Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
And, sometimes, just run. Leaving absolutely everything I had in the world—save for my go-bag in my car—and hit the road.
When I was on top of my game, I could spot him before he saw me seeing him. It allowed me to slip away casually, so he didn’t try to chase me.
The key was to get away as quickly as possible and go as far as I could.
I’d been disappearing for years.
He hadn’t gotten this close to me in ages.
I’d gotten distracted.
Sloppy.
And I was going to pay for that.
How much, though, was still up to me.
Because he didn’t have me.
Not yet.
I still had a chance.
If I could just scramble back, get out the back door, run through the yard, get out of the gate…
I could, what?
Run away from him?
Maybe that would have been an option when he was much heavier, a lot less fit. But now? He seemed like he’d been taking care of himself. And I hadn’t run in months.
“Go ahead,” he said as I sucked in a deep breath. Because I did have one thing. I had a neighbor who could hear me scream. Maybe they wouldn’t come running. But they could call the police. It was a small town with nothing going on. The station was close. It wouldn’t take long for help to arrive. “Scream all you want,” he added.
There was something cocky in his voice that had my blood running cold. First, because it wasn’t something I’d ever heard before. He’d been shy, unsure, stammering, quiet. Second, because he sounded very sure of something, like he knew something I didn’t know.
“The brownies were delicious, by the way. Not in my diet, but I made an exception.”
No.
Oh, God, no.
He was the neighbor? With all the hammering, sawing, sanding, nailing? Day in and day out?
Was it some sort of psychological torture? Was he trying to make me sleepless? Too slow and exhausted to run for my life when he finally decided to make his move?
And how, how, could I have missed it?
I hadn’t even been the least bit suspicious that I’d never laid eyes on my neighbor, never stopped to consider how weird that was.
What the hell was wrong with me?
How could I let this happen?
No.
Dammit.
No.
I wasn’t going to take on the blame.
I’d done that once.
I’d made myself sick with it.
This wasn’t on me.
This was on him.
And his sick mind.
I knew what he’d done. He’d watched me for a while. Maybe even from the empty house across the street. He got to know my schedule, making sure he knew any of the variables.
Only then did he move in, did he start doing whatever it was he was doing next door. Planning. Plotting. Watching.
God, how often was he watching me?
When I was outside with Trix, for sure. When I was working outdoors.
But did he also look in my windows?
More horrific, did he put holes in the walls I hadn’t noticed? Had he broken in and planted hidden cameras?
In my bedroom?
In the bathroom?
Horror, cold and slimy, spread across my skin, sank inward.
You’d think you could get used to that invasion. But I never could. It was a violation each time.
“I can scream with you, if you want,” he went on. Then he sucked in a breath and did just that.
Jesus.
He was insane.
I mean, he’d always been warped. You had to be to do what he did. Especially for this long. But this was the first time he seemed genuinely unhinged.
I was glad I couldn’t see his eyes in the dark because I was pretty sure they might freeze me on the spot if I did.
For the first time in my life, I was thankful for the shadows all around me as I finally found the strength to push myself off the floor.
My heart ached at the idea of leaving Trix there on the floor all by herself. But she was alive. Breathing. She would come to. I hoped.
But I couldn’t help her, get her to a vet, if I was kidnapped or dead.
I had to save myself to save her.
I ran my fingers over her soft fur one last time, then I threw myself backward, scuttling across the floor, making my way toward one of my drawers.
“Are you looking for the knives?” he asked, voice chilling.
I knew before I even put my hand in the drawer that it was empty, that he’d been prepared for this.
I would bet good money that my meat tenderizer, my rolling pin, and my large pepper grinder were all also missing. Hell, probably even my pots and pans.
But this was a house under constant renovation. I had tools everywhere. Some of them not even sitting out where he could easily find them to stash them somewhere.
I’d been trying to fix a lower cabinet near the sink. But Trix had interrupted me by bringing one of her stuffies over to play with. I’d left the screwdriver there. And since I had a dozen others, I’d never needed to go back for it.