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“Well, maybe if he’d done it before, there might be something about him online.”
“I don’t know,” I say, clutching the blanket as though it could somehow protect me from all of this. “I doubt he’s the kind of guy to allow a story like that to get out.”
“Right, but surely if he’s done it before, these women might have filed police reports or something like that? There has to be some kind of trail, something we can look into.”
I shrug my shoulders, and before I know it, she has her phone in her hand. “What’s his last name?” she asks, already typing into her search bar.
“Ummm,” I start, thinking back to the name I saw scrawled on the top of his consent form for his tattoo. “His full name is Alexander Reid, but it’s super common. I doubt you’ll find anything.”
“We can always try,” she says before getting busy in her search. She rolls onto her back and holds her phone above her face so that we can both see the screen, and I watch as she starts clicking on random links.
Nat searches for about ten minutes before finding a news article. As she reads through it, I look away, certain we’re not going to find anything, only as she gasps, my gaze shoots back to her phone. “What?” I rush out.
“Holy shit,” she says, her eyes widening as she continues scanning through before scrolling back up and pointing out sections. “Look here. Decorated soldier discharged from the military after the murder of his mother, Francis Reid.”
“What?” I say again, my eyes widening as I grab the phone from her hand and start looking over the article. “Alex told me his mom abandoned him and he lived in foster care until he aged out, and then joined the military. He said she died while he was on tour.”
Nat scoffs. “I think he might have fudged the details just a little there.”
“Shit,” I mutter, continuing to scroll. “It says here that he was never caught. After killing his mom, he basically became a ghost, and there’s a message for citizens to be on the lookout and exercise caution if they come across him. Don’t interact, and call 911.”
“Fuck, girl. I really don’t like this.”
“Are you sure this is the same Alex?” I ask, my heart racing. “There could be a million Alex Reids out there.” Nat gives me a blank stare before clicking on the attached image, and as if on cue, a photo of Alex appears on the screen, dressed in his military uniform. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Nat agrees.
My heart shatters, feeling as though everything I’ve come to love about Alex has been nothing but a cold lie, and while we haven’t known each other for long, I had thought there was a real chance at a future together. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t even a little close to thinking about marriage and kids or any of that stuff, but what I felt for him—feel—is as real as it gets.
Rolling onto my back, I stare up at the ceiling, and before I know it, Nat crashes, leaving me with nothing but my torturous thoughts and the tears I’m desperately trying to hold back. I’m not the girl who cries over a man, but he made a fool out of me.
It’s almost two in the morning when a text comes through on my phone, and I reach over to the small bedside table, scooping it up. My breath catches in my throat when I find Alex’s name on my screen, and for a long moment, I simply stare at the notification, not wanting to open it and actually read what he’s written.
My hands shake, and as my nerves get too much to handle, I pull myself out of bed and walk into Nat’s living room, curling up on the couch with her throw blanket, still staring at the phone.
Another ten minutes pass before I finally find the balls to open the text, and when I do, my heart begins to race.
Alex - Where are you, Mace?
I stare at the words for way too long, knowing I shouldn’t respond, but the way he calls me Mace is my kryptonite. Hearing the nickname come out of his mouth every day has done something to me that I can’t even begin to explain.
My fingers hover over the screen, trying to work out what the hell I’m supposed to do, when another text comes through.
Alex - There’s nowhere you can go where I won’t find you.
Alex - Don’t keep me waiting.
Fuck. Needing this to stop, I start typing out a response, despite knowing that all I’m doing is playing into his vile game of cat and mouse.
Kyah - This needs to stop. I’m done, Alex. It’s over.
Alex - *MULTIMEDIA TEXT*
My brows furrow as an image comes through, and without even a second of hesitation, I open the picture to find a screenshot of a Google map, pinning my exact location. Only there’s a second pin—his location—and if I’m right, if I’m seeing this properly, he’s a lot closer than I could have ever imagined.
My heart comes to a dead stop, fear pounding heavily through my veins.
He’s not just close by, he’s in this fucking apartment.
