Oliver
“Are you ready, Camile?” I ask, glancing at my watch again. I had to beg her to tag along. I think she’s regretting her decision.
When I look over, she is fumbling with her phone. She turns to me, and the look on her face makes me shiver, like the cold winter air settling on my skin. Her eyes are distant and expressionless, a stormy sea at night, black and bottomless. Camile has been incredibly distracted, even more so than when I first arrived.
She’s going through her notes about the case, for the twelfth time today. I’ve counted. She won’t say it, but she’s trying to take her mind off the fact that Mark is getting sicker by the day. She’s racing the clock, or a ticking time bomb, as she calls it. Ask me how I know.
I’ll admit it—I read her journal.
How else am I supposed to l
