“I’ll be right back, let me grab a couple things,” I told him, and I rushed back through the quiet house and into my old room, trying to keep my footsteps from banging through the house and waking Josiah and Carly. I grabbed my keys, phone, and wallet from the nightstand and slipped my feet into some sandals, didn’t take the time to change out of my sleep shorts and tee.
I was back at the door in less than two minutes.
Chris gave me a grateful smile. “Thank you for doing this, Frankie Leigh.”
I returned a wary one because I really didn’t think he should be thankin’ me.
Yes, I hoped his sister could find a way to heal.
To be well.
But I was no liar, and the truth was, I was doing this for Everett and Evan. “You can follow me over there.”
I hurried down the two steps to my car, and I backed out onto the street. Headlights lit behind me from where his car was parked, and I started toward home.
Home.
Knot in my throat, I told my phone to dial Seth. It was past midnight, and I cringed thinking about waking him, but he told us to call immediately if we had information.
It went to voicemail, so I left a message. “Hey, Seth. It’s Frankie Leigh. Could you give me a call as soon as you get a chance? Chris showed back up. Said he found his sister yesterday. He wants Evan to go and talk with her. He said he hadn’t heard from you, and well, I just . . . I wanted to let you know what was happening. We’re heading over to the new house right now. I’ll talk to you later.”
By the time I ended the call, I was already to the new neighborhood. I made the right and then the left, easing into the short driveway of the slumbering house.
All the lights dimmed.
Everything quiet and still.
Though that energy echoed back.
Alive and warm and inviting.
And I knew . . . I knew that this was where I belonged.
Cracking the door open to get out and getting ready to shut off the engine, I jumped when my phone started ringing through the speakers. Seth’s name lit on the dash. I quickly answered it. “Seth, hey.”
“Frankie,” he said, sounding out of breath. “Where are you?”
“We just got to the new house. I’m sitting out front in my car.”
“Do not get out,” he shouted.
“What?”
“Do not get out, Frankie. He is not who he said he is. I’ve been following a lead and I just got confirmation. Get as far away from him as you can.”
“Oh God, what?”
Panic kicked in, pulse pounding out of control, and I fumbled to get the door shut so I could lock it, so I could hang up and text Evan and pray he saw his phone light up so I could tell him not to open the door. To wait for Seth. That I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew help would be on its way.
But a hand was in the way of the door, forcing it open. Gasping, I fought to shut it, but he was too strong, and he was right there standing in it.
Chris grinning down.
But it wasn’t close to being that innocent smile he always wore.
It was . . . deranged.
Eyes wired.
He reached over and pushed the button to kill the engine and ripped my phone from my hand. He tossed it to the ground on the driveway. “You won’t be needing that.”
“Wh-wh-what are you doing? Who are you?”
“Get out, bitch.”
I felt the prick at my ribs.
The tip of a knife.
My hands started shaking uncontrollably. As uncontrollably as the words that were spilling from my mouth. “Please . . . don’t do this . . . I’ll give you anything.”
He laughed a menacing sound, and he forced me out of the car. He pulled my back against his chest, an arm locked around the front of me, his mouth at the back of my ear. “Sorry, gorgeous, but you don’t have a thing that I want. All except for your pathetic fiancé’s heart on a silver platter.”
Fear spiraled.
Sweat slicking my flesh.
Pulse thundering out of control.
“Please, I don’t know what you want, but I know you don’t want to do this.” The words tumbled out in a panicked plea, and I was dragging my feet, trying to slow him down. To distract him. To do anything to keep him from getting to that house.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the car he’d pulled in beside mine. Realized it was the same car I’d thought had been following me last week.
Panic pulsed, heart racing mad.
“Why are you doing this? Those messages . . . they were from you?” I guessed it was a tumble of confusion that came bleeding out.