“How did the thing go?” he asked. “With the cop?”

Well, he did ask. “I was attacked by a serial killer who said he was possessed by a demon. I almost died. A gorgeous cop who’s a dead ringer for Brad Pitt asked me out for dinner but then reneged and I’m not sure if I should call him. Do you think that would make me look like a stalker?” She sighed. “I may actually throw up at any moment. Just a warning.”

He stared at her. “Are you serious about the serial killer?”

“I’m not in a good enough mood right now to joke.”

“But you’re all right? You’re not hurt at all, are you?”

It was sweet of him to care. “I’m okay.”

“That’s good to hear.” He pursed his lips. “Listen, I’d stick around for moral support or whatever, but I have to split. Are you staying long?”

Well, maybe he didn’t care that much. “For a while. I’m trying to take my mind off what happened, actually. This place is oddly soothing, despite the décor.”

“Well, if you’re looking for something to do… can you enter this all into the computer? I’d appreciate it.”

Eden looked at the stack of files he had his hand on. Andy liked to handwrite everything. Eden was one of the only people in the world — she thought — who could decipher his penmanship. Typing was good mindless work and would definitely help her brain focus on something else before she went home. “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

He grinned and actually patted her shoulder, placing the folders on top of her desk. “Super. You’re a peach, especially after everything you’ve gone through. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow, okay?”

She nodded. “Sure. Have a good night.”

He threw his coat over his shoulder and walked out the front door.

Eden watched him get into his leased red Porsche and drive away. The sky was turning pink and purple and orange as the sun slowly began to sink beneath the horizon.