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The man said it imploringly like he truly meant it.
She had gotten enough messages from him to know that he was obsessed with her. He believed that she reciprocated his feelings, he believed they were in love and that he would come riding in to carry her off into the sunset.
She just didn't know how he had found her.
Nor did she know what her best move was.
How should she play this, so she walked out of it alive?
Should she pretend that she reciprocated his feelings until she could find a way to run? Should she risk screaming for help and hope that he couldn’t really hurt anyone? Her sister-in-law was an FBI agent and was just yards away inside the house, if she screamed then Chloe would surely have Fin call for help while she came out to investigate. But could she risk her stalker hurting or killing her brother’s wife?
No.
She couldn’t.
Samara preferred the stalker got his hands on her, even if that meant he would kill her rather than risk anyone else getting hurt.
“Please,” she said, holding up her hands, palms up, trying to show the man that she didn't pose any threat. Who was she kidding? She didn't pose any real threat to him. She was unarmed, he had a gun and an obsession that had led him to track her down at her brother’s house. “Let’s just talk about this.”
“It’s okay.” He smiled at her. “I have a place to go. A place I got just for you.”
She fought to keep the fear off her face, she didn't want to make him angry. The only thing keeping her alive was that he thought she was in love with him. If he realized that she had no idea who he was or where she had come into contact with him, and that he filled her with fear and anger for intruding on her life, he would lose it.
Samara wasn't sure she had realized the true extent of his obsession until this very moment. Knowing he had prepared a place to take her made her see how thoroughly he had thought this all through. He truly believed that they were in love.
“Let’s go,” he said. Reaching out, he wrapped a large hand around her arm and tried to pull her along.
Her heart raced in her chest like it was doing what her feetwanted to do but were too afraid to. Her hands were sweaty, and although she knew she shouldn’t, she dug her heels in and refused to be moved, she wasn't quite ready to accept this was over yet. Once he had her in the car her chances of surviving dropped dramatically.
“Come on.” He yanked her harder. He was bigger than her and was able to pull her along even though she didn't want to go. He began to pull her toward a car a little further down the block, parked just four cars behind hers. He must have been following her.
She had reported every instance of contact he had made with her.
Every email.
Every message.
Every time he tried to connect with her on social media.
But no one cared.
It wasn't a crime to email someone, or follow them on Instagram, or send them a friend request on Facebook.
It wasn't a crime to tell someone you loved them and wanted to spend the rest of your life with them.
Stalking often wasn't taken seriously until it was too late.
And she had just reached the too-late stage.
“Please, just let me stay here,” Samara said. “We don’t really know each other. Maybe we should spend some time together, get to know each other better before I go with you.”
“Silly girl.” He laughed. “We know each other. We love each other. And I can't wait for you to see the house I got you as a Christmas gift.”
As long as he had the gun—which he kept one hand on while the other dragged her to his car—she had no hope of getting away.
Her eyes darted about nervously, half hoping someone would come and half terrified that someone else would get mixed up inthis mess.
Despite his claims they were in love, she didn't even know his name.
