The ambush didn’t come in a dark alley or with sirens, it came at 7 A.M. on a Tuesday, while I was just trying to bring Adrian his stupid coffee.
I was juggling two cups, thinking about how I’d probably spill one before I got upstairs, when a woman in heels sharp enough to kill someone blocked my path. Perfect hair. Sharp smile. Eyes like a hawk circling prey.
“Isla Cross? Miranda Chen, Channel 7 News. Can I ask about your relationship with serial killer Charles Brennan?”
For half a second I thought I misheard her. Then I saw the cameras, at least three, popping out from behind parked cars like they’d been crouching there, waiting. Lights snapped on, microphones shoved toward me.
And then it was like a firing squad.
“Is it true you’re Brennan’s counselor?”
“Do you visit him weekly?”
