The Wrong Murder

I took a cue from his playbook, faking a grin. “Sure. I’d like that.”

“Good. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

I ate the meal with him. Although I’d be lying if I said I weren’t having heart palpitations the entire evening…

Friday came in no time.

Julian and I were en route to the lake house while each landscape molded into the next. The collage of red, orange, yellow, and brown leaves screamed out at me because there was nothing like the crisp scent of fall in the air.

I went through his duffle bag while he took a shower when we arrived at the lake house. For some reason, I couldn’t shake the burning sensation from my stomach that something was wrong.





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