Page 127 of Wicked Little Secret

Slipping my mask on, I use the side entrance instead of the front. Then the stairwell instead of the elevator. I come up on her door with the spare key I’ve swiped from Theo’s office—and she apparently hasn’t noticed is missing—and let myself inside.

When Nyssa’s gone, she only leaves the dim light above the stove on and a few other strategically placed plug-in lights for Peaches’s convenience. I flick on the hallway light to survey the space and then scope out the rest of the apartment.

Peaches’s soft little meow comes out of nowhere as the ginger cat makes her first appearance. She stops in front of me with her eyes innocent and bright. I kneel and give her an affectionate scratch under her chin.

Though I have my mask on, she still seems to sense it’s me.

“Hey, Peaches. Don’t be alarmed. I’m here to find out who’s spying on your mom.”

She meows in answer, then trots at my side as we explore the apartment together.

I’m fast canvasing each room, picking up photo frames and books in search of any tiny spy cameras. In several of the photos Theo showed me, it seemed like a camera had been positioned directly in front of her sofa.

Retracing the area from the same angle, I gently check around the shelves nailed to the wall, coming up empty.

I move on to the bedroom with my new ginger sidekick, where I do the same. Any time I move an item, I’m careful to place it back in the exact same way. I’m considerate ofher space, forgoing the urges to take my time and indulge in smelling her pillowcase or admiring her artwork.

That can wait for a less pressing time.

Right now, it’s imperative I find out who has been watching her.

Us.

I finally resort to checking things like the air vents and outlets. I swipe my hand across the blade of the ceiling fan and even remove the thermostat’s cover on the wall. The stupid thing refuses to slide back on as easily.

My teeth clench, and I try to muscle the cover back on.

Peaches meows from where she’s stationed at my ankles.

“Not now, Peaches,” I say. “This damn thing is...”

I go still.

In the loud silence of Nyssa’s apartment, there’s a clack in the front door. The sound of the metal gears turning from the inside as someone sticks a key in the lock.

Someone’s about to come inside Nyssa’s apartment.

Someone who’snotNyssa.

“Damn it,” I breathe under my breath. I abandon the thermostat, leaving it without the cover, and scan her bedroom for a quick hiding spot.

I’m diving inside her closet and drawing the door closed in the same moment the front door’s creaking open.

Heavy footsteps clatter on the wooden floor tiles.

The person’s hardly trying to be subtle. Whoever they are, they’ve explored this space before.

My adrenaline has spun into overdrive. Senses on high alert, my body tenses up and I strain my ears to pick up every sound, gauging where the person is in her apartment.

They move through the living room, then predictably come into the bedroom.

I step further back, trying to disguise myself among the racks of clothes.

The person opens and closes the drawers in her dresser. They sit down on her bed and rummage through her nightstand.

I grit my teeth, barely containing my temper. The sudden, pulsing dark urges demanding I act.

Stay calm. Stay hidden. Stay… shit!