Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next day when I wake up, Gabriel is gone, but there’s a phone on the bedside table. I know it’s meant for me because the pawn sits on top of it. When I turn it on, there are three numbers already saved—Harper’s cell phone, the number to Mr. Stewart in the nursing home.
The last number says Asshole.
He answers after the first ring. “Good morning.”
“Where are you?”
“Downstairs. I have a few things to take care of in my office, but I’ll be done in time for lunch.”
“Am I allowed to wander?” There’s a hint of snark in my voice, but it’s also a serious question. I don’t know what the rules are for this new tenuous truce.
“Of course,” he says. “Just don’t get lost.”
His house is ridiculous with hallways that lead in circles, with bedrooms that lead into deeper roo
