Marco must have seen the video as soon as it went viral. Within twenty-four hours of the video appearing on the internet, Claire was sitting in my spinning class, charming me. They probably hit the road from LA the night the video was released and then, first thing that morning, stopped by the Lake Tahoe Gazette to ask the article’s author if they knew where they could find me. Now that I’m thinking about it, that day Hannah and I had a fight out in front of the paper, there was something else she wanted to tell me as I was storming off. Could it have been a warning?

When Marco showed up with Jasper today, I had assumed he’d been in town a couple days and as soon as they found me they’d rushed into my house brandishing guns, finding Claire there instead of me. But that wasn’t the case. Marco and his team must have been here all week. Claire was his real partner, and he’d been patient as he put her to work. I remember when Claire sat down on the bike next to me at the gym and flashed me a sweet, friendly smile. It was all a performance, from that day to this one. I kept a secret from her, but she’s the one who was a different person. She was the pretender.

Was any part of her real? Was she Marco’s girlfriend? Marco had told her to shoot me, so she probably could have saved his life. Instead, she let me kill him before shooting me. Maybe she had conned Marco from the start as well.

Remembering meeting Claire in the spinning class—the way I’d fallen for her con like the world’s most naive mark—makes me think of meeting Hannah the day before. I trusted the wrong girl. I wish I could go back in time and somehow make things work with Hannah. If I had stepped out of hiding after saving the girl and just talked to her, I could have asked her not to write the article. And even though she did write it, I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at her. I never should have given Claire the time of day. I should have called Hannah and said, “Hey, I’d like to get to know you.” I let myself imagine this alternative reality as I wait for Claire, or whatever her name is, to leave.

After about an hour, the woman finally rises to her feet and heads back down the trail. She walks along the boulders with a gait that seems entirely unfamiliar, as if she really is a different person altogether. Before she reaches a bend in the trail that will take her out of my sight, she looks over at me, and even though she is far away, I can see her blowing me a kiss.