Miguel invited me over to his place for a bit and drove me home afterwards. We circled the block in his white Mustang, but there was no sign of Nathan's truck anywhere.

"I still think you should call the cops, bro" Miguel said.

"I can't really prove that he's following me," I unlocked the door. "The truck was a block from my building, that's hardly proof of anything."

"What about the knife?"

I shrugged. "He's probably gotten rid of it by now."

"Alright, bro," Miguel sighed, "just let me know if anything weird happens, okay?"

I nodded.

"And if Laura kicks you out, you can crash at my place."

I smiled. "Thanks."

"But after three months, you're gonna have to pay rent."

"That's fair."

"Alight," Miguel exhaled, "see you later, Dom."

"Later, Miguel," I replied. "Thanks."

He smiled. "Anytime, bro—and, uh, try not to get murdered. You still owe me drinks on Wednesday."

I shook my head and smiled. "I'll do my best."

Miguel dropped me off in the parking garage under my building. We figured at least this way, if Nathan was watching, he wouldn't have seen where I actually live.

After getting inside, I went straight for the bathroom and took a bath. I lay in the tub with water up to my chest, thinking about what to tell Laura. I found myself wishing it was yesterday, and she was here, lying beside me. Maybe then I wouldn't have gone out last night, and if I did, I wouldn't have gone after Harper like that.

I should probably call her back now.

I got out of the tub, dried myself off and went to the bedroom. I stared at my phone for a minute before working up the courage to call Laura.

"Hey, baby," she said.

"Hey."

"Sorry, I missed your call last night. My parents decided to throw a huge party to celebrate Audrey and Jon's engagement. I swear they knew he was going to propose."

"That's okay, and I wouldn't put it past them."

"Thankfully, my good friend, Chardonnay, was there to get me through the evening."

I smiled. "What are friends for?"

"Yeah," she giggled. "The only thing that would have been better would have been having you here, especially for a nightcap."

I knew what that tone meant. But a stabbing pain shot through my head again. Harper came into the room, took off her dress and climbed into bed. Her hand found my shirtless chest as her lips found my neck.

"I really like these," she said, tracing her fingers over my abs.

"My wife," I muttered.

"She doesn't have to know," Harper whispered as her hand drifted lower, sending chills through my body. "It can be our not so little secret..."

She doesn't have to know.

I exhaled.

"Dominic?" Laura said.

"Sorry," I replied, "I was just thinking about how much fun that would have been. But I'm sure you and Spencer had a great time."

"Can we please not talk about him," she sighed. "He's coming over for supper tonight. Again."

"Your parents are committed; I have to give them that."

"That's an understatement if I've ever heard one. But enough about the shit that's going on here. What did you do last night?"

She doesn't have to know.

"Nothing, really," I shrugged. "I watched the news, fell asleep on the couch—"

"Try not to have too much fun without me," Laura interrupted, sounding amused.

Too late.

I chuckled. "I'm doing my best, can you tell?"

"Oh, I can," she replied. "But in all honesty, falling asleep on the couch with you sounds like a good night."

I'm an asshole.

I watched as Harper faded away, leaving nothing but a cold, empty space beside me.

Even better than a night with Chardonnay?" I asked.

"Yes, but only a little bit."

I smiled. "I'll take that."

"Well, wish me luck," Laura said, "I should probably go downstairs before I'm summoned."

"Good luck."

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too."

There was a bitter taste in my mouth after Laura hung up. I wanted to get last night off my mind. Then I got up, threw on a pair of shorts and went to the living room. Confessions of a Serial Killer was still sitting on the coffee table where I left it yesterday.

I was about to pick it up when the stabbing pain in my stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten anything all day. So I wandered into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. The bottle of Grey Goose was still on the counter from last night's drinking session. That should pair nicely with ham and cheese.

After finishing the sandwich, I took another sip of vodka and started reading. I finished the rest of the section titled: First Kill, and by the time it had gotten dark, I had finished reading the Second Kill.

Everything in the novel seemed consistent with what the media had reported ten years ago. There was clearly some artistic license used in the telling of the story, but it still made for an intriguing read. I closed the book and turned on the news to see if they had any new information about Friday's murder.

But the only update was that the police were asking for witnesses to come forward. In particular, they were hoping to hear from people who might have been around the park last Thursday night; I tried to remember where I was.

I left work, went to the gym and stayed home for the rest of the evening. For supper, I ate the rest of the salmon Laura made before leaving on Tuesday and then finished reading The Hound of the Baskervilles, calling it a night.

I wonder where Nathan was...

By the time the segment was ending, my eyes were getting heavy. Tomorrow's an important day, so it's probably best to call it in a little earlier tonight. I stretched, turned the TV off and went to bed.

The next morning, I woke up to flurries falling from a grey, overcast sky. According to my phone, there was a sixty per cent chance of snow later. So on my way out, I tried to find my black leather jacket, but it wasn't in the front closet. That's odd.

But, I decided not to waste time by trying to find it; I grabbed a different coat and left to catch the train. I had a nagging feeling about the jacket the whole ride to work. It bothered me that I couldn't remember the last time I saw it.

I'll just have to look for it when I get home later.