"Micheal?" Erica's voice was soft, trembling with a sudden, horrific premonition. "Who is... why is the camera moving?"
Evelyn turned the phone toward herself, her panda-streaked eyes and messy hair filling the frame. "Good evening, Miss Jones," she whispered, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Michael is a bit tied up at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?"
"Mr. Thorn," Evelyn said, her voice dropping into a sultry, artificial purr that she knew would travel perfectly through the microphone. "I have to say, the wool carpet in your bedroom is very comfortable. It was worth the wait."
She was playing a dangerous game, leaning into the lens with her "panda-eyed" makeup and messy hair, looking exactly like a woman who had just emerged from a private encounter.
