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I scream again and again. I scream until my voice gets dry, and my throat hurts.
I'm alone, probably in the middle of nowhere, tied to a chair.
How did I get here?
He took me.
The deliveryman that came to my motel room. No, wait a minute. That wasn’t a deliveryman.
This is all because I went to the hospital with that file folder.
The guy on the steps was right. The case is getting me in trouble.
But how could I not go to Somerset and confirm the information about Cynthia after seeing her so many times with Cain?
And then there was the paperwork . . .
The folder.
After their mother disappeared, the state had both Abbott boys see a psychiatrist for counseling. There was no information on North aside from the notes with his doctor, but his brother, Stone, was committed for a short time based on his mood swings. They suspected him of having a breakdown, or so the file stated. He was sent away for two weeks.
But he was immediately released when his two weeks were up.
None of this material makes any sense.
For the weeks he was away, North was sent to a foster home. Since his brother was declared okay, they suspected Stone of having an addictive disorder, schizoid personality disorder, borderline personality disorder, and bipolar disorder. But in the end, Stone was sent home.
What happened then—I found out from my research back at the motel—was a very young North moved back into his family home and was raised by his older brother, Stone.
As I’m processing all the memories of what I read and found in my search, I hear a sound.
I whirl my head around and see that the door is open.
A man I don’t know enters the room and strides over to where I am until he is standing before me. He leans down so we’re face-to-face.
His head cocks to the side as he studies me. The moment he does, a gasp leaves my mouth. The puckered skin on his neck from a fire makes me draw back in fear.
“What about you does my brother find so interesting?” he taunts me.
Stone.
This is Stone.
He’s not dead.
A sick feeling weaves its way through me as I realize just what I’ve done.
How could I have ever doubted Cain?
How could I have ever believed Cain capable of gruesome murders?
Staring into his eyes is like looking into a dark and deep abyss. Endless and deadly.
He’s what nightmares are made of.
My body begins to shake, and Stone laughs right in my face. A strange laugh that makes chills run down my spine.
His hand reaches out, a pointer finger trailing across my throat. “So weak. So frail.”
He pulls back swiftly, removing his finger from my skin. I suck in a shuddering breath, lift my gaze, and look at him once again. That’s when I notice that his other hand is holding something.
In his grasp, he’s rolled up the file I had at the motel.
He uncurls it, removes the contents from within and discards the folder to the floor. He starts to pace in front of me. Skimming over the papers, he pays specific attention to my handwritten notes.
I can’t stop the way my body trembles.
He’s flipping through everything. The sound of crinkling paper fills the small space between our ragged breaths.
“Did this psychobabble bullshit keep you entertained?” he spits out. “None of that’s true.” He throws the diagnosis paper on the floor and steps on it. “And when I convinced them that I was perfectly fine, I was sent home.”
“Y-You murdered those women.”
“I was simply keeping my brother safe. He’s all I have.”
“How can you say that? They didn’t even know your brother. None of those women. You’re the very monster the doctors thought you were.”
“You know nothing. They were all like her. I had to kill them. I killed every last one of them to protect North.”
“Cain would have never wanted that.”
“That’s not his name,” he bellows. The sound of his loud voice bounces off the wooden walls of the shed. “You don’t know North. You don’t know what he wants. What he needs. He’s my brother. He’s MINE.” When he turns to face me, something about his face is different from when he first entered the room.
His face has somehow become distorted. His features hardened. His eyes are dark. He looks deadly, and the scary part . . . He looks just like Cain did that day. The day he stormed out of The Elysian restaurant.
He’s spiraling. But with Cain, I never felt scared.
Stone terrifies me.
And as he creeps toward me, the moonlight shines in from a small window, and something gleams on the table behind him. A knife.
“Now, we’re going to have some fun.”
45
Cain
Answer your phone. Answer your damn phone, Jim.
He doesn’t. Just like he didn’t the last time or the time before that.
I’m hauling ass, trying to get to Somerset, but I need Jim to answer the phone and tell me what the fuck is going on.
