Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Wha—What did you say?”
“Rebecca Taylor. Where is she?” He stares at me, the color draining from his face.
“How do you know that name?”
“She’s been here going by the name of Jenny Swanson. She befriended Makayla.”
He freezes, his eyes wide. His head shakes. “No.”
“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t know—”
“I didn’t. I swear. That’s why I came here. Rebecca’s been MIA. Not that I’ve minded. I was clear with her to leave me alone, and when I didn’t hear from her, it didn’t sit well with me. She’s. . . well, very adamant about our situation. So, I went to her place. I still had a key. When she didn’t answer, I let myself in. I was worried she may have harmed herself. She’d threatened to do it before.” He pauses to swipe his hands through his hair. “When I went into her bedroom, I saw it.”
“Saw what?” I demand.
“The wall. It was filled with photographs. Pictures of me. Makayla. Snapshots of her at work. At the grocery store. Us in our home. I could barely grasp what I was looking at. But all the ones with Makayla in them. . . they were. . .”
“They were what?” I snap.
“They were vandalized. Torn. She had scratched her eyes out in every single photo.”
“You saw this and didn’t think to call the cops?”
He put his hands up. “I panicked. I tried calling her, but her phone just goes straight to voicemail, and now it’s full. So, I came straight here—”
“Well, she has her, and God knows what she’s done. If something’s happened, it’s on you.” I go at him, but Steve grabs my bicep.
“Stand down, Ben. Mr. Fischer, if Rebecca went anywhere, where do you think she would have taken Makayla?”
He presses his lips together, stuttering out his reply. “I—she could have—maybe—”
“Answer the question!” Every second that ticks by is vital. He’s wasting time.
“I don’t know. She’s a wild card when she’s mad. Sometimes she’d go home to her place or to a bar. When she wanted to rile me up, she’d come to my house and stand on the lawn, hoping my wife—Makayla would see her. My house. She could be at my house, but it’s thirty minutes away—”
“Give me your address.”
“I can call her. Ask where she is.” He pulls out his phone and dials, but Steve stops him.
“Hold on now. Giving her a heads up is not going to help us. If she knows we’re on to her, we’re putting Makayla at risk.”
“So, what do I do? What should I say?”
I open my mouth, but Steve puts his hand up. “Act normal. Tell her you want to talk. Ask if you two can meet.”
“What if she suspects something? Doesn’t believe me—?”
“You make her fucking believe you!” My heart hammers in my chest. I want to rip the phone out of his hand and threaten that bitch’s life.
He dials and places the call on speaker. It rings a few times and goes to voicemail.
“She ignored your call. Call her back.” He does, and she sends him to voicemail again. “Again,” I say. The phone rings two times and—
“Christopher, hey!”
Christopher freezes. I raise my hand to snap him out of his haze. “Uh. . . hey. I’ve been calling you.”
“You have? I’ve been kind of busy.”
“Yeah, I figured. I haven’t heard from you. I was worried.” He looks at us for direction. He’s going to fuck this up. I motion for him to keep going. “It’s just. . . I know I said some awful things to you, and I’ve felt like shit. I made a mistake.”
There’s a pause, and I lean in, hoping to hear some sort of background noise that will give away her location.
“What do you mean you made a mistake?” she asks.
“Keep talking,” Steve mouths.
“I can’t stop thinking about you. Us. I shouldn’t have let us go. You mean everything to me.” Christopher clenches his eyes shut. “I never wanted it to be Makayla. It’s you I want.” As much as I hate the fucker, I can tell it pains him to say those words.
“Really?” Her tone is filled with promise. “What changed your mind?”
“I—I—Rebecca, where are you?” He’s met with silence. Fuck, she knows something’s up. There was too much hesitation after his question. The sound of a barking dog echoes in the distance. “Rebecca—” The line goes dead.
“Fuck!” I holler. “She can be anywhere. She knows something’s up. She can be—”
“The barking dog,” her ex starts. “We hate that dog. The owners leave him outside day and night, and all he does is bark.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The dog. She’s at my house.”
Makayla
Jenny ends the call, her face blank. Something didn’t go her way. I pray that doesn’t mean anything bad for me. She looks down at me, tossing the phone on the bed. “What did you do? When was the last time you spoke to Christopher? Does he know about me? Tell me!” She leans over and rips off the tape.