Page 147 of On a Fault Line

I laugh so hard some of my stomach acid rises in my throat. I look around for something to drown out the bitter taste and only see more collagen shots all over the countertop.

Ugh. I need an escape plan.

“I have yet to experience a night out with you ladies,” I say, trying to distract myself from the burning in my throat.

“Well, you are in luck, Penny,” Claire says, practically hopping on her feet. “I made you a survival kit for this momentous occasion.”

I watch as she steps up on her tiptoes to pull down a bin in her cupboard labeled “How To Survive Girls’ Night.”

“So the goal is to live to tell about it the next day?” I ask, just looking for clarification.

Angie laughs. “I may need that kit too since I’ll be drinking for all of your personalities,” Angie says, earning herself a friendly slap on the arm from Claire.

“Angry Claire likes tequila. Sad Claire likes vodka. And Bitchy Claire loves Prosecco.”

Taking the lid off the box, I explore the contents. Bottled water, headache medicine, Band-Aids, mini purse with cash, ear plugs, mints, and a granola bar take up the majority of the space inside. Holding up the pair of high heels, I dangle them from my fingers. “Why these?”

“For catching a ride home at the end of the night. It makes the process so much faster if you have those on.”

“Yeah, but we have one major problem with all of this,” Angie chimes in.

“What?” Claire asks.

“You know those men having a mysterious meeting in Nic’s office? Well, they will never allow any of us to take a random ride home with anyone but one of them.”

“That’s for sure,” I confirm. “I’ll be surprised if they even allow us to go out.”

“Oh, they better,” Claire says. “We just need to convince them that it was their idea.”

28

COLLINS

“He’s threatening her from the inside out,” Nic says, slamming his fist down on his desk. He scans through the mail that Graham confiscated from Penny’s place. Holding the bubble envelope in his hand, he reads aloud the prison address.

“And he’s been sending her shit like this for weeks?” I ask for clarification.

Graham nods. “Yes, apparently. One, two, three…”

How were we all not made privy to these mysterious deliveries?

Nic stands up and tosses the envelope onto the surface of his desk, nearly jostling the framed picture of one of Claire’s ultrasounds. “We need to get this handwriting analyzed.”

“On it,” I say, scrolling through my phone contacts until I find the one I’m looking for. I take a picture of the prison address and send it off.

Graham clears his throat. “There is zero reason to even write on the envelope. And yet the sender chose to print it by hand.”

I rub at the back of my neck. “To make this threat more personal.”

“Exactly,” Nic responds. “He’s tormenting her, and I want to rip out his heart and feed it to him.”

“His death is going to happen with the same emotion and effort as he has put forth haunting our baby sister. This has always been personal,” Graham says with a growl. “And I’m fucking over these games.”

Nic paces his new home office space. “Penny’s terrified. I could tell as soon as she arrived here.”

He’s right. I sense it too, despite her valiant effort at trying to keep calm and distracted. I’m sure my overprotectiveness isn’t easing her mind either. If anything, it’s making her more vulnerable.

“I’ve increased security on her,” I offer. “And now knowing this development, I’m glad I preemptively upped it.”

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