To Kill a Catfish (Death and Dating Thrillers) by Polly Harris

Author:Polly Harris [Harris, Polly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pauline Harris Editorial
Published: 2022-06-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Much like the day before, my shift at the smoothie shop is practically the seventh circle of hell. All I can think about is getting back home and stalking the fuck out of every man who’s ever come into contact with Sarah’s account. It’s the only lead I have. I spend my brief moments of downtime gathering a list of names based on the account’s message history. Starting with guys who were vocally unhappy about our meddling. Not quite as violent-sounding as Blaine, but close enough.

When a coworker comes to relieve my shift, I basically sprint out the door. I reach the apartment complex and park in the lot, wondering if Julian was serious about me knocking on his door when I got home. We did just spend the last few days together. But maybe he’s sick of me and needs time to focus on something other than finding his neighbor’s roommate. And then there was the total breakdown I had this morning. And the feel of his hands against my face, my neck . . .

Aside from murderous thoughts about Brooklyn’s kidnapper, Julian has weirdly taken center stage in my mind for the day. Which I feel guilty as fuck about.

Brooklyn. That’s all I should be focusing on. Getting her back. And I am. I just happened to also have some weird encounter with Julian Sun, and now my mind has been turned to mush.

But then I practically ran out of the apartment to go to work. Was that . . . weird? Was he about to kiss me, but I literally ran away? God. Maybe knocking on his door wouldn’t be such a great idea after all.

I run my hands down my face, sighing. The one time I have any kind of romantic connection with someone, it happens during the middle of a literal crisis. Perfect.

I hop out of my car, locking it behind me. I spy Brooklyn’s car in the corner, where it hasn’t moved for days. A sick feeling takes hold of my gut. I take a deep breath and keep walking.

Suddenly a voice rings out across the parking lot, and I groan internally.

“Vally!” I hear the footsteps scampering up behind me, and I don’t need to turn to know who it is.

“Hey, Sylvie.”

“Heyyy.” The word is drawn out—much like the way she speaks when she and Brooklyn are engaging in gossip. Except I’ll bet anything that Brooklyn herself is going to be the topic of this conversation. She steps in front of me, halting my path toward the building. Her eyes are wide, and she leans in conspiratorially. “Where the hell is Brooklyn?”

I grimace. That’s the million-dollar question. I open my mouth to supply some kind of answer, but Sylvie keeps going.

“We were supposed to meet up yesterday, but she never showed. And she’s not answering my texts. Then I remembered that weird thing you texted me the other day. So, I texted you. But you didn’t respond.” She looks at me expectantly.

Oh. Shit. Yeah, I guess I had seen some texts from Sylvie come through.

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