Chapter 5

Emily's phone rang then.

He froze. Pulled it out. Looked at the screen.

"Landlord," he muttered.

The phone kept ringing.

He let go of my shirt. Answered it.

"Hello? Yes, this is Emily's phone." His French accent was thicker now. "She's unavailable. What? The rent is paid. Check your account."

He listened for another second, then hung up.

Chloe still had my arms. But her grip had loosened slightly.

"Let her go," Damien said.

She released me. I pulled my shirt down, breathing hard.

"You're staying here tonight," Damien said.

"What? No, I need to go home—"

"Your home isn't safe." He was already walking to the door. "Whoever killed Marcus might look for you there."

"How long do I have to stay?"

"Until we find what we need." He signed something to Chloe. She positioned herself by the door.

"Get some rest," he said. "It's going to be a long night."

The door was left open and they thought I was blind and let their guard down.

Through the crack under the door, I could see Chloe's shadow. She was standing guard.

I sat on the massage table, trying to slow my breathing.

I had to get out. Tonight.

Outside, the music was getting louder. Bass thumping through the walls. Mardi Gras was in full swing.

And I was trapped in here with two killers.

Suddenly, Damien's phone rang.

"—should have found it by now." A woman's voice. Raspy. Coming from a phone on speaker.

I stayed still on the massage table, listening.

"We searched the apartment," Damien said. "Every corner. It's not there."

"Then it's on Emily ." The woman had a thick Creole accent.

"We checked her."

"Not well enough." Papers rustling on the other end. "Tonight is the full moon. We don't have time for your excuses."

Through my eyelashes, I could see Damien and Chloe in the reception area. Chloe was signing fast, aggressive gestures.

"The girl thinks we should walk away," Damien said into the phone.

"Walking away means you don't get paid." The woman's voice went cold. "Bring Emily to me. If she won't cooperate, bring her sister. We'll get the gris-gris one way or another."

The call ended.

Damien and Chloe started signing to each other. Their hands moved too fast for me to catch much. But I saw one word clearly: "bayou."

They were planning to take me somewhere.

My heart rate spiked. If they moved me to a second location, I was dead. No witnesses. No cameras. No chance.

I had to get out. Now.

But how? The door was locked. The window had bars. And Chloe was standing right there.

Think, Sarah. Think.

I heard footsteps approaching the massage room. I quickly closed my eyes, tried to slow my breathing. Pretended to sleep.

The door unlocked. Opened.

Two sets of footsteps entered.

Someone touched my shoulder.

I jerked awake, sitting up confused. "What? What's happening?"

"We're moving you," Damien said from my left.

I turned my head slightly right, away from his voice. "Where are you?"

"Here." He touched my arm.

I turned toward him this time. "Moving me where?"

"Somewhere safer."

"I don't—"

Chloe grabbed my elbow. Her grip was iron-tight. She pulled me to my feet.

"My cane," I said.

She shoved it into my hand.

They led me out to the reception area. In my peripheral vision, I could see Damien packing things into a bag. Candles. Small cloth pouches tied with string. And a knife with a curved blade.

A knife.

Oh God.

We moved toward the front door. This was it. Once we left this building, no one would find me.

I had to do something.

As we reached the threshold, I "accidentally" caught my cane on the doorframe. Stumbled forward. The cane clattered to the floor.

"Careful!" Damien caught my arm.

As he steadied me, I looked up. Our eyes met.

Direct eye contact.

For one full second.

Then I quickly looked away, unfocused my eyes. "Sorry, sorry. Where's my cane?"

"Right here." His voice was quiet. Dangerous.

Chloe picked up the cane, handed it to me.

But Damien hadn't moved. His hand was still on my arm, gripping tight.

"You looked at me," he said.

"I didn't—I was just trying to—"

"Your eyes focused. Directly on my face."

My mouth went dry. "No, I can see shadows sometimes. Movement. That's all—"

"Shadows." He didn't sound convinced.

"Light and dark. I can't see details or faces or—"

He suddenly shoved me backward.

Hard.

I stumbled but caught myself. Stayed upright.

A blind person would have fallen. Completely lost their balance.

Shit.

Damien's expression went ice cold.

"You can see," he said.

"I can't! I swear—"

He signed to Chloe. She pulled a knife from her pocket.

"Wait! Please!" I backed against the wall. "Okay, okay! I can see a little. Just shapes and movement."

It was a desperate lie. Probably wouldn't work. But maybe—

Damien's phone rang again.

He stared at me for another second, then answered. "Yes?"

His expression changed.

"Now?" He looked at Chloe, signed something. "She's outside?"

He walked to the window, peered through the shutters.

Chloe moved to the other window, watching.

Damien grabbed my arm, pulled me close. Put the knife against my side.

"Not a sound," he whispered.

I nodded, terrified.

"Good." He positioned me in front of him, knife pressed to my back. "Now we wait."

I could hear footsteps outside. Coming up the stairs.

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

A key turned in the lock.

The door started to open.

The lights went out.