~ Evie ~
It’s the next morning, eight twenty-two. I printed the photos last night after Jack fell asleep - three big ones of Karlos Spenser. One close-up of his face so you can see the eyes, the jaw, that little smirk. One full body at some charity thing. One with him shaking hands. I shoved them in a plain folder and didn’t say a word to Jack. He’s in the passenger seat now, Donald strapped in the back in his car seat, chewing on a teething ring and making those happy little grunts like nothing’s wrong. Jack keeps glancing at me, one hand on my knee, thumb rubbing slow circles. He didn’t fight me when I said I was going back to Tom’s. Just grabbed Donald’s bag and followed. “I’ll wait in the car,” he said. “You need to do this part alone.” Smart man. He knows when I’m about to explode.
