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1:19 P.M.
So far, they had been driving in silence.
Samara didn't know what to say to her stalker that wasn't going to make him angry. She could always try jumping out of the car again, but she suspected he wouldn’t just keep driving. He would come back for her, tie her up, lock her in the trunk, or kill her on the spot. She wasn't sure, but she knew he would do something. Even if it did work, he would only start killing againto get her back, maybe go after Asher again, or her brother, or Michael.
She couldn’t risk it.
This time, she was staying right where she was.
When the stalker had started harassing her, she had disabled the GPS on her phone because she hadn't wanted him to use it to find out where she lived. Obviously that had been pointless as he had figured it out anyway, but since they were good friends, she had told Michael how to enable it again remotely. Maybe subconsciously she had always known that the stalker situation was going to end badly.
Sooner or later Michael and the others were going to realize she was gone. Even if they didn't, someone would find Asher, call the cops to report an abandoned toddler, her nephew would be identified because there would already be reports of his abduction, then they would figure out that she had traded herself.
It was inevitable they would come looking for her, and Michael should know to re-enable the GPS tracking on her phone. Once he did that, they would be able to find her. All she had to do was try not to make this man angry until someone came for her.
That seemed doable.
Just sit here, keep her mouth shut, her hands folded in her lap so that he knew she wasn't a threat to him, and wait.
“I can't wait to show you the cabin,” the man said, a little nervously like they were on a first date and he wanted to impress her but also not come on too strongly.
It looked like her sit here quietly and wait plan was out the window.
“I decorated it,” he continued, “for Christmas. I wanted it to be special for when you came.”
“Umm, thank you,” Samara said. Just a few hours ago sheand Michael had been decorating her bonsai Colorado Blue Spruce when she’d decided she wanted to try doing something Christmassy. Now she was pretty sure she hated Christmas even more than she had before. She didn't want to see this man’s cabin, and she didn't care that he had decorated it, she just wanted to go home with Michael.
How ironic that she had finally found someone she wanted to share her life with, someone who actually made her feel safe and wanted, and who made her doubt that her suicide attempt was something she had to make up for, and now she might never get to find out what could be between them. She and Michael might have spent the rest of their lives happily married, raising kids, then enjoying retirement and grandkids, but now she could be dead before they ever had a chance.
“You’re welcome.” He turned his head toward her and smiled. It was a shy smile like he didn't really have much confidence in himself.
Why didn't she remember him?
They must have met somewhere before. He was too obsessed with her for them not to have had some physical contact at some point.
But where?
And when?
She had to figure out his name. How could she find out without outright asking him? He thought that she knew who he was, in all the messages he had sent her, he had never signed them with his name. If she let on that she had no idea who he was and why he was obsessed with her, it was going to make him angry.
That was the last thing she wanted.
“So, uh, thank you for looking after Asher so well,” she said. He had at least been true to his word in regard to her nephew. He had let him go exactly like he’d said he would, and he’d evengone to the trouble of getting Asher the lunch that Hannah had been going to make for him.
“Of course,” the man said, smiling at her again. He had a creepy smile, it was borderline insane, which fit in with his clearly delusional behavior.
“I guess one day you could be his uncle,” Samara said. It was kind of lame, but she was hoping he took the bait and filled in the gap there, supplying his name. She felt like if she could just get his name, she would at least have something to work with, and right now she needed something—anything—even something small.
“Uncle Dante, I like the sound of that.”
Dante.
She was sure she didn't know anyone called Dante. Samara wracked her brain trying to come up with every place she had ever been and everyone she had ever met to try to find a Dante. She came up empty. As far as she knew, she had never met a Dante. But they didn't have to have ever really come into contact for him to fixate on her.
Her trick to get him to say his name had worked. Could she be lucky a second time and get him to tell her how they’d met?
“Dante?”
