Page 60 of The Girl and the Lies

She shrugs. “It’s all rumors. But I’ve heard there’s a story behind them leaving the company.”

I get a call from Detective Fuller as I’m driving away from the coffee shop asking me to come into the station, so I turn in that direction. As I’m driving, I call Carla.

“I just spoke with Gloria Pryor,” I tell her. “I didn’t tell her that you were the one who reported her to Tracy, but she made the assumption herself. Then she said she thought it was interesting that you would make a report like that when there was something going on in your marriage.”

“She said what?” Carla asks, sounding stunned.

“Apparently, there were rumors of a story behind why the two of you were leaving the ministry,” I tell her.

“I told you why we decided to leave,” she says. “We are moving and starting a new chapter in our lives. There’s no more story to it than that. It sounds like she’s just angry with me for talking about her to Tracy. She wants to make Marshall and me look bad.”

I pull into the police station parking lot and end the call, a prickling feeling along the back of my neck as something inside tells me that I’m starting to unravel a little more. I know I have to move faster. The looming weight of something else possibly happening is pressing down on me, reminding me with every passing hour that there are several other people who have received threats. The same horrific scene could play out again if I don’t find the person responsible and stop them.

As soon as I walk into the station and find Detective Fuller in the investigation room, I find out I was almost too late.

“A woman named Mila Taylor called dispatch about ten minutes ago reporting that someone broke into her house. She said it needed to be brought to your attention.”

“Mila Taylor is one of the employees of the ministry that received threatening notes,” I say. “I talked to her right after Gideon was murdered. Is she all right? Was she attacked?”

My heart is racing in my chest as I think of another person falling victim to an assailant who is getting bolder and leaving less time in between his strikes.

“No, she wasn’t home when it happened. Do you want her address?”

“Yes.”

I’m out the door in seconds, already driving as I program my GPS. The directions bring me to a small apartment complex not too far from the ministry headquarters. I see two police cars parked near the apartment number Fuller gave me, and I jog up to the door. I knock, and Officer Massengill answers.

“Agent Griffin,” he says. “I thought I might see you here.”

“Where is Mila?” I ask.

He lets me into the apartment, and I immediately see the stark block letters across the living room wall.

You won’t be spared again

A frightened-looking woman is sitting on the beige corduroy couch, hunched over so her stomach is pressed to her knees and her arms are wrapped around herself defensively. Officer Trammel is sitting beside her with a notepad. They both look up when I approach.

“I’m Agent Griffin,” I tell her. “We spoke on the phone.”

“They came for me,” she says.

“Tell me what happened,” I say.

“I took the day off work because I wasn’t feeling well this morning. But then I started feeling better, so when my sister called wanting me to go shopping with her, I decided to go. She picked me up. I was gone for less than three hours, and when I got back, my door had been pried open, and I saw that written on the wall,” she says.

“Who knew that you were supposed to be home today?” I ask.

“Anyone who looked at my social media,” Mila says. “I posted there this morning. Someone saw it and thought I was going to be here. They probably even saw my car in the parking lot.” She lets out a shuddering breath. “I could have been killed.”

“Is there anywhere you can stay for a few days?” I ask.

She nods. “I’ve already called my sister. I’m going to stay with her.”

“Good,” I say. “While the officers are still here, I’m going to go talk to your neighbors, but then I’ll stay with you until your sister comes.”

“Thank you.”

I leave the apartment and cross the breezeway. No one answers the door, and I move on to the one beside it. Again there is no answer. I’m about to walk away from the final door when a man comes up the steps and gives me a questioning look.

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