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“Oh, are you sure?” She looked around the restaurant, which had mostly cleared out after the lunch rush. “I feel like I didn’t do much today.”
“Are you kidding? You were a huge help. Not having to be constantly refilling coffee and getting drinks made it feel like I was almost on vacation.” She nudged at Casey’s arm. “Go on. I’m sure your feet are tired from doing all that running around today. I remember what it was like when I first got started waitressing.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Casey hedged, obviously not wanting to disappoint Mom.
“I’m sure. Why don’t you come back tomorrow when the boys are heading into work? We can do the same thing. Then, when you are ready, we can discuss longer days.”
“Okay.” She reached around her back and plucked the strings of her small apron, untying it and folding it in her hands. She offered it to Mom, who took it with a warm smile.
“I’ll put this under the counter for you to use when you get in tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” Casey turned to us as we stood waiting. “Umm, will one of you give me a ride?” She was biting her lip, hesitation written clearly all over her.
We looked at each other, a silent conversation happening between our eyes before I turned back to our girl. “We already told you, you never have to worry. We will always be there for you, sugar. I’ll give you a ride.”
“I’ll just go grab my bag from the back, then.” She hitched her thumb in the direction of the staff room, which was nothing more than a small table with a shelf of cubbies for any belongings they had.
“I’ll be waiting,” I assured her, grinning as she ducked her head and hurried off through the swinging door.
Mom gave us both waning looks before smiling at us and heading behind the counter to put Casey’s apron away and grab the coffeepot for more refills. Brent tossed several bills on the table, and we headed outside together.
“Tonight, we leave the door open.” He grunted as we walked the few feet to where my Mustang was parked.
I grinned wickedly. “We left the door open last night.” And little Miss Casey went straight to her room to get off on what she heard. There was no mistaking the sound of her muffled cry when she came last night. The walls aren’t thin, but they aren’t soundproofed either.
“Tonight, the door stays open… wider.” His eyes danced with whatever mischief was playing out in his head.
“And we leave a light on,” I added.
“Perfect.”
Hearing the door open, we both looked to see Casey jogging toward us, her full tits bouncing under the diner t-shirt. Watching her, like a pack of wolves tracking our prey. Brent groaned low in his throat, sounding more like he was the wounded animal instead of the predator. He turned to me and grabbed me behind the neck, and slammed his hot mouth down on mine for a short, rough kiss. I knew we would both be on edge until we were finally able to claim her as our own.
I only hoped we would survive each other until then.
Thirteen
CASEY
I looked downat the small pile of dirty clothes. With a sigh, I gathered everything up in my arms and carried them down the hall to the laundry room. After only wearing the same few shirts and jeans for weeks, I was fairly sick of them. I had been able to take advantage of long layovers throughout my journey to make use of nearby laundromats, so at least I hadn’t been wearing the samedirtyclothes the whole time. But I was ready to trash them all and buy new things. Unfortunately, that would have been wasteful, and I needed to save all the cash I could.
After shoving them into the washer, I wandered into the office Ethan had told me I could use. I sat down in the comfortable chair and hesitantly hovered my hand over the mouse, not sure if I wanted to know the progress of the manhunt for the Castle Killer. If they had caught him, that meant I could go home. On the other hand, if he were still evading the FBI, well, I suppose it wouldn’t be a terrible hardship to continue hiding out here.
Finally, I grabbed the mouse and opened up a browser, clicking on the search bar. With mechanical movements, I typed inCastle Killerand paused for a second before hitting enter. Instantly, multiple headlines popped up, making me swallow hard. I clicked on the first one and almost immediately wanted to throw up.
The picture they used of me was my high school graduation photo. It wasn’t a bad picture, but I don’t know why I hadn’t expected it. With no known pictures of the man who was responsible for multiple murders, it was only common sense that they would plaster the pictures of his victims instead. As the only surviving victim, I made for a sensational story.
I stared, unblinking, at eighteen-year-old me with a mixture of dismay and horror. I didn’t want my picture out there. I didn’t want my name linked with his at all. It was making national news, and that meant that the people who knew me would soon know my story. With my chest tight and my eyes burning, I began to read what they had written.
Casey Rivers, age 22, is the only known survivor of the infamous Castle Killer. Currently, the whereabouts of the serial killer are unknown. The Castle Killer is known to have kidnapped, tortured, and murdered at least seven women between the ages of 20 and 25.
Casey Rivers was found, naked and covered in blood, wandering outside the dwelling of a man known as John Greene. A passing driver, Ann Benton, saw the young woman and stopped to help when Casey collapsed. It is known that Casey was missing for five days before escaping the killer. She was traumatized and dehydrated but otherwise healthy. The same day she was discovered wandering the streets, Megan Handford, also age 22, was found dead in a field on the outskirts of the once peaceful small coastal town of Castle Grove, California.
It has been determined that John Greene is not his real name, and sources say that he never showed his face to anyone. His identity remains a mystery.
Casey Rivers has not been available for comment. A source close to the family informed the media that she has not been seen for weeks and is presumed to be in hiding.
I couldn’t read anymore. I closed out the browser and pushed away from the desk, making the chair fly backward. Without stopping to fix the chair, I ran to the bathroom and slid to the floor in front of the toilet, and heaved until there was nothing left in my stomach.
