Page 41 of Little Deaths

“Let me check something.”

Before she could ask what was wrong, he disappeared into the back room. Donni pulled out her phone—still no messages—and scrolled through Instagram, absently liking posts and responding to comments. When Darwin came back, he looked rather annoyed.

“We didn’t sell any boxes but one of themismissing. I’m guessing it was stolen.”

Shit. “How do you know it wasn’t marked out as damaged?”

“If it’s damaged, we void it out and remove it from our inventory, but the box is still in the system. That’s how I know.” His tone softened. “Do you still have the box?”

“What? Oh, yes,” she lied. “But not with me. Actually, my stepson was the one who found it.”

“Well, if you could tell him to bring it in, that would be a big help to us.” Darwin turned away from the monitor. “We’re a small business, you know. We can’t really afford the loss.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“Thanks, Donni.” He sighed and then with an obvious, rousing effort, he affected the same gregarious charm as before. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No.” She was already heading for the door. “Thank you for the help.”

And yet another dead end.

She had been so certain that she would finally get some answers to her questions, but her stalker was clever. Cleverer than her. They seemed to be right behind her and one step ahead, all at the same time, and it left her feeling like she was being squeezed.

They must have been at the funeral, like Rafe had suggested. It wouldn’t have been too hard to wait for one of the O’Donnells to get distracted enough to leave the desk during a service, would it? If only Opal had given her that photographer’s name. Maybe hehadtaken those photos.

But thinking about the photos made her remember what wasinthem, and what she had tried to do to get them back. One minute, she had been thinking that he reminded her of a bull in a pen, all but pawing at the ground with his feverish agitation. The next, she had found herself pressed against him, faced with the realization that his rather severe-looking mouth was much more pliant than she would have guessed.Just one kiss to distract him, she thought.That’s all I need.

He'd seen right through it, of course. The way he always did. She couldn’t believe she’d been that stupid. What thefuckwas the matter with her, provoking him like that? It was like playing grab-ass with a hot stove.

As she was walking the aisles of the grocery store, throwing in whatever despite the pressing issue of her husband’s estate, she found herself becoming more and more upset. Before she could stop to think about what she was doing, she dialed her mother’s number. As soon as it started ringing, she remembered the three-hour time difference. It would already be evening in New York.

Her mother picked up. “Hello, con qu?,” she said. “I was beginning to think you had forgotten about your mother.”

“Hi, Mom. I’m sorry. It’s been rough. Marco died earlier this week.”

Her mother paused. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Are you all right?”

“I’ve just been dealing with so much.” Donni rushed to fill the silence after a surreptitious glance around. “One of my friends was murdered in her own home and now I’m receiving threats in the mail. It’s getting so bad that the police advised me to have someone stay with me, so I wouldn’t be alone.” She swallowed back more words, feeling as if the sentences she had constructed were as fragile as a house of cards. “Also I—well, I just really wanted to hear from you.”

“Who’s staying with you?” her mother wanted to know. “A friend?”

“No. My stepson, Rafael. He’s in town for the funeral. Or, he was. He’s staying with me.”

“The one who did the drugs?”

Donni winced internally. She had forgotten that she’d fed her mother the same lie as Marco. But she would have had to, of course. Her mother couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, and if she had outed her to Marco, there would have been hell to pay.

But she didn’t want to think about Marco right now, either.

“That was a long time ago, Mom,” she said aloud. “He’s changed.”

“People don’t change,” her mother had said, and even though Donni knew her mother had intended it as a warning, it had the ring of condemnation about it.

How true that is, she thought bitterly. Pain lodged in her throat, like a shard she couldn’t choke out.I’m exactly the same as I’ve always been. We both are. And so are you, Mom.

“Well—what do you need from me?” her mother asked. “I’m very busy and was about to go to bed. Your sister had me watching her babies and I’m tired. Do you need me to fly over? Money?”

No, Mom. I’ve got money. You see, I’ve decided to become my stepson’s whore.