I felt like I was going to throw up.

“We have to stage your murder and make it convincing enough for Deveraux and Simmons to believe it.”

“No, we don’t. I’ll still send the warning text, and then we can follow up with a short video of my ‘death.’”

Skeeter shook his head. “There are so many things wrong with this plan.”

“He can do this. I saw him perform impromptu at Gems when the guard found me listening and threw me into their meeting. Trust me, he’ll follow along.”

Skeeter looked grim.

Jed glanced up. “Merv says there are six deputies in the office—including the off-duty deputy who was at the restaurant, a receptionist, and Simmons’ sister.”

I gasped. “Kate is there?”

Skeeter’s eyebrows rose. “Does that mean anything?”

“Yes! She has a table full of crap in her apartment—photos, court cases, police reports, and surveillance—all of it about or related to Mason.”

Skeeter’s eyes widened. “You think she set this up?”

I shuddered. “I don’t know, but there’s evidence she may have hired the guy who ran Mason off the road in December and stole his phone. The phone was on her table.”

“Shit.” He turned to Jed. “Where in the station is she?”

Jed sent a text and waited. “She’s sitting by Simmons’ office. She’s filling out a police report.”

“What for?” My breath stuck in my throat. “Oh, my word. I did this.”

“Did what?”

“Neely Kate and I were in her apartment today. I think she figured it out. Maybe that’s why she orchestrated this. To keep me quiet about what I found out while hurting Mason in the process.”

“If she did this,” Jed amended.

Even I had a hard time believing it. Still, I couldn’t think of a single soul capable of such a thing, other than Mick Gentry and J.R. Simmons.

“Rose.” Skeeter sounded anxious. “We have to send him something.”

I reached out my hand toward my phone. “Trust me. Give me my phone. Please.”

He looked me in the eye for several seconds, then stood and went outside.

“Are you sure there isn’t anyone else in there?” I asked.

Jed nodded.

Skeeter was back in seconds, my phone in his hand. He approached and held it out to me. “Let’s get the video ready first.”

A sudden thought occurred to me as I opened the camera app. “Do we need the sound of a gunshot in the video?”

Jed stiffened. “No. They were gonna slit your throat.”

I sucked in a breath at that cheery thought. “Well, okay then.”

“Remember, you’ve gotta make it convincing,” Skeeter said in a gruff tone.

I nodded and prepared myself, wondering if I should do a dry run first. Especially since my limited theater experience consisted of my non-speaking role as a dog in my second grade class play. But rehearsing would feel ridiculous and wrong, and I plain didn’t have time.

Jed took the phone and held it in front of me. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I nodded, trying to control my anxiety, but I was dangerously close to losing it. “Okay.”

I looked into the phone. “Mason, I love you. This isn’t your fault.” My voice was shaky with nerves, which I supposed would make it authentic to whoever might be listening in the station. But what if Mason didn’t believe the text? What if he trusted the video instead?

I closed my eyes and went along with the plan. “What are you doin’?” I called out, choking back real tears. Everything about this scared me to death. So much could go wrong. “No!” I released a short scream, then stopped as if it had been cut off.

Jed nodded and lowered the phone. “That was good.”

Skeeter snatched the phone from him and turned his back to us. I heard my shaky voice, followed by the scream. He pushed out a long breath. “This might actually work if your boyfriend goes along with the plan and the spy isn’t watching the screen.”

“That’s a lot of ifs,” Jed added.

“We still have to send it,” I said.

I took the phone from Skeeter, pulled up Mason’s name, and started typing.

“Shit,” Skeeter said after a moment. “Deveraux might be able to pull this off, but if your theory is correct, they’ll expect a reaction from Simmons too. How are you gonna manage that?”

I stopped typing. “I’ll tell Mason. He’ll have to pretend he believes the video is real, but if the two of them are alone in that office together, he’ll find a way to get the message to Joe.”

Skeeter swiped the phone out of my hand. “No. Simmons can’t know the truth.”

“I can’t do this to him either!”

His eyes darkened. “I trust Deveraux to keep this quiet to protect you, but I don’t trust Simmons one iota. Despite your protests to the contrary, I’m still not convinced he’s uninvolved.”

“Skeeter! He’s gonna think I’ve been murdered!”

“Good. That’s what I want him to believe.” He held up the phone, his fingers suspended over the keys. “Now what do you want to say?”

“I can type my own stinkin’ text!”

“Not this time. You want to send him a text, I’ll type it. Your choice. I’m good with just sending the video.”