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"Keep your eyes peeled," Jake murmured, his gaze trained on Matt's darkened house. "The killer could show up at any moment."
Fiona nodded, feeling a chill creep up her spine as she scanned their surroundings. The silence between them was heavy, laden with the unsaid emotions that had been building since they'd become partners.
Time seemed to stand still as they waited for the killer to appear. Fiona shivered, her nerves fraying with every passing minute. She glanced at Jake, who seemed just as tense as she was. She could almost feel the anticipation radiating off of him.
"Do you think he's gone?" she asked softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "What if he knows we're here?"
Jake shook his head slowly, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "I don't know," he said grimly. "But if he does...we'll be ready."
They continued to wait, their eyes glued to the house as each minute dragged by excruciatingly slowly. They stayed quiet, focused on the potential outcome, but Fiona couldn't help but feel Jake's presence beside her. Something between them felt different again, and it confused her. Jake had opened up to her now, but why? She was grateful he told her and grateful for their friendship... but it was still hard for her.
The longer they sat there in the car, the more Fiona began to think about her feelings for Jake. He had been so kind to her and had opened his heart up to her. She couldn't deny that as hard as she'd tried, she still had feelings for him.
She pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the world outside the car, staring into the darkness.
Any moment now, the killer could strike.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Rebecca stood in her dimly lit kitchen, slicing carrots with mechanical precision, the sky dark outside. She was alone, a silence enveloping the house that seemed to amplify the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board.
Her mind wandered back to the therapy session she had attended earlier that day, her first one. It felt strange to open up to a stranger about her deepest feelings and fears. One topic they had discussed was her long-lost brother, a subject she hadn't allowed herself to think about for years.
Is it possible he's still alive?she wondered.Could he be out there somewhere, lost and alone?
She paused, the knife hovering above the carrot. Her eyes welled up with tears as an ache settled into her chest. She wished she knew what had happened to him or where he was now. Had he suffered? Was his disappearance her fault in some way? She was only a child too, but couldn't she have done more for him?
Rebecca shook her head, trying to dislodge the thoughts from her mind. She focused on the rhythmic motion of the knife, slicing through the vegetables with ease, each stroke bringing a momentary reprieve from her tortured thoughts. But soon, her mind drifted back to her life without him, how empty it felt.
Would we have grown up to be close friends? Would he have had my back during those turbulent teenage years?Rebecca speculated.
The memories of their childhood together rushed back in waves - the laughter, the games, the scraped knees from playing too roughly. She remembered the way he used to protect her when kids at school teased her, how he had made her feel safe.
"Everything could have been so different," she murmured, her eyes clouded with sadness.
A tear rolled down her cheek, splashing onto the cutting board with a soft patter. Rebecca took a deep breath, trying to steady herself and regain control over her emotions.
"Maybe… just maybe, he's still out there," she whispered into the quiet kitchen, daring to hold onto that sliver of hope. "And maybe, one day, we'll find each other again."
With that thought firmly planted in her mind, Rebecca wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and resumed cutting the vegetables. The darkness of the room seemed to close in around her as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving her to navigate the murky waters of her past alone.
The echoes of her whispered words still hung in the air as Rebecca continued to slice the vegetables, her hands moving with a rhythmic precision.
Suddenly, she heard a faint noise from behind her - a creak, as if someone had shifted their weight on the floorboards. Her pulse quickened, and her grip tightened on the knife.
"Who's there?" she called out, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart.
No response came, and for a moment, she wondered if she had imagined it.
But then the sound came again, louder this time, more insistent. She knew she was not alone.
"Show yourself," she demanded, her hand shaking as she clutched the knife like a lifeline. But more silence surrounded her, and she realized that she was being paranoid. She laughed to herself, shaking her head, and put the knife down on the cutting board. She'd lived alone for too long.
But before Rebecca could take another breath, a figure emerged from the shadows.
A man in a ski mask lunged forward and grabbed her from behind, knocking the knife out of her hand.
Rebecca screamed and threw her arms out to protect herself, but the man's large fist came down upon the top of her head, sending a wave of pain through her. Rebecca's mind began to fade, even as she struggled to keep her eyes open.
