Rosa pulled the blanket flat in front of her and ran her fingers over the dried drops of blood there. When she’d first received the blanket and saw the stains, she had tried frantically to wash it out at the sink, disturbed by its implications, but the spots had remained. Now, it made her feel less alone, connected to someone, even if the blood did belong to a dead woman. Rosa assumed the man had killed her. After all, he had to be the one they’d been referring to on the news. She and Rowan weren’t the first two women to go missing and bodies had been turning up across the Tri-State area for years. It was probably only a matter of time till their own bodies were discovered abandoned in plastic bins out there somewhere, just like the rest of them.

She sighed and pulled the wrappers out from under her pillow. She’d been using the wrappers from the granola bars to make an origami bracelet. It helped pass the time and sometimes she hummed songs under her breath as she folded the delicate creases, trying to fill the quiet void that Rowan left. She’d already made one bracelet but the man had snatched it away when he saw it on her wrist. He’d said a proper lady should not be decorated. She decided she would hide this one under her pillow instead of wearing it when he was here, to protect the one thing she had control over.

Rowan woke and sat up, groggy. ‘Did he come for his dinner?’ Her voice barely existed, scratchy and quiet from its lack of use.

‘Yeah, you were sleeping so I took care of it, even though I did lunch, too.’ She tried to keep the resentment out of her voice but it trickled in regardless.

‘Thanks.’ Rowan rubbed her eyes, stared off into the distance for a minute and then began sobbing again.

CHAPTER 21

I unplugged the curling wand, placed it on the bathroom counter and reached for my hairspray for one final coat. I ran my fingers through the large sectioned curls, loosening them just enough so the waves looked sleek and purposeful, rather than their natural limp state. I wished I had inherited my mother’s natural curls, I thought, as I remembered all the photos I’d seen at Cris and Rosie’s. Hers was so thick and bouncy, and looked like it didn’t require nearly the same amount of effort mine did just to leave the house. I ran my hand over my black silk jumpsuit, smoothing out some wrinkles. The exhibit I was covering for work didn’t require me to look fancy, nor did lunch with my uncle and aunt, but looking put together made me feel more in control. The visits from the FBI and the search for TSK had me on edge and I was having trouble feeling grounded.