Sabrina shook her head. “Back in the mansion, I could pretend I might not make it to the end. That my sister’s vision for me could have been a mistake. Now, I’m here, and around every corner, I’m reminded of the existence of worlds outside the one everyone knows. It hasn’t done anything to me but confirmed my purpose.”
Linda let go of Sabrina’s hand. “Sabrina, that’s insane. That’s some fairy tale bullshit. You have to realize that cannot possibly be real.”
“Then why am I here?”
“You’re here because you’re a strong, gorgeous woman, who plays well on TV. You’re here because Tristan isn’t a complete boil and knew you’d make a good partner for his spotlight. You weren’t destined for anything. If that’s what’s driving you? Then you need to take another look around. Seize control for yourself.”
Sabrina shook her head, but the words reached inside Linda, too. She wasn’t in control. She never would be. Not while Deja pulled her strings.
• • •
As the sunrise died, morphing into the leaden monotone of another misty day, Deja came for Linda. “Confessional,” she said as she gripped Linda around the arm.
“Is that necessary anymore?” Linda jerked away, but when Deja beckoned her into the den, she went.
Deja pushed her into a chair. The red recording light was already on.“I’m checking in on everyone’s mental state,” she said. “With the two accidents and all.”
“Accidents, right.” Linda folded her hands in her lap and tried not to let her voice give away discomfort; Deja would use it against her.
“Do you have an opinion on that?”
“On what?”
“On the nature of the accidents. Two in two days.”
“You tell me. You’re the producer. Aren’t you in control of everything?”
Pulling over a chair, Deja straddled it backwards, facing Linda on her level. “You know something about accidents, don’t you?”
Linda pursed her lips. “I know nothing about accidents. But you do, don’t you?”
Deja’s laugh was cold and short. “Your father died in an accident, didn’t he? A camping accident?”
“You know how my father died.”
“We can sit here all night. This is for your own mental health, Linda. You need to open up. Unburden yourself from your feelings. Seeing a dying man reminded you of your father’s death. That happens. It’s normal.”
Anger unspooled in Linda’s stomach. She clenched her fists. “I won’t be manipulated.”
Deja smirked. “You think you haven’t been manipulated?”
Linda closed her eyes and imagined something swooping from the sky, breaking through the roof, and carrying her to safety: an eagle, a hot air balloon, even Tristan in the cockpit of his plane. But no—there was no way to call for help. Or was there?
As Linda lunged forward, Deja startled out of the way.
“What the fuck?” Deja yelled.
“Give me the goddamn phone.”
Linda lunged again, knocking down the cameras and pinning Deja against the wall. Deja tripped backward, then slid onto the floor like a snake. She tried to crawl through Linda’s legs, but Linda put all her weight into trapping her.
“Where’s the phone?” Linda said.
Deja said nothing, and Linda ran her hand across Deja’s back pockets. She felt the phone’s shape in the front of Deja’s jeans. She pulled it free.
“There’s no signal,” Deja said. “What are you going to do with a phone that doesn’t work?”
Linda turned on the screen and checked the bars. Deja wasn’t lying.
“You can have the damn phone,” Deja said. “It’s useless.”
Linda held it to Deja’s face to open the screen, then swiped through. The first screen was overfull with apps: calendar, music, video editing, a fitness tracker, a reader, music, some silly romance game, phone, and messaging. Linda checked the record, but there were no calls placed since they’d arrived. She opened messaging. Nothing. No one.
Outside, feet stomped toward the door. As Linda leapt up, Deja scrambled to her feet. The door burst open: Sabrina, wild-eyed, on the other side.
“You said it was a possum,” she said. “But there’s something else going on here, and we need to get to the bottom of it.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Sabrina
The haunted place had reached into her and twisted her against herself. She had a friend. Her friend wasn’t capable of murder. She knew that much if she knew anything. But Linda was wrong about one thing: there was something fucked-up about this place, something as yet unexplainable. If Sabrina were going to save Tristan, she needed to uncover the truth.
Deja shrugged. “What do I know about wildlife?”
“It wasn’t an ordinary possum.” Linda shivered. “It looked…monstrous.”
“Where is it now?” Sabrina said. “The creature’s body.”
