Threshold of Pleasure. Vivi Anna
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I could use?”
“No.” Eden didn’t want to mention the conversation about the devil and demons—for some reason she wanted to keep that to herself. “Maybe I just related the two because I was bothered by her call last night.”
He sighed and she could hear the rustling of paper. “What time was the call?”
“About midnight.”
“From a cell phone, do you think?”
“No, it sounded like a pay phone. It had that hollow echo to it, you know?” She chewed on one of her fingers, nerves zinging through her. A sense of urgency jolted her mind. Something was happening. And it was happening now. “Where did she work?”
“Why do you need to know?”
“Just humor me, okay?”
More rustling of paper. “Some club called The Gate. Does that ring a bell?”
“No.” The feeling of urgency increased. Eden felt as if her heart was going to burst out of her mouth. “Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
“I think she might’ve been the woman from my shooting.”
There was a long pause, then a sigh. “Eden, you know that’s impossible. Lilly Cain died, remember?”
Eden dragged a hand through her hair. “I know. I know. She just looks exactly like her. And her name...so similar.”
“Have you been seeing Dr. Clarkson?”
“Yes.” She hated when people brought up her therapist as if she was going mental. Who knew? Maybe she was.
Eden jerked forward on the sofa, her fingers itching to grasp the cool glass of a bottle of scotch. “I got to go. Sean’s here to pick me up,” she lied.
“Yeah, I heard you were working for your brother.”
“It’s a job.” Eden stood. “I’ll talk to you.” She pressed the end button on the phone and tossed it onto the sofa. Pacing the room, Eden mulled over what Charlie had told her. Not much information, but enough that she could do her own investigation.
The urge to do something, to track down this woman, munched on Eden’s insides. Her gut told her something was seriously wrong. For some reason she was certain that Lilith Grae had called the help line to talk to Eden specifically. That the woman somehow knew her.
Fate. Normally, she didn’t believe in it. But it seemed as if fate was starting to believe in her.
Chapter Four
The heat was unbearable as Eden drove home from work. Sweat trickled down her back and pooled into the dip of her pants. She rolled down the window and took in some deep breaths of the smog-tainted air. She didn’t care—she just needed to feel some sort of breeze on her face. She was overheating from the inside out. Panic raced through her. Black spots started dancing in her eyes.
She rubbed her face hard, digging her knuckle into her eye to try and erase the dark dots. Something was wrong. She felt light-headed, dizzy even. She’d drunk water most of the day and she hadn’t hit her head at the job site. So what was the problem?
Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Eden wished for a drink. Scotch would calm her down, soothe her nerves. Just a little sip to take the edge off her anxiety.
Ahead on the right, the word liquor jumped out at her in red neon. Swerving, she cut across two lanes of traffic to take the turnoff. Car horns blared. Tires squealed. But all Eden could concentrate on was the cool, calm feel of a bottle of scotch in her hand and the way it would numb her tongue and throat on the way down to warm the hollow pit inside.
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