Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
It was pitch-black outside, but I could see porch lights in the distance.
I rushed down the steps as my hands folded the chain into one thicker weapon, then turned, and whipped it with all my strength, catching him across the face, but not getting him on the ground, not slowing him down.
He could feel me slipping away.
Close.
I was so close.
And he knew that he’d never get me a third time.
Not now that I’d seen his face.
He couldn’t let me go again.
And he was coming at me like that, seemingly blind to the pain even as I saw the skin redden and start to swell across his cheek.
I tried to strike again, but he grabbed the chain.
I was quick enough to drop it, so he couldn’t use it against me, but my only choice was to turn and run.
But he was bigger.
Longer-legged.
Faster.
I felt the hand grab my upper arm as I reached the mailbox at the end of the driveway.
He whipped me back as I sucked in a breath to scream.
And it was right then as I looked at him that I finally remembered.
How I knew him.
Where I knew him from.
My stomach plummeted, and my breath rushed out of me.
Soundless.
It wasn’t long.
But long enough for him to gain control, to place his bloodied hand around my throat, closing in hard, cutting off my air supply, making it impossible to scream as he started to drag me.
I walked backward with him for a moment before I remembered.
Dead weight.
My entire body dropped, removing his hand from my throat, allowing me to suck in a greedy breath, even as his other hand lost me as well.
I scrambled forward on all fours, a position that forced him to lean over to grab me again.
I flew upward, catching his chin with the back of my head.
Pain ricocheted through my skull, but I didn’t slow.
I rushed around him, as my hand went to my pocket, grabbing the shoelace, wrapping it around my hands, and throwing it around his throat.
I used every bit of strength, fear, and rage in me to pull, forcing him downward, giving me more leverage.
I heard strange, wet, choking sounds as his hands grabbed at the laces, at my hands, scratching the hell out of the backs of my hands.
But I didn’t let go.
I couldn’t let go.
Not until…
The lights came flying down the street.
Red and blue.
Half a dozen of them.
I was so in shock that I didn’t even hear the sirens until I saw the police cars pulling to a stop.
Doors opened.
Men rushed out.
Guns raised.
“Wells,” I cried, releasing my attacker, and stumbling back, then rushing forward to him.
I had no idea as I threw myself into Wells’s arms if The Silent Sadist was alive or dead.
It didn’t matter.
All that mattered was that I survived.
And Wells came to save me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Detective Wells Vaughn
My stomach knotted as I pulled down her street and saw her car in the driveway.
With another one beside it.
Trunk open.
A man standing there.
I flew into the driveway, not even cutting the engine, my hand going toward my gun.
Before I saw the bags in the guy’s hands.
Right.
Yeah.
Groceries.
I felt some of the tension falling away as I gave the guy a distracted Hello. I made my way toward the front door, eager to just get my eyes on Mari again, knowing I had two whole days alone with her ahead of me, and really fucking excited about that.
When I reached the front door, the knob didn’t turn in my hand.
Smart girl.
Raising my hand, I knocked.
And again.
And again.
In the driveway, the delivery guy took a picture, and was making his way toward his car.
“Mari!” I called, concern rising again as I reached for my phone, dialing her number in case she was feeling too paranoid to come check the door.
But the phone sound wasn’t coming from the house.
It was coming from her car.
I rushed toward it, and that was where I found not only her phone, but her purse.
And her keys.
“Fuck!” I yelled, hanging up, and calling the station instead as I rushed back to my car, looking for my flashlight, praying for a clue.
I started to relay the information to dispatch when my flashlight moved over the driveway.
And the light caught wet drops.
Stomach twisting, I squatted down, touching one of the drops with the back of my knuckle.
Red.
Blood.
Her blood.
“Fuck,” I growled again, head on a swivel, looking for some clue, some sign of what had happened so quickly.
“Wells, it’s Gawen,” a voice said in my ear. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“She has cameras,” I said, looking at them. “If we can get the company to give us access…”
“On it,” he said. “Anything else?”
“Not yet,” I said, looking around again, seeing the neighbor’s floodlight over the garage turn on as he walked out. “Get on this,” I demanded, voice rough with emotion as I tucked my phone away, and ran toward the neighbor as I reached for my badge, something I always carried on me when I was armed.