I could borrow another two, maybe two and a half from my connections, but I can’t pull together five hundred in a week.” I squeeze my arms tighter around myself, and Magnolia returns a few moments later. I can’t stop picturing a woman dancing on shattered glass until the pain was so horrendous she slit her wrists. He wanted to use the distillery as collateral for a half-million-dollar debt to a man scarier than any villain Hollywood has yet to create. He was too busy fucking someone else to want to go another round with me. All of a sudden, his reduced interest in sex with me became utterly apparent. We were going to be an unstoppable team, and that thrilled me. I thought he’d been so interested in the distillery because it was my passion, and after we got married, he wanted to be part of running it. I was the one who brought up eloping, and he said it was the most romantic idea he’d ever heard. It was effortless, the way I thought real love should be. How could I have been so stupid? We’d met online, my first foray into the world of Internet dating. Or, prepare to die a horrendous death, knowing my friends and family are going to die too. Prostitute myself out to a man who has either killed or ordered people killed, and everyone he sleeps with disappears afterward. Magically come up with five hundred thousand dollars. She leaves me on the couch as she walks out of the room, and I draw my knees up to my chest and contemplate my options. She steps away, crossing to the counter to grab her cell. “God only knows.” Her reply doesn’t make me feel any better about the situation. “Why deviate from his pattern now? Why me?” My words come out sounding just as frenzied as my brain. “After that mess with Richelle, he hasn’t been with any local girls.” Magnolia eyes me carefully, as if studying my every feature for the very first time.
No matter which way I look at the situation, the only ending that seems to be consistent is me dying. As far as I know, the police consider her disappearance a cold case. I think of Richelle LaFleur, the girl we knew from church that no one has seen or heard from again and was rumored to have been one of his mistresses. He usually orders them from out of the country.” I mean, the man has had plenty of mistresses. “Has he done this before? Is there a playbook for this?”
“I’m thinking.” Magnolia holds up a hand. “What?” I ask, terror running rife at her whispered curse.
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