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August 18th
9:52 P.M.
Agape Candella thought she heard something behind her.
Footsteps maybe?
Spinning around, she scanned the parking lot but couldn’t see anything. Methodically her eyes searched every shadow, every dark corner, behind the dim shape of every car. Again, she couldn’t see anything, but that didn’t help the hairs on the back of her neck relax.
Her best friend’s words echoed in her head. Summer had offered to walk her to her car, but Aggie had declined. They’d had dinner at the same restaurant once a week every week for the six years they had worked together, and every one of those times she had walked to her car on her own afterward. She had never before had a problem, but tonight something felt off, and now she was wishing she’d accepted Summer’s offer.
Something had felt off all day.
The feeling of being watched had plagued her since she had climbed into her car this morning to drive to work.
She was being silly, she was sure she was. Who would want to follow her around? There was nothing special about her, she was just a regular woman. She went to work, hung out with friends, went to the gym, and spent time with her family. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would be interested enough in her to follow her from the restaurant to her car.
And yet the feeling of eyes on her didn’t dissipate.
Shrugging off her paranoia, maybe she was just more tired than she thought, she headed for her car. She was a social worker, and some cases were particularly rough, including the one that had occupied most of her day. That was probably all it was, lack of sleep over the Odlemyer case was leaving her jumpy and on edge.
Aggie was four cars away from her own when she heard it again.
Footsteps.
She whirled around so quickly she almost stumbled, but no one was there. Still, she could have sworn she’d seen a shadow move behind one of the nearby cars.
Uncertainty coursed through her. Was she really being followed or was lack of sleep making her imagine things? Electing to play it safe—her keys were already in her hand, and her car was close—Aggie reached into her bag, searching for her cell. She’d call Summer, maybe if there really was someone lurking in the parking lot and they heard her talking on the phone they'd just leave her alone.
She dropped her gaze to her phone and almost instantaneously realized that it had been a mistake.
In a blur, someone flew at her.
Something glinted in the dull light from the scattered lampposts.
A knife.
On autopilot, her self-defense training kicked in.
As the blade came down at her, Aggie stepped sideways, raising an arm to block the knife. As intended, the side of her arm missed the knife and connected with the man’s wrist, knocking his arm sideways. Her attacker obviously hadn’t expected her to fight back. Taking advantage of his momentary surprise, she raised her knee, connecting firmly with his groin. The man grunted in pain, and Aggie turned to flee, heading for the safety of the busy street.
She didn’t get far.
A fist slammed into the center of her back, sending her sprawling to the ground. Caught off guard, she didn’t have time to execute a proper fall and landed awkwardly on her hands. She heard a snap and pain rocketed up her arm, Aggie knew she’d broken her wrist. The momentum from the hard shove she’d been given kept her moving and her face plowed into the asphalt skidding along it and taking off several layers of skin.
Before she had a chance to get back on her feet or even to start crawling, rough hands were on her, flipping her onto her back. A man straddled her stomach, his knees digging painfully into her hips, and all sorts of horrifying scenarios flooded her mind, most of them involving rape, all of them involving death. Is that what this man intended to do to her?
“Thatreallyhurt,” he growled.
Aggie looked up at the man’s face and felt fear for the first time. Adrenalin had masked her terror as she focused on fighting for her life, but now that she was trapped and injured, her adrenalin ebbed a little as shock and horror took its place. She tried to get free but the man on top of her was like a mountain, she didn’t stand a chance. Instead, she put her energy into memorizing his face so that in the event she made it through this alive, she had something concrete to give the police. He was Asian, he appeared to be about forty, and he was wearing a jacket, which was odd given that it was still hot out.
He raised the knife high above his head, and Aggie knew he didn’t want to rape her, he just wanted to kill her.
One of his hands wrapped around her neck, squeezing tightly.
She clawed at it. Desperately. Trying to decide which was worse, being strangled or being stabbed.
“Hey.”
