AllFreeNovel
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As my headlights round the corner, the scene unfolds in front of me. I hit the brakes, jostling the cab. A row of red brake lights line the road in front of Sylvia’s home. Voices carry on the wind. Flashlights bounce off the trees, the torches blurred by a cloud of cigarette smoke hanging over a crowd. There are at least two dozen people, some crowding the driveway, some leaning against the vehicles.
“Shit.”
Sylvia lifts her head of the seat, her eyes widening. “Where are we?”
“Your house.”
“What?Who are all these people?”
“Media. Reporters. It must’ve gotten out that you were found.”
Her jaw drops. “You’re not serious.”
“Yes—your disappearance has been all over the news.”
I stare at the line of cars and media vans, contemplating what to do. I begin mentally counting how much money I have so that we could get a hotel room somewhere far away from this mess. It’s all I can think to do.
“Drive, Rhett,” Sylvia demands, her eyes narrowed in defiance. “They’re not chasing me from my damn home.”
I admire her grit.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Take me tomyhouse.”
I dip my chin. “Okay then.”
I lock the doors and slowly drive down the center line of the usually quiet dirt road, now packed with vehicles. Wild-eyed faces swarm the windows, pointing flashlights. The cab of the truck turns into a dizzying discotheque of bouncing light.
“It’s them, it’s them!”someone shouts, triggering a rush of questions and accusations. A dozen voices begin screaming at us all at once. A hundred little knuckles tap the windows. Someone pounds on the hood.
The noise is almost deafening, triggering my fight or flight response.
All I can think is:Don’t run over anyone, don’t run over anyone…
I turn into Sylvia’s driveway and slam the brakes. “Stay here.”
I push out of the truck.
“Rhett—”
I slam the door.
I am blinded by a blast of camera flashes. I shield my eyes and yell over the noise. “The cops have been called. If one person sets foot on this property, they will be arrested for trespassing and harassment.”
With that, I turn and stalk back to the truck while a dozen questions are hurled in my direction.
“Mr. Cohen, is Sylvia Stone pregnant with your baby?”
“Is she okay?”
“We heard she was stabbed like her mom. Can you confirm?”
“Can you tell us the location of the barn where she was found?”
“Was there another letter?”
“Did you kidnap her?”
