Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“But you didn’t frame him.”
His broad-carved face shines with confidence. “Yeah, but they caught that other guy and everything worked out.”
“Why kill Luna?”
“That little bitch figured it out. I ran into her and the way she stared at me. I just knew she knew.”
I study the maniacal man in front of me. He’s no longer the partner I worked with day in, day out. The murders have driven him crazier by the minute.
I can’t hide my disgust. “How did they ever let you be a cop?”
He laughs. “I even failed my psych evaluation.”
“I believe it,” I say under my breath. I glance out the window once more, trying to swallow the despair in my throat.
“No one’s coming to save you,” he says.
All my muscles go rigid. “Maybe I don’t need saving.”
He appears amused by this. “When I’m through with you, there’ll be nothing left to save, sweetheart.”
Goosebumps erupt over my skin, and I wish I could punch this freak square in his jaw. “We’ll see about that.” I know I should stop taunting him, but he brings out the worst side of me. My gaze stumbles around the room he’s holding me in, searching for escape, determination clenching my jaw. On the night table, in a sea of mail and papers, is something shiny and silver. Possibly a letter opener.
I have to get it.
He needs to leave the room again.
“Did you hear that?” I ask as pulse-pounding uncertainty courses through me.
Please work. I say the silent prayer, hoping he falls for the decoy.
“There it is again,” I say, peering out the large window. “I heard something out there.”
“Nice try,” Guy says, but then he turns his head, blinking in confusion. He takes a tentative step closer to the window like he also hears something outside.
Please leave.
I pretend to listen as well.
He pivots and steps out of the room. In a flash, I grab the letter opener and hide it under the long sleeve of my shirt.
Guy returns seconds later, aiming his gun back at me.
“You’ll never get away with this,” I tell him.
“I already have.”
“You kill me and Brandon will no longer look guilty for the crimes.”
Guy laughs. “I don’t plan on killing you. Not yet anyway. I plan on using you as bait.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “No one even knows I’m here.”
His eyes are hooded like those of a hawk. “Well, then I guess I'll kill you.”
As casually as I can, I ask, “Tell me more about your father.”
“I don’t want to talk about that asshole.” He levels me with a glare, his guard appearing stronger than before.
“Tell me about Devereaux. What do you plan on doing to him?” I try to get him to crack. Yet, he’s good. Even in his apparent unstable state, he’s still very aware of what’s going on.
He paces the floor, pulling at his dark strands with his free hand. Then, he stops, his face growing serious as his expression stills. “I’m going to kill him.”
“What about Greer? Was it you who attacked her?”
“That bitch deserves to die.” He resumes pacing the floor. “It was so easy to set up the bomb in her office.”
I step closer to him, looking for any chance to attack.
He continues gleefully telling me about the type of bomb he used and how no one even suspected him, and I keep moving closer to him.
“Wow, you were pretty smart to do all that.” Another inch closer.
Abruptly, he sits on the bed, snatching my wrists and bringing me down with him.
“I was supposed to have his life,” he whispers, his voice mirroring his apparent anguish.
“I know you were,” I say, easing the letter opener down.
Guy lowers his head slightly, and as we sit on the bed, side by side, I raise the letter opener and bring it down, pushing it through the fleshy part of his thigh until I hit bone. He lunges forward, screaming in pain, and I take off.
My flip flops fly off as I hightail it out of the master suite, running as fast as I can to the kitchen.
There’s a knife block on the counter, and I grab the biggest one on my way out the back door.
I can still hear Guy howling at the top of the stairs when I race into the darkness. I sprint for the forest, hoping the night hides me as I race through the yard.
My breath comes out in quick pants as I run, clutching the knife to my chest, finally making it into the forest’s protection.
I hear the leaves crunching underfoot as he tries to catch up with me. The sound is uneven, like he’s limping.
“Chloe, you bitch,” he calls out.
And then, suddenly, it’s quiet. The only sounds I hear are the cicadas chirping along the lake’s shore.
My feet burn from the ground’s weapons. Every rock, shrub, and thorn has pierced my bare feet, making it harder to run.