Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Staring down at the weapon, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll kill Henry Little first chance I get.
My phone beeps with the new location, and I quickly update Hayden.
“The road leads past Trinity Academy. It’s mountain terrain,” Max says, having pulled up a map on his phone.
Placing the gun next to me on the seat, I shrug out of my jacket and roll up the sleeves of my dress shirt. Removing my tie, I toss it to the side and unbutton the top two buttons, hoping to breathe easier, but it doesn’t help.
Taking hold of the gun again, I close my eyes and pray we’re not too late.
Chapter 32
Jamie
“It’s time, little girl. It’s time.”
The words pour hot lava through my veins. For what feels like the hundredth time, I glance around the empty van, but I’m only surrounded by the white panels.
“There we go,” Henry says, his voice calm as he climbs into the back.
I turn my head, and the moment I lay eyes on him, my heartbeat speeds up, and my mind repels at being face to face with a killer.
I’m too scared to move, but I know I have to do something. My right hand is cuffed to the gate, separating the cab from the back of the van.
It happened so fast. Henry tazed, and cuffed me within seconds.
I push my body closer to the gate and away from him, keeping my eyes trained on Henry.
“Finally, we get to be alone.”
The shock of what’s happening is still vibrating through me, numbing my emotions.
Henry casually moves closer to me, and I instantly react by kicking at him.
“Now, now, I’m not going to kill you yet. I just want your phone,” he tsks.
Keep calm.
Think.
Okay, don’t antagonize him.
He moves slowly again, holding one hand up in the air while pulling my phone from my pocket with the other.
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I watch as he takes my phone apart, crushing the sim card under his heel. “Don’t want any visitors, now do we?”
A song plays softly from the cab, and it only increases the eeriness of being at the mercy of this man who seems utterly normal.
“Why did you listen to me?” he asks. “Why did you come to me? Now you’re never going to get away.”
Holy shit.
“I have people looking for me.” Why I chose to say that of all things and not demand that he lets me go, I don’t know.
It’s because I know Julian, Hayden, and Max won’t stop looking. They found me before. They will find me again. I have to believe that.
Ignoring my words, his smile widens for a moment. “You shouldn’t have come.” Letting out a sigh, he continues, “Why did you do such a stupid thing? You shouldn’t have come.”
I frown at the words, realizing he’s placing the blame on me.
Is he trying to ease his conscience?
Does he even have one?
“Why me?” I ask, needing to know why he’s intent on taking my life.
“You smiled at me,” he chuckles. There’s a caring look on his face as if we’re old friends. “You have a pretty face, and you smiled. How was I supposed to not react?”
My eyes lock on his, and I expected them to be vacant, or at least, to show some sign of insanity, but they are brown and just… normal.
When he moves again, I cower back against the gate, but instead of lunging at me, he makes himself comfortable, leaning back against the side panel. He folds his hands together on his lap and tilting his head, he again smiles at me.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
Clearing my throat, I hate that my voice is trembling as I ask, “What?”
“It was supposed to look like suicide, but your friends just couldn’t leave well enough alone.”
Is he referring to the night he cut my wrist?
I clear my throat and lifting my eyes from his hands, I bring them to his face. “Henry…”
“Mhhh… say my name again,” he interrupts me.
Uhm… okay?
“H-Henry,” I stammer as dread causes my throat to close. My breaths speed up until my mouth is bone dry. “What are you going to do to me?”
He takes a deep breath and first lets it out. Glancing at the panel opposite him, he thinks for a moment.
That’s a good sign, right? Maybe he hasn’t planned this through, and I have a chance of convincing him to let me go?
Before I can open my mouth to reason with him, he begins to talk, “The first time it happened… ah… I was twenty-three. Pretty, but not particularly pretty. Brown hair.” He tilts his head, his expression as if the memory is a fond one as he glances at my hair. “Passed out on the floor of the living room. It just happened that the girl was there when I felt it coming on. I closed the damper to the fireplace.”