Do Not Disturb

by Freida McFadden

And my husband is still lying dead on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood.

Then something hits me. She called me Quinn. Somehow, she knew my name.

raspy voice spits out, “How could you do that?” And then a second later the knife buries itself in my abdomen, between the open folds of my coat. I stare at it for a moment, watching the crimson stain spread across my shirt. And then everything goes black.

see the engraved letters: DEREK + QUINN. Quinn was here. In this very room.

Nick nods at room 201. “Going to fix that leak.”

R u really going to though???

I’m not dead. Did you think I was? That I’m some corpse my husband propped up in front of the second-floor window to frighten his guests? I’m not. I’m very much alive. And I’m afraid my husband is a murderer.

WHAT

That psychic at the carnival was right. My husband is a murderer. And it’s all because of me.

ROB

What is he doing here ??

“Mr. Delaney, this is Officer Higgins. We found this phone number on a burner phone in the pocket of your brother-in-law, Derek Alexander.” My world tilts sideways as my mouth drops open. “What?”

All these years, I had been scared Nick was the one who killed Christina Marsh. I should have known he would never do something like that. But I never dreamed Greta could have done it either. “I’ve done it before.” She says it casually, like she’s talking about going roller skating instead of committing a murder.