Page 25 of The Familiar Stranger

And it made me question my own journey.

As the tires chewed up the miles and the natural splendor of North Georgia swept past my window, I allowed a cold reality to set in.

The list of recent victims who were known to me: Grady, Kim, Iggy, Harmony, and who knew who else? Were their tragedies all related somehow—because of me? Some but not others? I might even add Kat to the mix, except in her situation, she hadn’t been the intended target.

The trajectory of the attacks: Savannah, New Orleans, the North Carolina mountains ... and now a plea that I return to Savannah. Was someone leading me their way, littering the path with death and injury so I’d follow?

Because … of course I would.

My history as a private investigator looped around and hit me square in the face. I now saw myself as the ultimate target, and everyone who knew me, even remotely, could be in danger.

CHAPTER19

THE VILLAIN TIGHTENS THE NET

I just knew Sloane couldn’t resist the lure of seeking me out. She’ll do anything to solve a case, no matter who she hurts in the process. What a clueless bore! Doesn’t she realize the tentacles of wrongdoing spread wide and deep? She can’t win them all, no matter how clever she pretends to be.

Perhaps she’s starting to understand just how connected she is to all this tragedy. I wove the perfect trap … or so I’d thought.

Neither Sloane nor her little sidekick were able to figure out the Savannah connection. I’d needed some help there, and I found the perfect stooge in little Andi Leland.

I find myself wanting to stew again to revisit the moment when the flame of hatred first ignited.

When they put my old friend, Hugh Barnes, behind bars down in South Georgia a couple of years ago … well, that was the straw that broke everything. Hadn’t Sloane already done enough damage to my life?

Then Hugh got stabbed while in the slammer, killed by inmates who didn’t take kindly to his penchant for trafficking teenagers.

I just about went delirious with madness when it all went down.

I liked the guy, you know?

Hugh and I had done some business together over the years—most of it illegal, and yes, sometimes related to the selling of little humans.

His death … it felt too close to home.

When he was alive, I’d done the occasional “wet work” for him and a few others across the country. The money I’d earned from those small jobs provided me with an impressive nest egg—known only to myself, of course—allowing me to engage in this little vengeance plan of mine.

Still, I wasn’t pleased when those jobs dwindled to nothing after Hugh’s death. I guess I was too “hot” for comfort. I didn’t blame them; even I worried there might be some fallout coming my way, but it never happened. Other than losing everything that was important to me, of course. Although … those things are not so important now, are they?

What a joy it’s been to take charge of my life at long last instead of wallowing in pity. After months of following her around, searching for patterns, weaknesses, and most of all, formulating the best way to inflict pain. To give it to her good. Just like she did me.

Revenge is like sugar, indeed, especially when it includes stringing someone along, one horrific bump after another, straight to their own demise.

I waited for the perfect storm of events. For the girls’ getaway, for Cade’s getaway—for the universe to flip the switch. I said goodbye to Jackson Hole and jumped straight into Sloane’s personal hell loop.

With glee.

But things—like the notes I’ve written—haven’tunfoldedlike I thought they would. So far, no slow, agonizing burn.

Not the cryptic messages.

Not the risky near-misses while they visited that fancy mountain resort.

Not the dropped postcard.

Not even the obvious fact that Sloane’s associates were going down like dominos.

For a private investigator, she was a disappointment.

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