Everything finally clicks together, like I've discovered the elusive last piece of a jigsaw puzzle under a sofa cushion and have locked it into place. I turn off the water and stare at Phoenix's phone where I left it on the bathroom counter, even though the screen is dark now.

If someone wanted to get rid of gunshot residue, blood, and other DNA from a room, what would be the most thorough way to do it with little chance of missing something? Remove every surface from the room that could contain any of those things, that's how.

I can't prove this as the reason for why the guest room is torn apart. I also can't prove that the gun hidden in the floor under Phoenix's bed has any connection. Paranoia could be creeping in, but there's justifiable reason to feel this way when both of these things are stacked up with everything else that's happened over the last few weeks.

Phoenix came to Nebula in Vegas on the night this all began, knowing I would be there. He made an intentional effort to stay off Torin's radar until he was inside the bar so he could seek me out, then he persisted with his requests to reconnect, and all of this took place after he overheard Ava tell Torin that my latest book is based on Len's disappearance. He had six years before then to reach out, and locating me wouldn't have been hard, but he only did it right after learning that. Did he want to find out what I'd pieced together on my own, or what theories I had about what really happened to Len? He's aware of how much time and work I put into research when I'm writing a book, because he witnessed it the first time we were together, before I was a published author. Did knowing I would have combed through everything I could about Len's disappearance worry him?

Then there's the homicide detective who appears to be regularly in touch with him, possibly about Len. Could Phoenix be a person of interest connected to her disappearance? The first text message I saw on his phone from Dalton Petaluma was the same day the news came out about a break in her case. Then, not long after the announcement and pretty soon after I left Las Vegas, Phoenix took off into the desert for days and went dark. Was he really working there? It could be all the true crime documentaries I've watched, but my imagination is practically volcanic with the way it's spewing scenarios and theories about his actual reason for disappearing. Was he hiding out in the desert for a few days to decide on his next steps? Or was he visiting Len's burial site to determine if her body had been found?

A shudder runs through me at the last thought. Could Phoenix be capable of murder? My mind wants to protest this at every turn, but how much do I really know about who he was during the last six years, and who he's become? He was out of control by the time he walked out on me, and every media account between then and when he dropped out of sight confirmed he became worse. There's no telling what he could have done when he was blind drunk and using drugs on top of it. He said he stayed sober from the time he got back from rehab in Antigua, but did he? Was it that easy to do before his alleged reason to, which he claimed was finding Len? Or was it something he did after that, while completely intoxicated, that scared him back to sobriety and kept him in check so he could cover his tracks?

Torin said Phoenix's time in Las Vegas began about six months ago, and Phoenix hasn't refuted this. Torin also said he's with Nash a lot. Phoenix knew Nash through Len, and the timeline of the two of them meeting means Nash would have been well aware of his substance abuse and behavior. Did something happen that had him wanting to stay close to Nash after Nash moved to Vegas, so he could watch out for himself? Could Nash have seen or overheard something, or could Len have confided something to him that had Phoenix concerned? And is he worried about Nash saying something to me or to Ava if he isn't around? It would explain why he's been so triggered by the thought of Nash and Ava becoming closer than they are, and why he showed up at the bar last night, unannounced, after I told him about the show. It's possible he didn't want me alone with Nash if he thought there was something incriminating that may have been said to me in his absence.

Only Phoenix has the answers to my questions, but I'm not sticking around to confront him and demand the truth. Circumstantial evidence or not, my survival instincts are screaming at me to leave before he returns with breakfast. If the break in Len's case means it's solved and authorities know what happened to her, and if Phoenix is involved, who knows what he might do when we're alone together if I slip and say something that causes him to feel cornered? His behavior has been off all week, and he could cross over into caged animal danger territory when he sees the text message from Dalton.

There probably isn't much time before he gets back. Realizing this propels me out of the bathroom and into the bedroom in a hurry, where I change out of the T-shirt I slept in and into my clothes from last night in record time. Then I shove my feet into my shoes, grab my phone and purse, and high-tail it out of the room. I'm in the foyer and a few feet away from my escape when the sound of a car door shutting brings me to a stop. Approaching footsteps soon follow.

Phoenix is home. Now what?

