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“This guy is fucking deranged,” Daya spits, picking up the box to inspect the hands closer. “Definitely Arch’s too. He’s got that stupid ass star tattoo on his thumb.”
I blink, curious how she even knows that, but still too much in shock to open my mouth and ask.
“There’s a note in here,” she mumbles, plucking out a piece of paper covered in blood. Carefully, she opens it. It takes her two seconds to read it before she’s sighing and handing it over.
Hesitantly, I reach out and grab the note by the corner that doesn’t have blood on it.
While I will enjoy punishing you for every time you call the police, let’s hold off this time. Wouldn’t want to have to hurt them next, little mouse.
Is this guy shitting me? He’s going to punish me? Don’t you think sending me fucking severed hands is punishment enough, asshole?
“He’s seriously going to threaten to kill a cop?” I hiss. Daya swallows, her eyes darting to the hands.
“I think you need to listen this time,” she says quietly. I look up at her, having come to the same conclusion. This guy is dangerous. Very dangerous.
As much as I want the police to handle this, there are two problems. I don’t have any faith whatsoever that they’d be able to catch the guy. And secondly, I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.
I don’t know if I will be able to bear it.
“I don’t know what to do, Daya,” I whisper, my voice cracking. Daya sets the box down and rushes to me, enveloping me in a tight hug.
“I have a friend coming over to help install the security cameras and alarm system. Listen, normally, I would say call the cops anyway. But I don’t know, Addie. You know how I feel about cops as it is, but I truly don’t believe they will be able to help you. I have some connections, and maybe we can hire a personal bodyguard or something.”
I’m shaking my head before she can finish her last sentence. “So he can die, too?”
She gives me a droll look. “This isn’t just going to be some guy off the streets, Addie. Whatever you’re up against, they can’t be more badass than a trained killer, right?”
“Maybe,” I concede. “But I don’t know about any of that yet. Having a bodyguard follow me everywhere just makes me feel like a damsel in distress.”
I can tell by the look on her face that she thinks I’m being stupid. I mean, I do have a hand-chopping, possible murderer stalking me. But then what? I have some random guy following me around until my shadow is caught, and who knows if that’ll ever happen.
I grind my teeth, overwhelmed with frustration. I don’t want to live my life with an extra attachment—an extra limb. And in both scenarios, I have one. One is there to protect me, while the other is there to… I don’t know. Hurt me? Love me?
Either way, I don’t want either of them.
“Do you think Arch is dead?” I ask, failing to keep the tremble out of my voice.
She twists her lips. “I don’t know. It’s definitely a possibility. But it’s also possible he chopped off his hands and let him go as a warning. We won’t know until Arch either shows up… or doesn’t.”
I nod. “I’ll let you know about the bodyguard thing. Let’s just see how this alarm system thing works out first.”
“Okay, in the meantime, I’m going to dispose of these hands. I’ll be back in an hour, and then we’re getting hammered.”
My eyes widen. “Daya, you don’t have to do that. This is morbid enough, and I don’t want you to have to—"
The severity of her expression stops me short, my words trailing off.
“I see worse every day, Addie. Go inside, I’ll be back soon.”
Swallowing, I nod and turn towards my door, shooting one last lingering look at my best friend’s retreating form, wondering what the hell she’s involved in if she sees worse than chopped up body parts every day.
“They’re all dead.” The words are a bomb going off in my ear, like that judge in Law Abiding Citizen.
“What?”
“Arch's entire family was reported dead. His father, two brothers, an uncle, and two cousins. I don’t know the details because the crime was fucking smooth as hell. No witnesses. No evidence. Nothing.”
“Oh my God. Do you think it was the stalker?”
