Tears blur my vision.
I turn. I walk. I shut his door behind me.
And when I reach my apartment, I step inside and close the door, then collapse against it, sliding down to the floor, heart in my throat, eyes wide, hands shaking.
The realization of what I just walked in on hits me all at once.
Chapter 35
Nathan
I’m back at Walmart. The fluorescent lights make everything look sickly.
Too bright. Too clean. Too normal. I’m halfway down an aisle I don’t belong in when I see him.
A man—mid-thirties, maybe. Big shoulders, ball cap pulled low, stubble that looks like it’s been there for days. He moves like he doesn’t want to be seen, but he’s not good at it. He keeps glancing over his shoulder. Not like someone who’s lost.
Like someone who’s checking for witnesses.
He’s standing in front of the little girls’ section.
Pink. Purple. Polka dots. Tiny jackets with glittery zippers. Socks so small they look like they’d fit in the palm of my hand.
He picks up a shirt. Holds it at arm’s length. Studies it.
Then he drops it into his cart like it’s nothing.
Like it doesn’t mean anything.
My thoughts go dark.
My body reacts before my brain catches up—muscles going hard, blood rushing, the air turning thin.
No.
No, no, no.
I watch his cart roll forward. A pair of leggings. A hoodie. A package of hair ties—a pack of underwear—small enough that it makes my vision blur for a second.
I can’t hear anything except the pounding in my ears.
He turns down another aisle, and I follow. Not close enough to be obvious. Close enough that if he looks back, he’ll feel it.
My fingers curl into fists. My mind starts pulling threads. He pays. Then he heads for the front entrance.
I follow him out into the parking lot.
Rain streaks the pavement. The air smells like wet asphalt and exhaust.
He stops at a car.
And my heart slams so hard it almost hurts. That’s it. That’s the car from the video. Not similar. Not close.
It’s the exact one
My hands are shaking when I get into my own car. I don’t think. I don’t hesitate.
I follow.
