What the hell happened to you, Jacob?
Well, if I needed more confirmation that this was his boat, these photos are it.
Since I'm already here, I decide to make the most of my criminal behavior and start opening the drawers and cupboards.
Do I feel bad about invading his privacy? Absolutely.
But does it stop me? Absolutely not.
There's not much of interest in the cupboards, just some food items, and bits and pieces. The drawers mostly have clothes in them, but when I get to the last one, I find a stationary type tray with some newspaper clippings in it.
Dropping to my knees, I start reading some of the headlines.
“TEEN CHARGED WITH RAPING 17-YEAR-OLD CLASSMATE”
“ALL EVIDENCE POINTS TO JACOB STARK”
“PARENT'S OUTRAGE OVER LATEST ATTACK AGAINST HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT”
“VICTIM IDENTIFIES JACOB AS ATTACKER IN LINE-UP”
“JACOB STARK PLEADS 'NOT GUILTY'”
“VICTIM'S PARENTS SEEK JUSTICE”
“LAWYER IN RAPE CASE SAYS 'NOT ENOUGH EVIDENCE'”
I scan over some of the articles, feeling more and more sick to my stomach as I go.
“Parents of Jacob Stark who once described him as a good, sweet kid, now shocked and disgusted by his actions.”
“Many can't believe he would do this.”
“Close friends say Jacob has liked victim, Jennifer Lapman, for years and that he made threats pertaining to her on the night of the incident.”
My gaze flicks back up to the wall at the photos. Something tells me that he doesn't speak to any one of them anymore. Or rather that theydon't speak to him.
A thump and then a scuffle from above me on the boat has me letting out a yelp and throwing the clippings back into the drawer before slamming it shut and scurrying back on the floor.
Shit, shit, shit!
I restlessly run my thumbs over my fingertips while looking around me for a possible hiding spot but come up empty. There's absolutely no place I could remain hidden down here.
What the hell was I thinking coming onto his boat?
There are a few more sounds from above, and then the engine is starting.
Oh my god, I'm going to be trapped on a boat with him out on the ocean.
Before I think too closely about the fact that it's not fear I feel exactly, I realize we haven't moved yet. Maybe there's a chance I can bolt up the stairs and jump onto the dock before he takes off? At this point, I'm willing to try regardless of if he sees me or not.
Blowing out a flustered breath, I get to my feet. Adrenaline begins filling my veins, urging me to move.
“Okay,” I murmur to myself.
I start running for the stairs, climbing the narrow and steep steps as quickly as I can.
But I'm too late.
