Page 25 of Painter's Obsession

I pause mid-step and glance over my shoulder. She’s watching me, her expression a strange mix of worry and frustration as she takes a long drag from her cigarette.

The question slips out before I can stop myself. “Since when do you smoke?”

Sandra shrugs, blowing the smoke out in a slow stream. “Since life happened.”

She straightens, her sharp eyes locking onto mine. “But back to what matters—“ Her voice tightens, like she’s holding something back. “You really think Theresa’s in trouble, don’t you?”

I nod once, taking another drag as I fully face her. “Yeah, I do. She’s a good girl. She wouldn’t just disappear—skip work, not show up at home. It’s not like her.”

Sandra exhales sharply through her nose, her shoulders tensing. “I think the same thing. Something’s wrong. The women—“ She stops, cutting herself off.

I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not safe for you to be out here.”

She scoffs and gestures toward the security camera above the door. “That camera hasn’t worked in ages,” I say to which she replies with a shrug, then flicks her cigarette to the ground and crushes it under her Vans.

“I know that,” she replies. “But someone from out of town doesn’t.” Sandra crosses her arms, tilting her head as she studies me. “So what’s your plan then?”

I glance around the empty parking lot, making sure we’re still alone. “I don’t have one yet. Let me ask you something—what do you think of that guy who comes in here? The suit?”

Her brow furrows, and she bites her lip in thought. “I don’t know. He didn’t talk much. Always ordered the same thing…black coffee, three sugars, and two sunny-side-up eggs with toast. Seemed polite, too polite if you ask me.”

She shrugs again, her arms tightening around herself. “Like he was trying too hard, you know? It felt...off.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Too nice?”

Sandra’s eyes widen briefly before she chuckles, her hands gesturing as she speaks. “You know... too nice to be real. Like it’s all an act. But he’s a lawyer, so I guess it comes with the profession.”

I take a long drag from my cigarette. “He’s with Gab.”

“Your sister?”

I nod.

She pauses, her brows knitting in thought before placing a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t think he’s the guy. He’s done a lot of good for kids in trouble with the law. Maybe Gabriela got lucky. Don’t ruin this for her.”

Sandra steps past me, walking back into the diner. I watch her disappear through the door before turning and heading toward my truck.

The drive back to the trailer is quiet. Too quiet. When I get home, it’s quieter still. Gabriela isn’t here, or maybe she’s asleep—but that’s unlike her. It’s only 9 p.m. I pull out my phone to call her, but before I can dial, headlights flood the road, and I watch as an all-black Mercedes pulls into the spot beside me.

Gabriela steps out first. I follow her lead, storming toward her as Prince Charming steps out behind her.

“Why is he here?” I snap.

Gabriela steps between us, her hand pressing against my chest. “He’s with me. Get over yourself,” she snaps back, her tone sharp.

“Theresa is missing. You know that,” I say, watching her expression shift. She looks upset but not surprised, which tells me she’s already heard the rumors floating around town.

“What the fuck does that have to do with Ren?” she retorts.

I glance at him—this smug asshole who looks like he’s trying not to laugh. Instead, he turns his attention to the empty road while I square off with my sister.

“How well do you know him, Gab?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm.

“Well enough,” she fires back, her voice strained with frustration. “What has gotten into you?”

Her hands drop from my chest as she takes a step back, reaching for his hand.

Ren finally speaks, his voice smooth but calculated. “I can assure you, I have nothing but—“

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