Haunting-Adeline

“Dick,” I mu er, increasing her laughing. What I’m not going to tell her is
that sex with Zade is far beyond ge ng laid. It’s not just incredibly intense,
it’s metamorphosing. I walked out of that House of Mirrors a completely
different person. And a er last night, I don’t think I will ever be able to go
back to the Adeline Reilly before Zade.
“Have you heard anything from Max?” I ask, the simple ques on erasing
the light hearted tone.
Daya shrugs a shoulder. “No, actually. Ever since he visited us at that
restaurant, I haven’t heard from him. Or the twins.”
I nod and say, “Zade implied several mes that they've been handled,
but I'm not sure what exactly that means. I haven’t even thought to ask,
my mind has been so wrapped around everything else. Do you think
they’re dead?”
She chews her lip and shrugs, appearing a tad uncomfortable. Her best
friend has a serial killer for a… I don’t know what he is. Boyfriend? Lover?
Gross, no. God can smite me before I refer to a man as my lover.
Whatever he is, he's crazy.
But I think she might even know that be er than I do, with him being
her boss. I’m sure she’s aware of the minute details on Zade's opera ons
when he extracts girls.
“I don’t think they are, but I’ll look into it. Regardless, they’ve le us
alone and I’m glad for it.”
I nod in agreement. Can’t say I have any complaints either.
Daya makes a move towards the coffee pot when she steps on the
envelope I threw at her.
Pausing, she picks it up off the floor and sets it down on the island.
That’s when I no ce that it’s an odd envelope. It’s thick as hell, as if it’s
packed to the brim with papers or something.
Brows dipping in confusion, I reach over and snatch up the thick paper.
No ng the look on my face, Daya turns her a en on back to me.
“What is it?”
My address is handwri en, but there’s no return address.
“I don’t know,” I mu er, eyeing the envelope like it’s a bomb. I can’t
explain the exact feeling, but anxiety pools in the pit of my stomach.
Carefully, I peel open the flap, grab the thick stack of papers and slide
them out. Except it’s not all just papers. Dozens of photographs fall out,