Page 15 of I Know Your Secret
Thinking of Jason only makes me grateful he’s not on the list of men connected to me who are now dead. Part of me feels so shitty for their deaths because while I’m an interesting character to go on a date with, I know I don’t deserve the love or comfort they offered. So, I never spoke to them beyond the nights I met with them.
Thinking about Brent, I genuinely hope my blocking his number and never speaking to him were enough for my stalker to realize he’s not a threat. Envisioning his eyes wide open and his body lifeless and cut to bits sends my stomach churning, and I race for my bathroom, nearly losing every bit of soup Allison coaxed me to eat last night.
She stayed over, which was shocking because she hates acknowledging there’s anything beyond the city limits. Shedoesn’t like the reminder that she stayed in Georgia because then she’d have to facewhyshe did.
“Alright, I’m headed to work. You going to be alright?” Allison asks, popping into the bathroom, where I’m leaning over the sink, trying to breathe through the swells of nausea battering my stomach.
“I’m alright. Thank you for staying.”
“Let me know when you’re ready to go to the police. We can’t let this psycho have this much control of your life, G. And none of this is your damned fault, nor do you deserve it, so get that out of your head right now.”
I grin, realizing how well she knows me, even if I disagree that I don’t deserve it.
“Have a good day.” I hug her tight, inhaling her Chanel perfume before pulling her back by her shoulders and giving her a once-over. “You have Bear hair all over you.”
She shrugs with a rueful smile. “I let him sleep in the bed with me. He was relentless about snuggling. He’s the only man who loves me right.”
I laugh, and it sounds foreign to my ears.
I hear Allison pull away as I finish getting ready for work. I grab my water bottle, a protein bar, and a speckled banana to eat on the way in and head out the door, locking it behind me as Bear watches enviously.
Guilt washes through me as I realize I haven’t taken him to the dog park in weeks, not since the notes started appearing more frequently and starting to turn up inside the house.
Once in the car, with all my stuff in the passenger seat, I give my house one more longing look as I realize every bit of my illusion of safety truly is shattered. It used to be my haven, the place I hated to leave.
Now, I long to be in the presence of others, where I feel safe.
I notice something on my bedroom window, tilting my head and squinting as if it’ll zoom the image.
It’s a handprint.
There’s no note attached that I can see from here, and I’m not going any closer to finding out, but I dial the local P.D., instantly hopeful whoever this is got sloppy and left behind a full print for them to work with.
I shoot a text to Melody that I’m going to be late, to which she picks on me about staying out too late, like I do to her each time she’s running behind in the morning.
Little does she know, I’m running behind because my entire life is falling apart, all because ten years ago, I didn’t stop and wasn’t fast enough to outrun karma.
An hour later, Officer George is finishing up his report, and I’m chewing on the outside of my finger, now red and puffy from my mutilation. They keep sending the same officer; that can’t be a coincidence. Is he the only one in the area or the only one willing to take the call?
“I got the full handprint lifted. I can’t believe he left it behind. Whoever it is, is very cocky,” he tells me.
I notice that this time, there’s no exasperation in his tone. He believes me.
It has my stomach uncoiling a fraction. “Do you think you’ll be able to identify who it is with that?”
“As long as he’s in the nationwide database, we will be.”
A person like this must have been arrested for something at some point, so I nod before thanking him for his time and effort. It eats at me that I don’t tell the officer that I suspect this man is killing the men I’m dating, but I don’t want to be the one he pins for everything. He only just started to believe me.
Though part of me knows I deserve to have Officer George throw the fucking book at me for what I did ten years ago, so that it would be my just desserts.
When I get on the road to work, I’m more confident now that whoever this is will be found out because of their sloppy move to stake a claim over me, which is what Officer George thought the handprint was all about. They were claiming me as theirs.
My phone goes off with a text chime, and I realize I never told Melody I was on my way to work. She’s probably worried.
Who am I kidding? She’s probably kicked back, reading on her Kindle.
I grab it, breaking my hands on the wheel, eyes on the road rules, just this once.
