9. What That Was
Mina
I was stuck working by a strongly scented ginger candle perched awkwardly on the windowsill. It had been between that and turning Ben around so the injury faced the light by the doorway. There was no telling when Mom might come home, open that door, and ask me for a rundown. At least the flame made a convenient place to sterilize the needle.
Not for the first time, Ben’s phone and mine announced almost simultaneous incoming messages.
Haley.
Aldo.
Neither of us looked. We’d each answered once that we were safe, full details to follow, but we hadn’t discussed what those full details were, so there was nothing more to report.
There had been no time to rearrange the room for his benefit. It was slightly guarded against Mom, with the decoys prominently displayed on
