41
CAMPBELL
Hollin dropped me off at my Range Rover with a half-smile. “Good luck.”
I tipped my head at him. “Hope I don’t need it. But thanks. For everything.”
It took me ten minutes to get to Blaire’s house. Nerves had eaten at me the whole drive. I tucked them safely away, where they belonged, and lifted my hand to knock on the door.
That was when I heard the first shout.
“Don’t do this! Honey, stop!”
I didn’t think; I just barged into Blaire’s house.
What I saw stopped me dead.
Blaire stood with a hand outstretched toward Honey. Her other hand was on her cell phone on the dining room table. Honey stood in the kitchen. A knife was poised on her wrist. Red blood dripped from the self-inflicted wound.
“Campbell,” Blaire said with relief.
“Stay back!” Honey shouted at me. Her ey
