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“I’m doing pretty well, but I did have a question.”
“Of course.”
“Is Corporal Rollington still locked away?”
She hesitated, which caused another lump to form in my throat. “As far as I know. Why?”
“It may be nothing, but I had a strange phone call, and my office was broken into.”
“I hate to ask you this, but the call, was it similar to what you remembered?”
It had all started with a few phone calls, no one on the other line at first. Then it had escalated to heavy breathing. After that, laughter. Then nothing for three weeks until he stood outside the hospital where I’d worked in Baltimore. Two days later I was taken. At least remembering the details no longer made me sick to my stomach.
“No, entirely different, but the feel was the same. I’m not certain if that makes any sense.”
“Actually, it does, but let me double check on his status. Don’t jump to any conclusions. And I hate to say this, but it’s entirely possible given the media coverage that there is a copycat out there.”
I thought about what she was saying and closed my eyes. “Another freak trying to destroy my life?”
“But he didn’t, Chasity. You survived and I have a feeling you’re doing fantastic.” While Detective Martin’s sentiment was genuine, I sensed a small amount of concern. The case had been very personal for her. In her diligence, we’d become friends of sorts.
“I know. I’ll just feel better if I know for certain.”
“What number can I call you at?”
I’d changed my phone number, but I’d refused to alter my identity like several members of law enforcement had suggested. That had left me without a comfort zone when he wasn’t put behind bars for the rest of his life. He’d conned experts and the jury into believing he’d been out of his mind, PTSD to blame. That meant there was a good chance he’d be ‘cured’ one day, set free to torture other women. After supplying her with the number, a sick sense of knowing remained firmly planted in the back of my mind.
The nightmare wasn’t over. If I was right, this time he’d make good on his threat that if he couldn’t have me, no one could.
* * *
Snake
Art supplies.
What a crock of shit.
Not only were they expensive, but I had no clue what I was looking for and that sent another wave of irritation throughout my mind. I’d snarled at the clerk who’d tried to steer me in the right direction, finally purchasing way too much crap.
All because a sexy little nurse pretending to be something she wasn’t had suggested it.
I’d dumped it in the cab of the truck, uncertain it would ever see the light of day. As I stopped at the grocery store for dogfood and a few supplies, I was determined to hole myself up in the ranch. Or maybe I’d go to the cabin in the mountains where I could really get some peace without being pestered.
That sounded like a plan to me.
I took long strides into the grocery store, yanking one of the baskets into my hands, grumbling under my breath.
I’d draw a picture for her alright, but she wouldn’t be happy with the results. Half laughing, I started dumping cans of food into the cart, not caring what I purchased. I had no taste for food any longer, couldn’t care less about eating. The only thing I had a taste for was…
Ah, fuck. Her sweet pussy.
I dragged my tongue across the seam of my mouth, my grip on the handle white knuckled. When I turned the corner without looking, the hard cracking sound was as jarring as the direct hit with another shopper.
While the beautiful lady opened her eyes wide, I narrowed mine. Did karma hate me that badly?
“Snake,” Chasity said, her wide eyes immediately flicking with anger. “You missed your appointment today.”
“It’s funny. I didn’t see the sheriff come banging at my door.” The same tightness in my chest I’d experienced before appeared out of nowhere.
