Chapter 133

• Elizabeth couldn’t stop shaking. The image of Lance’s blood on the church floor stayed burned behind her eyelids every time she blinked. She sat on the edge of the mattress in the safehouse bedroom, knees drawn up, arms locked around them so tightly her knuckles whitened.
• She kept hearing the gunshot. Hearing Lance’s broken apology. Seeing Richard’s smug, satisfied smile as he pulled the trigger.
• She pressed her face into her knees to muffle the ragged sound in her throat. It wasn’t quite crying. Crying felt like too much effort.