After another attempt at washing the grime off myself, I handed back the scuzzy key and headed to the snack aisle on the hunt for something cheap, the chocolate and pretzels I’d scarfed down earlier not satisfying me in the least. The only other person in the shop was a short, red-haired woman who stood in front of the fridge, a chicken sandwich in one hand, an egg salad in the other, looking like she couldn’t make up her mind. I looked at the basket on the floor behind her feet, filled with bread and packets of peanuts, and there, on the top, sat a phone. If I had a cell phone, I could search for clues about Brad and Rosalie. I could combine those with the name Ash, in case the woman I’d called earlier hadn’t made a mistake, in which case I could try to speak to her again.

I glanced at the cashier, who’d turned her back to us and was talking into her own phone. Sandwich lady had gone for egg salad, and now debated her choices of a pot of fresh fruit vs. veggie sticks. As I walked past her, I casually bent over, snatched the phone from the basket and slid it into my pocket.

“Hey!”

I kept walking.

“Excuse me! You took my phone.”

I froze. Could I make it to the front door without the woman tackling me to the ground or the cashier blocking my exit? Even if I made it outside, where would I go? They’d spot me running to the derelict house in an instant. They’d call the cops, and I didn’t know where else to hide. Besides, I was too exhausted to make it far. Perhaps honesty was the best option. Give the phone back, apologize and leave. I turned, took in the woman’s face. She had smooth, porcelain skin and she’d opened her big green eyes so wide, I thought they might pop out and skitter across the floor like marbles.

“Is something wrong, Fiona?” the cashier called over.

The woman called Fiona said nothing as she stared at me, her jaw dropping. “Ash?”

“No. That’s not my—”

“It’s really you! When did you get back?”

The jingling bells on the front door, and the man walking into the shop, spared me from having to answer. “Hey, sis,” he called over to Fiona once he’d spotted her. “Are you coming, or what? Did you grab some beer?”

“Oh, boy,” she whispered under her breath. “I didn’t want him to see you.”