Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Having searched the first floor, my only other option is to go back up. I take the stairs two at time, so frustrated I’m not so worried about being quiet.
Once, I reach the landing, I force myself to slow down. I don’t want to miss anything because I’m upset. The clock is ticking.
There are only four doors on this floor.
One leads to a bathroom, the other to what appears to be another guest room. The third door leads to the room he kept me in.
The last door reveals the master suite.
Stepping into Simon’s room, I eye his bed then take in the spartan furnishings. God, he’s so boring. There’s no color, no personality. Just gray, black, and white drab.
The first door I yank open leads to a bathroom. Of course it’s so clean it fucking sparkles. It also reeks of disinfectant. The next door leads to his closet. All his shirts, ties, and suits are hung up and sorted by color.
I pull down one of his white dress shirts and then grab a black belt to go with it.
Simon still hasn’t replaced the shirt he destroyed on the way here and I’d prefer not to walk around Garden City in my bra. I need to draw as little attention to myself as possible.
Quickly buttoning up the shirt, I wrap the black belt around my waist and check myself in his mirror. It’s not the most fashionable outfit, but it will do for right now.
On a whim, I decide to push down my dirty skirt and panties then chuck them at his bed.
Bet he’ll fucking love that.
Properly dressed for escape, I check the last door in this room, hoping for a miracle.
What I find is every evil genius’s wet dream. An entire room full of computers and high-tech equipment.
A blast of cold air hits me as soon as I step into the room and for a moment I’m almost dazzled by all the flashing screens. There’s just so many of them. It’s fucking visual overload.
Blinking, I move further into the room and count up the screens on the wall in front of me. There are ten of them. I do a slow spin and look to the other walls, counting up the screens. Ten on each. So thirty screens total in this one room.
How can he possibly watch all of them?
While the screens on the walls to my left and right seem to be live news broadcasts from around the world, the screens hanging above the desk in the back of the room look to be surveillance.
I approach the desk, a sick feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. Part of me knows what I’ll find. I’ve had my suspicions…
Half of the screens seem to be locked on one picture, while the other half seem to be cycling through different scenes.
Sitting down in the chair in front of the desk, I start at the top and work my way left to right. The first screen shows the front gate of Matthew’s compound. There’s two armed security guards standing at ready in the guard shack, but otherwise nothing else is really going on.
The second screen is a little more interesting. It shows the inside of a bar or club and is actively using facial recognition to identify all the patrons. Little bits of text information keeps popping up on the screen, next to everyone’s head.
The next two screens show the outside of two schools. I’d bet my left tit the two schools are Adam and Evelyn’s.
The fifth screen is currently cycling but only between two images. The bedroom Simon had me trapped in and the bathroom connected to it.
That creepy fuck… I knew he was watching me. I just didn’t think he’d be sick enough to watch me in the bathroom too. My skin crawls. Did he watch me while I showered? While I used the toilet?
Fuck, I rather not know.
The sixth screen is also cycling but through more images. At first it shows an empty living room then flashes to an empty kitchen. It takes me a second to recognize it as the townhouse I was living in. The screen flashes to the empty bedroom then flashes to the empty bathroom.
Goddammit.
How long has this fucker been watching me? How much has he seen?
The thought of him watching me while I was completely oblivious makes me sick to my stomach.
I suspected I was under some surveillance, but the complete and absolute violation of my privacy...
I don’t even know how to fucking process it.
Is he watching me right now? My eyes quickly shift to the next screen as the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
The screen shows the outside of this house. Cycling from the front gate, to the backyard, to the garage, and back to the front gate again.