Threshold of Pleasure. Vivi Anna

He’d quit smoking years ago and replaced the habit with gum-chewing. “The question is, what do you know about the Grae woman?”

      “I don’t know. Nothing probably.”

      “Spill it, Swain. You wouldn’t be phoning me otherwise.”

      Eden pinched the bridge of her nose. Her headache was getting worse, likely Charlie-induced; he possessed an innate ability to give her one. “I think I talked to her last night on the help line.”

      “Are you shitting me?”

      “I don’t know for sure. The woman on the phone didn’t give me her name, but there was something in her voice that told me she was scared, maybe even running from something.”

      “Look,” he said, and she could hear the exasperation in his voice. “There’s nothing I can do with that. You know how this works.”

      “Yeah, I know.”

      “You have anything else? Anything 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.