My heart started to pound more, growing stronger with each beat. “You guys are okay?”

“Yeah.” He paused, glancing to Bryce’s door. “They had questions about Guadalupe for him.”

“Oh.” I swallowed, a light-headed sensation was filling me up. “Like what?”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing grin as he studied me. He knew what was going on with me. I’d been the one to crawl into bed with him for so many nights. I licked my lips. They were so damn dry.

Corrigan murmured softly, “Like the last time he saw her. What happened? When was the last time he called or texted her? Questions like that.”

I frowned. “That’s weird.”

“Yeah, it is. They asked the last time he saw her assistant, too.”

“They did?”

He nodded. “He gave them her phone.”

“Oh.”

“He said you might be mad since that was a big thing from going to the hotel that day.”

“Yeah.” I folded my arms over my chest and turned so I was leaning onto the doorframe. I wanted to go to him. It was the next best thing to hold myself back. “I wanted to see what else was on that phone.”

He nodded. “I know. Bryce feels bad, handing the phone over, but he thought it would help. He thinks the police are looking into Maria more. Maybe they’re taking this case more seriously and looking at other suspects or something.”

“Wait.” I pressed a hand to my forehead. “You think Maria killed Grace?”

He lifted a shoulder up. “Who knows? Guadalupe’s assistant is bat-shit crazy. I wouldn’t put it past her—hurt someone that had hurt you, set you up. Bryce showed me some of the messages she sent him. Some were just crazy. She was threatening him, saying that if he didn’t go back to Guadalupe, she’d do something to hurt the ones he loved.”

“Me?”

“It makes sense. It gives her motive.”

“That’s insane.”

“Yeah. She’s insane.”

“Oh.” I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I had never considered Maria as a suspect. Yes, she hated me and she was nuts about her boss, but killing? “Yeah, maybe. That’s crazy, though.”

“Newsflash, Sheldon. Whoever killed Grace is crazy.”

“I know. I just . . .” A wave of anxiety rolled through me. “I don’t really want to think about it now. Tomorrow, we’ll figure something out.” That was going to be the plan from now on. Every day we had to try something new. We had to.

“Can you sleep?”

My heart lurched back into my chest. That was the problem. “No.”

He hesitated, glancing at Bryce’s door again.

Corrigan was my best friend. He’d always been there for me. He’d been my shelter and protector. I held out a hand.

He looked at it, but didn’t move.

I kept it there, holding it out between us.

He continued to look at it.

My heart was pounding, louder and louder in my eardrums. I wanted him to take it. I needed him to take it.

Then I heard him, his voice hoarse. “You should check on Bryce. He needs you tonight.” And his door shut.

His rejection hit me. When his door shut, the sound was like an extra nail to my coffin. I opened my mouth, but there were no words. What the hell was I doing? I glanced at Bryce’s door, then I slipped from my room and knocked on it softly.

Looking at the bottom of the door, there was no light shining from inside, and I didn’t hear him answer me. I opened the door anyway.

He still didn’t call to me, but I could see the silhouette of his body in the bed. He was sitting on the edge with his hands braced on his knees, leaning forward. “Bryce?” I entered the room, calling to him.

“She’s missing, Sheldon.”

I frowned, feeling a nervousness in my gut. “Maria?” The assistant?

“Guadalupe. She’s missing.”

Shutting the door, I left the light off and crossed to his bed. I stood in front of him, unsure what to do at that moment. “Do they think something happened to her?”

“Or she’s running.” He lifted haunted eyes to me. I could see the whites of them from the moonlight streaming in through the windows.

“Running?”

“There were messages on Maria’s phone to Guadalupe. They talk about hurting you. There’s even one that mentioned hurting someone and making it look like you did it.”

My eyes widened. I hadn’t actually thought . . . “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I’m so sorry, Sheldon.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s because of me. I saw the messages earlier today, and I was going to show them to you, but we got busy with the masquerade ball. You seemed intent on going so I figured tonight or tomorrow, then the cops asked to see me, and they were asking all these questions. I gave them the phone. I showed them the messages. I’m hoping it’ll help. I mean, my god, Sheldon. Then there’s another suspect. You could get that ankle monitor off.”

I didn’t know what to say. Guadalupe? Her assistant? I knew they hated me, but to frame me? To kill Grace over it? A surge of anger rose up in me. My fingers curled inward, forming fists. The desire to find them, to hurt them back, was growing stronger and stronger.

“Sheldon?”

“They hurt Grace? So she could be with you?”

“I’m sorry, Sheldon.”

I left. I didn’t know what to think and finding this out—that was the reason Grace was dead—I couldn’t be in the same room as him. Tearing through the door, I stalked into the hallway, but stopped suddenly.

Corrigan was there. He was waiting outside my door.

“Sheldon?” Bryce followed me. He stopped too, seeing Corrigan there. He said, “Let me talk to her.”

“No.” Corrigan shook his head as a somber look came over his features. “I sent her in there, but she came out.” He opened my door and stepped inside. “I’m done with being nice and holding back.”

His eyes met mine. I saw the stark hunger in him, and I gasped, feeling it in me, too. I didn’t think. I just went to him.

“Sheldon!” Bryce grabbed my arm.

I stopped in my doorway and turned to face him. I saw the agony there, how he wanted to reason with me, but I shook my head.