, another text.”

“Don’t respond,” Mack warns as my thumbs fly over the screen. “You don’t want to engage with them. They’ll take that as an invitation to keep contacting you.”

“Too bad I’ve already sent off a hearty fuck you.”

Mack sighs, tearing off a strip of tape. “I’m serious, Briar. Don’t engage with them anymore, and keep all of the evidence.”

“From now on, I’ll do my best to refrain.” Whether my best will be enough is another story.

“Why do you think this new person is stalking you?”

I chew on my lip. “I’m not sure. Maybe because of what happened to Austin and Dr. Barrett. Someone thinks I’m responsible. I’ve seen this blonde woman in a BMW a few times. Saint also mentioned he has enemies. Maybe it’s someone from his past retaliating for something.”

Whoever it is, they’re obviously nothing like Saint. They’re not stalking me because they’re obsessed and in love with me—they want to hurt me.

“Saint has enemies?” Mack hisses. “Is he in the mafia?”

“No! Not that I know of, anyway.” I’m sure he would’ve told me if he was. Pretty sure.

“Good,” she says before sighing. “So I guess we have a new stalker to track down.”

The Auburn Institute of Fine Arts is holding a vigil tonight in honor of Dr. Barrett. Mack insisted on coming with us once she learned that Saint and I will be in attendance to survey the crowd for my new stalker. If my stalker is hell-bent on avenging Dr. Barrett, they’ll undoubtedly be at his vigil. If they’re avenging Austin, they’ll be here too. For me.

Mack and Saint have been talking business the entire way here. Giveaways and signings and contracts and emails. All of it effectively shutting me out of the conversation entirely. I can’t help the annoying prickle of jealousy that flares every time Saint says something that makes Mack laugh.

Warmth crawls up to my chest when I spot Officer Rosario and Officer Smith in the corner, monitoring the attendees just as we are. The same way they’d show up to a funeral to watch for the killer. Smith’s gaze narrows on me.

“You should be proud they suspect you,” Saint mutters. “They think you’re capable of carefully and quietly making a grown man disappear.”

“I am capable of that,” I purr. “So watch your back.”

Saint chuckles.

As soon as I spot Dr. Barrett’s wife, Nancy, I take the opportunity to veer away from Saint and Mack. It’s hard to believe I didn’t even know she existed until the night Dr. Barrett died, but now I could pick her face and voice out of a lineup. She’s constantly on the news encouraging people to help look for her missing husband.

Nancy likely isn’t my new stalker, but I can’t rule her out yet. There are plenty of women her age who commit murder and who knows what the police have told her about their suspicions. If they informed her I’m the last known person to have seen her husband, she may have decided to come after me for more information about where he ended up.

Nancy swallows quickly when she notices me approaching over the rim of her mug. By the flush to her cheeks and her dilated pupils, she definitely doesn’t have coffee or tea in that mug. She waves her handkerchief in the air, streaked black with her running mascara.

I hold out my hand. “Hi, I’m Dr. Briar Shea. I worked with your husband.”

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