The front door opens seconds later, and he steps inside. His face lights up when he sees me standing there. He extends the takeout bag he's holding out to me, but then his gaze lands on the purse slung over my shoulder and shifts to the car keys in my hands. His smile fades.

"You're leaving now? I thought we were having breakfast?"

His questions cause my pulse to rapidly pick up the pace. My heart is pounding so hard, it feels like it's simultaneously in my chest and throat and ears, and playing drums on my vocal cords.

"I-- I forgot about an appointment I have. I need to go home now and get ready if I'm going to make it in time."

My words come out sounding strangled, at least to me. Does he notice? He must, because the intensity with which he now studies my face makes me want to turn around and bolt for the back door before he manages to read my every thought.

"Okay." He nods, but keeps his eyes trained on me, as if he's assessing the truth in what I've said. "Do you want your food for the road?"

It's doubtful he's tampered with the food, but I've entirely lost my appetite. What can I say, though? Refusing to take my breakfast home could set off alarm bells for him, and who knows what will happen then?

"That would be great. Thank you."

He doesn't reach into the bag to separate out our burritos and churros, though. Instead, he continues staring at me for a few more uncomfortable seconds. A chill takes over my entire body.

"Are you okay to drive? You're pale as a ghost, and your hands are shaking."

He reaches for one of my clammy hands. I immediately flinch and back away from him. It happens as a reflex, but I didn't mean to do it. Now I really have his attention.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

"I need to go," I mumble. It doesn't matter that I don't have my food, because I have to get out of here now. When I try to step around him, though, he grasps my shoulder. I let out a yelp.

"Del?"

"Let go of me." I try shrugging him away, but his hold on me is firm.

"I will when you tell me what's going on. You're acting strange."

An odd, sharp laugh I barely recognize as my own escapes me. The room is spinning now, and it's all I can do to stay standing, even though my inner voice screams at me to push Phoenix away and make a run for it. My limbs feel paralyzed, though, and everything is hazy. It's also difficult to breathe. Is this what shock is? Maybe, because suddenly I'm rambling and unable to stop myself, and it feels like I'm listening to someone else speak.

"I'm acting strange? You're the one hiding a gun in the floor under your bed and who has a homicide detective blowing up your phone. You've been acting weird since the news came out about Len's case, and when you found out Nash talked to me about her. Then you said you had to work this weekend but miraculously finished so early that you could show up here last night, after you found out Torin and Nash were playing in Huntington Beach and that I'd be there. And Torin thinks you aren't working at all in Vegas, because you're always with Nash on weekday mornings and afternoons. This, on top of staying away from me and not contacting me once in our six years apart, until it suddenly became urgent for you to see me after you heard my book is based on Len's case. Why don't you tell me what's going on?"

Pure adrenaline is the only thing powering me now, but it helps clear some of the fog from my brain and the molasses from my limbs. This time, I'm able to shake out of Phoenix's grasp.

"What are you saying?"

I hear his question as I reach for the door and yank it open, but I don't answer and I don't look back. Some higher force carries me down the stairs and to my car, and it must also be what protects me from Phoenix stopping me again or trying to block my path. He calls after me, but I don't process what he says next. All I'm able to focus on is getting inside my car, locking the doors, starting the engine, and getting out of here.

My rearview mirror reveals Phoenix standing in his driveway, watching me go. At first, it seems like it's the grace of God keeping him from getting in his rental car and coming after me, especially if he understood what I meant and accused him of just now. But then I remember he knows where to find me if he wants to, and the thought triggers a wave of nausea. Bile rises to the back of my throat.

I can't throw up. There's no time to pull over, and I need to figure out a plan for where I'm heading to. Going home might not be safe.

I check the rearview mirror again to assure myself that Phoenix still isn't in his car and in pursuit. He isn't, but there's a familiar vehicle behind me. It's the blue Toyota Prius with the license plate I recognize. It's the same car that was parked outside of my building, and that I spotted when I left lunch with Ava at Granville on Friday. Now it's somehow in Laguna Beach and driving in the same direction as me, at the same time I'm on the road.

This isn't a coincidence. I'm being watched, and I'm being followed.

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So, uh... hi?👋😂 What do you think about what Del has pieced together?