The gentle swell of gravity lunged for full tilt as Marcelline cranked the wheel over hard to take a violent right turn onto a narrow road they’d all but passed. The tires whined through the floorboards and Carly grabbed for the door to keep from pitching into the center console.

“Sorry!” Marcelline called to Carly and to the car. She patted the dashboard like a good horse.

“What are you doing? What is going on? Why are we running away from John? Why is he chasing us? I don’t get any of this.”

Marcelline didn’t answer her and kept checking the rearview mirror until Carly couldn’t suppress the eyeroll and the sound that always came with it in the back of her throat.

Marcelline looked over at her. “I know. Hang on.”

Carly’s imagination was faster than the minute Marcelline needed to get to a point where she could talk. By the time Marcelline finally started, Carly was prepared for news of the zombie apocalypse.

“This is all going to sound really strange. And I hate doing it while we’re driving. But I want you to understand. And I don’t want you to be afraid. Not of me, anyway.”

“But you think I should be afraid of John?”

Carly looked for the answer on Marcelline’s face to measure it against whatever words came out of her mouth.

The scar pulled tight as Marcelline nibbled at the corner of her lip. “I don’t think Jonathan would hurt you.” She stole a quick glance at Carly. “I really don’t. You’re not going to hear me say anything good about him. And it might ultimately be way more about you than it is about him, but I don’t think he would do anything to you.”

“You know him.”

“Huh?” Marcelline was genuinely puzzled.

Carly felt sick. “You came to my house last night. You said you wanted to meet him, but you already knew him. I missed it.”

Marcelline nodded. “He hadn’t seen me in a long time. In fact, he thought I was dead.”

“This whole time, you knew him? Is that why you talk to me? Is that the reason we did the art stuff?”

“Yes and no. I wanted to know something about his life before I saw him again. Yes. That’s why I found you, and why I struck up a conversation with you. And, yes, that’s why I suggested a reason for us to talk more. But the work we did together, all the time we spent, that was because I wanted to. It was great. It is great. Because you’re pretty great. Carly, I hope you believe me.”

She didn’t answer. How could she have missed it?

Marcelline had tricked her with bait—with the art talk, with kneecapping Dylan in the doughnut shop, with showing her what being in control of hard-to-control things looked like.