I didn't sleep that night either.
I lay in the dark beside Charlotte, listening to her breathe, running through every person who'd been inside that house over the past week, turning each of them over in my mind like stones I was checking for something crawling underneath.
The club member who'd dropped off coloring books. The girlfriend who'd brought the beading kit. Harold, Papa Niel's driver, who'd only ever been on the porch, never inside, as far as I knew. Even Diane, who I'd only met days ago and trusted almost entirely on instinct and desperation.
I hated that my mind kept circling back to Sofia, too, even though I knew — I believed — that she'd fought Vincent off with everything she had, that her bruised jaw and split eyebrow weren't the marks of someone playing both sides. But tr
