Page 7 of Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

“Like I’m a prisoner in my own head.”

She wrapped an arm around my back and leaned her head against mine, cheek to cheek. “I wish I could take some of this from you.”

Lots of people said things like that just because it sounded good, but Belinda actually meant it. If she could, she would likely take it all.

I turned to face her, our noses inches apart.

“Why do you like me?” I asked, realizing there were two of her this close.

She leaned back, and when she spoke, there was only one of her saying, “How on earth can you ask me that?”

“You’re so nice and I’m a bitch, not to mention, I’m a mess.”

“We’re all messes, Magnolia. I’m not sure if you noticed, but life is messy.”

My eyes welled with tears.

“So now that we’ve got that nonsense cleared up, why are youreallyhere?”

I shook my head and took a long pull from my drink. If only I could tell her. If only I understood. All I knew was that I was desperately unhappy, and I had no idea how to fix it.

I took a deep breath and told her what I knew to be true. “Tripp Tucker might be dead, but he’s haunting every minute of my life. And now those stupid podcasters are stalking me.”

“Owen might have some ideas about how to handle them,” Belinda said.

My brows shot up. “Owen Frasier?”

“That’s the one.”

Owen Frasier had been a detective with the Franklin Police Department, but he’d quit during the serial killer mess. I knew he had formed his own security company. Belinda had moved into his apartment complex after she’d left my brother, but I hadn’t realized they were friendly. “Are you two seeing each other?”

Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “Only casually.”

“Define casually,” I said, eager to latch on to any topic other than my pathetic life. Plus, this was the first time Belinda had gone out with someone since kicking my brother to the curb.

She shrugged, her blush spreading. “He’s a really nice guy.”

Owen and I hadn’t hit it off at first. I’d suspected him of something unsavory, and God knew he’d thought the same of me. Ultimately, we’d worked together to unmask the serial killer, but we’d had our own agendas. I’d wanted to save myself, and Owen had wanted to clear the name and reputation of his uncle, who’d been vilified for his “mishandling” of my father’s disappearance. Of course, we’d both also wanted to stop Tripp from killing again. He’d kept secrets, but so had I. I didn’t hold a grudge against him, but I knew Colt did.

“You didn’t tell me because of Colt,” I said.

“It’s a little awkward,” she admitted. “I wanted to wait and see before I told you.”

“So I guess the fact that you’re telling me now means things are going well?” Warmth spread through me as I took in her smile, her happy eyes.

“Yeah.”

“You deserve love, Belinda,” I said. “You deserve someone who’s amazing to you.”

She glanced down. “Thanks. It’s not love, but we’re having fun for now.”

“And is he amazing to you?”

She was practically glowing with happiness. “Yeah.”

My brother had been emotionally and physically abusive. Part of me had worried she might end up in another unhealthy relationship after leaving him—people had their patterns, after all—but Owen didn’t strike me as an abuser. Of course, I’m sure scores of people would say the same thing about my brother.

She turned serious. “Magnolia, I’m sure Owen can help with the podcast people.”

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