“Right.” I back up again and bash into the hood of my car. “Actually, I don’t think I’m going to come over after all.”
Brady’s face falls as he steps closer to me. “You’re not?”
“No. I… I think I’m just going to go home.”
“Well, that’s very disappointing.” He tilts his head to the side. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look funny.”
“I… I’m fine,” I stammer.
He takes a step towards me and my heart skips in my chest. “Why don’t you come upstairs at least for a minute? I’ll get you some water.”
He’s very close to me now. If I try to run around the side of my car to get inside, he could easily grab me. I would hope his nosy landlady or a neighbor would call the police in that situation, but I’m not certain. But I do know if he touches me, I’m screaming my head off. I’m not going down without a fight.
“Nora.” Now his hand is on my shoulder. “Come on. Come upstairs. Just for a few minutes.”
He’s torturing somebody in there. Some poor girl.
I count to three in my head, then with all my strength, I shove him away from me. He stumbles backward, his brown eyes wide. “Nora, what the hell?”
“Stay away from me!” I shout. “Or I’ll call the cops!”
“The cops? What are youtalkingabout?You’rethe one who asked to come over!”
I hit the button on my key fob to unlock the door. Brady is rounding my vehicle, having recovered from being pushed. I should have kneed him in the groin. Well, it’s not too late.
“Nora!” he yells. “For Christ’s sake, Nora! What the hell is wrong with you?”
I yank the car door open. He tries to grab my arm, but I shake him off roughly. I slam the door shut and hit the locks. It’s only after the car is locked that I can breathe again.
“Nora!” He bangs on the window with his fist. “Come on!”
When I start the engine, he realizes I mean business. He backs away from the car, and I take off, leaving him behind in the dust.
Chapter 43
It was Brady. Brady who found me after all these years. Brady who killed those girls and taunted me with it, trying to pin the whole thing on me. Somehow, he figured out on his own who I am, and he got in touch with my father.
My father always wanted a protégé. He was always disappointed it couldn’t be me. Looks like he finally found somebody.
As I drive back to my house, I try to figure out what to do next. I should call Detective Barber. Tell him what I know. Maybe I’ll leave out the part about the human remains in my car. Except without it, my evidence is decidedly weak. Would he even believe me? The most he’ll do is go question Brady, who will of course act completely innocent. He is an excellent liar.
God, what am I going to do?
The entire drive home, I’m checking the rearview mirror to make sure Brady isn’t following me. Of course, he doesn’t need to follow me. He knows exactly where I live. He knew even before I showed him. I remember how hepretended not to know my address on that day he drove me home, after he slashed my tires. Convenient how he showed up at exactly the right time.
Wow, he planned it out so incredibly well. I’m almost impressed. He had me completely fooled.
He even got me to think that he cared about me.
Anyway, I can’t stay at my house. Not without that security system installed—I’ll be a sitting duck. I’ll go home, pack up a few things, and then I’ll go to a hotel for the weekend. And as soon as I’m safe, I’ll give the detective a call and figure out exactly how I’m going to convince him of what I know to be true. It’s time to tell Barber everything. I need to clear my name and make sure the monster who is responsible for killing those girls winds up behind bars.
I’m reluctant to go in through the dark garage, so I park on the street and enter my house through the front door. The first thing I do when I get inside is lock the deadbolt behind me. I also stick a chair under the doorknob to the back door. I don’t know if it’s enough to keep him out, but it will have to do. I won’t be here for very long. And the second I hear anything suspicious, I’m calling the police. He’ll be doing me a favor if he tries to break in.
My stomach growls loudly. When is the last time I ate something? I’m starving, and there are pretty much no groceries in my refrigerator. All I’ve got is that pathetic little soup Harper made me, that’s been sitting in my purse. Miraculously, the Tupperware didn’t spill, so I throw it in the microwave. I let it warm up for two minutes, and I slurp it down. It’s not exactly a nutritious dinner, but better than nothing.
After I’ve had a few spoonfuls of soup, a message pops up on my phone from Brady:Why are you so upset? Is everything all right?
I glance over at the chair wedged under the back doorknob. I hope that’s secure. If only that security guy had shown up. I’d be locked down safely by now. But obviously, Brady must’ve canceled that appointment.
