He was inside my apartment. Or had been.
Slowly, I put the paper back onto the counter and took in a shuddering breath. My eyes burned with unshed tears, instincts of fight or flight urging me to move. To do something.
I spun, swinging my arm out, but hit empty space. No one waiting behind me. The separator that was once something for privacy seemed to be hiding death. The bathroom, a place to hide. Even the closet by the door wasn’t safe.
I swallowed hard and winced as my throat tightened. What was I supposed to do? I wouldn’t call the police, but staying was beyond stupid.
So was leaving a message for the killer in the first place.
I stepped as lightly as I could back toward the entrance, slipping on my flip-flops; there wasn’t any time for anything that required belts and buckles. The tiniest sound sent my adrenaline spiking. Despite my shaky hands, I managed to slide the chain lock off without any sounds. A shadow moved in the corner of my vision, and I wrenched the door open, grabbing my messenger bag before bolting out. It might have been nothing, but I hadn’t thought of checking behind the island counter. Had he been crouched there, waiting?
Staring at the door, I debated what to do. Grabbing my baseball bat and searching the place came to mind, but in the dark, it was reckless. What if he wasn’t even in there anymore?
Then how was the second lock bolted?
The only way he could’ve locked my door without a key would’ve been to lock the doorknob from the inside and just shut the door. I tried recalling whether I’d heard one click when I used my key, but my memory was blank. They just merged with every other time I’d unlocked both and walked inside.
Even if he’d left, the fact he’d been inside sent more shivers down my spine. He’d invaded my personal safe space, and going back seemed impossible. As though it wasn’t even my place anymore. I glanced at my phone and switched off the flashlight, not wanting to waste more battery. Maybe Martin would let me crash at his place tonight?
I sent him a quick text?nothing too specific?then strode off downstairs toward the front doors to the building. As I rounded the corner, I spotted a figure near the entrance. For a second, I froze, then nearly dove back, hitting myself against the wall and scratching the side of my leg. I hissed through my teeth as I stared at the cut, already a line of red appearing. The decorative strip was cracked in a few places, and one piece jutted out at just the right angle to slice me.
My heart hammered as I peeked around the corner, swallowing against the tightness in my throat. The man stood with his back turned to me, black sweater with the hood pulled up. Who dressed that way in this weather? Was that him? Waiting for me?
I staggered back, glancing at my phone again, but no word from Martin.
“Shit... shit... shit,” I muttered as I took off for the other exit.
I rarely used the side one since I didn’t have a vehicle, but for this one time, I’d make an exception. Just as I stepped outside, my phone dinged, and I stopped in my tracks.
Martin: Sorry. Roommates have an agreement about no guests over.
“Fucking...” I slipped the phone back into my bag but took it out again, deciding I’d let Martin know howgreatof a friend he was being. He hadn’t even asked what was wrong. Or asked if everything was okay to begin with. All he wanted from me was sex and blowjobs without anyone else knowing about it. He wasn’t my friend at all.
That reality sunk in harder than it should have, and I let out a small sob. Pressing my lips together, I blinked several times, looking up at the sky to stop from crying. It wouldn’t help. My shoulders slumped as I slipped the device into the bag again.
Where was I supposed to go? I didn’t have many options. Call my social worker. Go to a shelter for the night. None of those sounded particularly good. But the thought of going back into my apartment when I didn’t know where the killer was didn’t sit well with me either.
A hand covered my mouth from behind. I screamed against the warm leather, squirming as my back pressed into a hard chest.
This was it.
His palm pressed against my nose, forcing me to breathe through my mouth. The smell made my stomach churn. A sharp prick pinched into my neck, and my eyes widened as a needle punctured my skin. What felt like hot lead pushed into me, and no matter how hard I struggled, it only made the pain worsen. The world around me spun, and I closed my eyes to stop it. Even in darkness, I plunged deeper into the void, steadied only by the man who came to take my life.
6
Trust
Apounding headache throbbed against my temples. I squeezed my eyelids against the light seeping through. Had I overslept? What time was my alarm supposed to go off again? My mind blanked on when I set it last night before bed. Had the batteries run out? I recalled the power outage and groaned.
The note on my countertop flashed through my mind. I swallowed hard, the dull pain in my neck reminding me of what happened. My pulse quickened, and I sat up. Everything spun, and I pushed my hands against my face. A chain rattled, and I peeked from behind my fingers to the side.
Handcuffed to a chain.
Chained to a wall.
I let out a shaky breath as I pushed through the nausea. This had to be a nightmare. Yet as I stared down, the cot I’d been lying on was definitely not my bed. Before I wrapped my mind around the situation, the door opened, and a masked man walked in. I pressed my back against the wall, doing my best not to show fear. It had been one thing to see this man from behind the safety of some doors or through a video camera. Even looking through old photos of crime scenes he’d left behind. With him standing there, looming over me with the threat of the violence he could inflict, I had trouble breathing.
He grabbed a chair that stood in the corner of the room and dragged it in front of me. I stared around, but apart from the cot and chair, the room was empty. Without a word, he sat, and despite not being able to see his eyes, he was definitely staring at me. He pulled out a piece of paper, unfolded it, and held it up for me to see.
