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‘‘Are you sure it was him?’’
‘‘Honestly, no,’’ I sighed out. ‘‘Do you think I’m crazy?’’
Sierra pondered on the question briefly. ‘‘No, not crazy. I think you went through a shock when you saw him at prison, and now that he’s been sending you letters after he’s escaped, you have every right to be terrified. But I still think you should’ve gone to the police as soon as it started.’’
I couldn’t go.
Sierra read a few letters, but not the one where he spoke of her safety. It would freak her out, and she’d definitely go to the police. That was something I couldn’t risk. Who was to say that he won’t just kill both of us? We’re young; we haven’t even lived.
It’d been a week since I thought I saw him in front of the apartment complex. His letters continued to arrive daily, but not a single one spoke of the incident. That reassured me that it was nothing but a fragment of my imagination, and I’d like it to remain like that.
‘‘Would you like to go for a walk today?’’ Sierra suggested.
I glanced out of the window. ‘‘I don’t know.’’
‘‘The snow isn’t too bad, and it’s not windy. It’ll help you to leave this place, and I’ll carry pepper spray on me. You take a knife.’’
Going outside while a serial killer was on the loose was the stupidest thing I’d done so far.
I was keeping up with the news. He was seen at a gas station across the city, and that made me feel at ease. However, he’d yet to be caught. The car seen on the security camera footage was disposed of not too long after, and the cops haven’t been able to trace him.
They sucked at their job. Actually sucked.
Aaron Hotchner would’ve caught him within the first week of his escape.
‘‘All right.’’ I caved. ‘‘Let’s go to the bakery down the street, I’ve been craving their bagels.’’
Sierra was happy to oblige. We got dressed warmly, and this time, I put on my boots. These ones were waterproof and so fucking comfortable to walk it. My feet felt like they were on clouds. We walked next to each other, watching as the day faded away.
The snow wasn’t too rough on us, only a few snowflakes fell here and there. It was mid-January, and I was surprised it hadn't snowed more. Given the time of the year, and how cold the past two months had been, I expected at least two snowstorms.
‘‘I did something,’’ Sierra announced just as we left the building. ‘‘You won’t like it, but I’m just so...concerned about you.’’
‘‘What did you do?’’
She avoided eye contact like the plague. I was getting concerned. She wasn’t the one to act rashly, and her worry was valid; yet I couldn’t figure out what exactly she had done. Sierra kept silent for a while, as if to torment me.
She cleared her throat finally, and spoke. ‘‘This morning, I went to the police. I told them everything and gave them a couple of letters as an example. They said that the handwriting is a match.’’
Blood chilled in my veins, and my walking came to a stop. She was in front of me by a few steps, before she paused, turned around and gave me the most apologetic look I’d ever seen on her face.
‘‘No,’’ I mumbled, eyes widening as I tried to comprehend and fully understand her words. ‘‘Why the fuck would you go behind my back and do that? Did you think I was being quiet for shits and giggles? There are things at stake, Sierra!’’
It turned into a screaming match in the middle of the street.
‘‘Yeah, one of them being your life!’’ she yelled back.
‘‘The other one is yours, you fucking moron!’’ In frustration, I ran my fingers through my hair.
Sierra’s anger vanished. It morphed into confusion, before horror filled her face as she paled. ‘‘What?’’ She stumbled over the word. ‘‘Why didn’t you tell me?’’
‘‘To protect you!’’ I yelled. ‘‘And now, he will kill both of us, Sierra.’’
Sierra fell silent. No words were spoken for a long time. Just like I took the time to process, she tried to understand the weight behind my admission. Now, she was fully alert, fully aware that she fucked up.
‘‘Fuck,’’ she was infuriated. ‘‘What now?’’
I shook my head. ‘‘What did the cops tell you?’’
