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Wilder bares his teeth like a rabid dog.
“Pull up today’s footage of the front door,” Hawk says, getting us back on track before Wilder can completely derail us with his tantrum.
Obeying, Kai pulls up the video feed for the front door, and zips back over the day. I watch cars and the occasional person walk past, until the entire screen goes fuzzy.
“What the hell?” Kai mumbles under his breath.
“What just happened?” I question, staring at the white noise as he taps on the keyboard.
“The camera went out.”
“What do you mean it went out?” I frown.
“Someone must have interfered with the signal. It stopped recording.”
“So we don’t have anything that can identify this guy?” Wilder asks, sounding furious, although I’m willing to bet he’s still pissed over his invasion of privacy, rather than the fact we still have no idea who my stalker is.
Kai shakes his head. “No. They must have had a signal jammer.”
“But how did they know we even had cameras?” Hawk argues. “You wouldn’t see them unless you knew to look for them.”
Kai’s only response is a shrug of his shoulders. “Either they knew to look, or they brought a jammer just in case.”
With a sigh, he closes the laptop, and as if lured in by its ominous presence, my gaze zeros in on the box sitting on the kitchen table. I’m not the only one. All of us stare at it for a long moment, no one daring to move closer as if sensing the life-altering secrets hiding inside.
Eventually, Kai approaches and eases off the lid. I don’t even realize I’ve moved, but the next thing I know, I’ve slid off the bar stool and stepped toward the table for a closer look.
Hawk’s arm flies out to hold me back, and I stop, leaning forward as far as I can in his grip to get a better look at what’s inside.
Kai pauses with the lid in his hand as he stares at the item on top before slowly resuming lowering the lid onto the table and carefully reaching into the box.
“W-what’s in it?” I ask, not wanting to know butneedingto know. I don’t see any blood or body parts, not that that necessarily means anything good.
Kai shakes his head, not once lifting his attention from the box. When he doesn’t explain any further, I push against Hawk’s arm and march closer. The movement draws Kai’s attention, and he immediately yells out, “No! Hawk, stop her!”
Hawk jumps into action, wrapping his thick muscular arms that may as well be steel bands around my waist and hauling me back against his chest.
“What?!” I cry out, fighting against his hold while yelling at Kai. “What is it? Is it about me? Is it from the stalker?”
“You don’t wanna see this, Em, trust me.” Kai’s cryptic words only make me more curious, and I fight harder against Hawk.
“NO! You can’t keep this from me, Kai! This is my life! My livelihood! My fucking sanity that this asshole is messing with. If it’s from him, I deserve to know what is in it.”
Kai finally lifts his usually emerald, green eyes to mine. Today they are clouded over, appearing more jaded than normal. Something about them gives me pause, but before I can rethink my decision, he gives a slow nod for Hawk to let me go.
Slowly, as though reluctant to do so, Hawk loosens his hold, and I slide out of his arms and move toward Kai. Not that Hawk lets me go far. He remains on my right side, and surprisingly, I notice Wilder move to my left, the three of us approaching the table as one united front. Their silent support bolsters me and gives me the courage to face whatever is in that box—so long as it doesn’t contain body parts belonging to someone else I care about.
My mouth is bone dry, and something hard and unyielding sits in the back of my throat as I approach, yet I refuse to cower. Refuse to let this psycho take one more thing from me.
As I reach the table, Kai pushes the box toward me, and I swallow nervously as I meet his gaze one final time, reading his silent plea for me not to look and ignore it before lowering my eyes to the contents of the box.
The first thing I see makes the breath stall in my chest. My eyes bounce all over the picture staring up at me, seeing it but unable to truly process its significance. It was a ghostly pale face, smeared with streaks of red and offset by dark brown eyes that would usually look at me with such warmth and a type of kindness I just wanted to fall into. Except, in the image, those eyes are listless. Vacant. Dead. They're dead becauseheis dead.
“Richard.” His name is no louder than a whisper as I continue to stare at the picture. I should be screaming or crying orsomething. I know I should, but I’m not. I can’t. I’m entirely fucking numb.
Kai clears his throat, but still, I don’t look away. “There’s, uh, more.” He says it as kindly as one can, and I simply nod, unable to respond in any other way. “I’m sorry, Em.”
Another paralyzed nod. I can’t stop looking at his face and wondering what his last moments were like. Was he in pain? Did he die quickly? God, I hope so. I can’t bear the thought of him being held captive for the last two weeks only to be brutally murdered. A single tear slips down my cheek, the only emotion I’m capable of, but I make a promise to Richard—and to myself—that when this is all over, I will have a proper burial for him. He was a good man and a great friend. He deserved far, far more from this life than he was given, and for that, I am truly sorry.
