No, you didn't miss day 11. I spent the day reading the manuscript and getting into the heads of Lavender and Juniper. Here's the next piece of the story:
It takes the team less than an hour to pick apart every square inch of Juniper’s house before they find something. Her house doesn’t even look like her house anymore. Cushions are upended, the large ottoman that was in the corner with the pile of blankets has been turned on its side and is resting against the wall, light fixtures are torn apart and hanging loosely from the ceilings, even her mattress has been pulled and tossed aside so they could take apart the bed frame and look inside the metal pieces. They aren’t even done. I should probably be worried about Juniper, and I still am, but the only thought I can focus on is this is going to take forever to clean.
“It looks like a camera of some sort,” the guy says when he finds it. I suddenly feel very dizzy.
Hidden in plain sight, within her diffuser. Whenever it turned on, so did the camera. Even more terrifying: it had range of the entire home. Her bedroom. The living room. The kitchen. If he was capable of rigging a diffuser to look like a camera, he was capable of a lot of things, the team tells me. I might be sick.
“Oh,” I don’t have any other words.
“You should probably stay somewhere else — maybe find a hotel until we can be certain there isn’t anything else lingering here.”
I stare ahead, unable to process. If he was watching Juniper, does that mean he is watching me? I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the specialist in front of me.
“You think…you think there’s more?”
The guy drops the diffuser into a container and looks back at me with an empty gaze.
“If there’s one, there’s always more.”
I fall into the couch behind me and feel Jasper’s hand rest on my back.
“I have an extra room if you…”
“No.” My response is shorter than I mean it to be but let’s be real. My hands are the shape of a prayer between my legs. I can still feel them shaking. Or maybe that’s my entire body. I can’t even tell anymore. I push my tongue up against my teeth and breathe. I’m shaken, but not desperate.
“Sorry. I just…” I look at him, barely able to hold his gaze. “I need my space I think. I’ll just get a hotel.”
Jasper has his lower lip in between his forefinger and thumb and I’ve spent enough time with him these past 36 hours I already know it means he’s thinking about how to try and word something.
“Are you sure?”
I reach for my phone on table in front of me.
“I’m positive,” I say. I punch in our location and get more than a few options for hotels. “You can help me find a decent place to stay though,” I offer an olive branch — albeit a weak one. “I’ve seen Psycho. Last thing I need is a sketchy hotel where the owner has his dead mom stashed somewhere.”