What surprise? My baby shower hadn’t been a surprise. Maybe the baby monitor she’d given me? But that was naïve. I turned the phone over and over in my hands. Another surprise. Was Sandy the first surprise? She was the only person in Texas I’d had any trouble with, but I’d never wished her dead. Had Lena seen something in me that made her think I longed for violence? No amount of bitchiness meant Sandy deserved to die naked and alone in a pool of her own blood.

A sob built in my throat, but I tried to choke it down. I didn’t want my parents to hear.

If Lena thought Sandy deserved death, her next surprise must be Aimee.

Lena might have sliced Aimee up and murdered her on a whim. For a hot second, I almost burned with something like joy. All that agony over, my tormentor dead. But the feeling was gone in a flash, leaving me sick to my stomach. Revenge was one thing, wanting vindication or restitution, but death was something else, something vile and permanent, a stain on the new life I was building, an affront to the joy I had in Grace. If I really was brave, if I really was strong, I couldn’t just cower in this basement and let bad things happen to someone else.

Even someone I thought I hated.

Alondra was notifying the police. Nobody here would be convinced by an almost-out-of-frame profile on a screenshot from a social media story. And Aimee wouldn’t be convinced by a simple message from me. If I just knew she was alive, maybe that would be enough.

I’d deleted her cell phone number ages ago, so I called the main number for the museum. Most museum employees took Sunday off, but Aimee preferred to work long hours, weekends, even holidays. Maybe when she was home alone, she couldn’t stand her own company. The automated message ran with choices for tickets, hours, exhibitions, special events. I bypassed the directory and entered Aimee’s extension.

My pulse was so fast I could feel it in my throat, but the number went to voice mail. I listened to Aimee’s familiar voice saying her own name, and then the robo-voice invited me to leave a message, but I hung up, shaky and cold. Even if she had answered, I might not have been able to speak. What could I say that wouldn’t sound insane? And why would she stay on the phone with me at all?

No, this was crazy. I’d have to see Aimee in person. Maybe to warn her, maybe just to reassure myself that she was alive.