Chapter 30
Aubree
It’s late afternoon at Slice Slice Baby, and the usual hum of conversation and sizzling ovens is starting to wind down. School let out a while ago, so the rush of teenagers has tapered off to a quiet trickle of customers. I rub my temple, a dull headache forming from a day of slinging dough, mixing sauces, and managing the constant chatter of orders. My mother stands behind the counter, reorganizing our brand-new menus for what feels like the hundredth time.
“You need a break,” she insists, her brow furrowed with maternal concern. “You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends like this, Aubree. You’ve been back for a couple of weeks, and you haven’t stopped once to breathe.”
I sigh, busy punching an order into the system. “I’m fine, Mom. Really.”
She gives me a pointed look. “That’s what you always say right before you crash.”
The computer beeps, confirming the order, and I tear off the receipt. “Well,” I respond quietly, “I can’t exactly take time off. Not when we’re still picking up the pieces around here.”
Her gaze softens, and she sets the menus down, coming around the counter to lay a gentle hand on my arm. “Aubree, I see how exhausted you are.” She hesitates, then touches on the subject I’ve been avoiding all day. “And I know you haven’t heard from Boone in a few days.”
The mention of Boone’s name sends a pang through me—like a needle prick in my heart. “He’s been busy, I guess,” I say, trying to keep my voice light. “I know he’s got a lot going on in Saint Pierce.”
Mom’s expression turns sympathetic. “You miss him, don’t you?”
I force a small laugh, feigning a casualness I don’t feel. “Yeah. I do. I miss him… a lot. But maybe this is just the way it is, you know? We live in different places, and life is hectic. I can’t expect him to put his whole career on hold just to call me every night.”
She opens her mouth like she’s about to protest, but then closes it. After a moment, she steps in and pulls me into a quick hug. I hug her back, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. I didn’t realize until this moment how much I need the comfort.
“You’ll figure it out,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “One step at a time. Now, I have a meeting with our realtor about some changes to the house. You going to be okay closing up alone tonight?”
I step back and nod, forcing a smile. “Of course. Stuart’s already headed home early for once, but I can handle it. There’s not much left to do.”
She gives me one last searching look before grabbing her purse. “Lock the door as soon as you’re done, okay?”
“Will do, Mom.”
About an hour later, the last straggle of customers has left, and the shop is officially closed. I flip the OPEN sign to CLOSED, lock the door, and go through my usual closing routine. Wiping down the counters, putting leftover dough in the fridge, loading a small tray of unbaked pizza crusts into the walk-in cooler. Every so often, my mind flicks to Boone. Where is he now? Probably busy with some intense security job, or maybe he’s just buried under a mountain of work. Part of me worries—what if he’s drifting away? And I hate that I feel that dread creeping in, but I can’t help it. Love can be terrifying when you don’t know where you stand.
I push the thought aside and focus on brushing the last bits of flour off the stainless-steel prep table. The overhead lights buzz softly, casting long shadows across the now-empty dining area. I can’t help but glance outside, at the dimly lit street. It’s quiet tonight, just the glow of streetlamps and the occasional car passing by.
Finally, I turn off the majority of the lights, leaving only a small overhead bulb in the kitchen. I’m about to head to the back to grab my purse and keys when I hear it:
The jangling of the front door.
My heart jumps. I locked that door—didn’t I?
“Sorry, we’re closed!” I call out automatically, stepping out from behind the prep area.
The figure in the doorway is tall, and for a split second my stomach seizes with fear—someone’s broken in before, it wouldn’t be the first time. Then the silhouette steps forward into the faint glow of the light. My breath catches.
“Earl?” I say, surprised. He’s clutching a baseball cap in his hand, his expression oddly tense. Earl’s always been a loyal customer. He’s older than me by a couple of years, thinning hair, kind smile. Usually harmless. He was here the night the brick was thrown through the window.
“Hey there, Aubree,” he says, voice shaky. “Sorry to come by so late, I just… wanted to talk.”
I exhale, forcing a smile despite the confusion roiling in my gut. “Well, we’re closed, but for you, I can make an exception. Everything okay?”
He doesn’t move from where he stands, just stares with an intensity that’s putting me on edge. “I had to see you,” he mutters, stepping closer. “You haven’t been returning my calls.”
Calls? I blink, shaking my head. “Earl, I don’t… think I got any calls from you. I’m sorry. Things have been crazy.”
His grip tightens on the cap, knuckles bleaching white. “I used to come in every day, you know. You were always so sweet. I asked you out once, remember?”
A faint memory tugs at me—Earl joking, something about “we should get coffee sometime.” I brushed it off. A polite “maybe sometime,” accompanied by a laugh, because he was a friendly regular, not someone I’d date. “That was… oh, Earl, I’m sorry if I led you on or anything. I just…”
His eyes narrow. “You turned me down,” he corrects, taking another step. The overhead light in the kitchen catches on his face, casting harsh shadows that make him look older, angrier. “You laughed. And you told me you’d never date a customer.”
I swallow hard, dread coiling in my stomach. “Earl, I don’t remember that exactly, but if I offended you—”
He barks out a low, humorless laugh. “Offended me? No, not offended. Just heartbroken. I loved you, Aubree. More than you even realized. And you turned me down like I was nothing.”
My mind whirls, struggling to keep up. “Earl… we never— I mean, I barely know you.” My pulse quickens as something cold settles into my veins. This is not the Earl I thought I knew.
He stiffens, a strange mania in his eyes. “That’s your fault,” he hisses. “I tried to show you I could take care of you. But you wouldn’t see it. You pushed me aside.”
My breath catches. “Earl,” I say slowly, raising my hands to try to keep him calm. “I— I’m sorry if you felt that way. But you can’t just—”
“You didn’t just break my heart,” he says, voice trembling with anger. “You humiliated me. All those times I came in, tried to talk to you, and you brushed me off. That’s when I decided to show you that you needed me. That you’d have nowhere else to turn.”
My blood runs cold. “What do you mean?”
He shifts closer, looming over me, and I realize how tall he actually is compared to my average height. “All those letters, the brick through your window, the phone calls. That was me. Trying to scare you so you’d run to me for comfort.” He tightens his jaw, eyes blazing with a twisted sense of hurt. “You never did, though. You had that meddling mother who hired security. And that scumbag stepfather tried to meddle too, but that wasn’t me. I just wanted you to need me, Aubree.”
A fresh wave of horror slams into me. So Charles hired people to track me, but Earl was also threatening me on his own? Is that why it felt so relentless, from so many directions? I step back, heart hammering. “You… you broke into my shop?”
His laugh is brittle. “It was easy. Your security system was all messed up after that fiasco with Charles. Figured I’d take another opportunity to scare you. And still, you didn’t call me. You called him.” He spits the last word, like referencing Boone is a bitter taste on his tongue.
My chest tightens, adrenaline surging. I need to get out, get away. But he’s blocking the door, and my phone is in the back. “Earl, this isn’t right,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm, though my legs are shaking. “You’re just upset. Let’s… let’s talk to someone, get you help—”
He snaps. Before I can register the movement, he lunges, gripping my wrist in a crushing hold. I gasp, trying to yank free, but his grip is like iron. “No more help,” he snarls, spittle flying from his lips. “We’re doing this my way.”
“Earl, stop!” I twist, attempting to land a kick, but he anticipates it, sidestepping and jerking my arm painfully behind my back. A cry escapes my throat, sharp and terrified.
His breath is hot against my ear. “You could’ve had me, Aubree,” he mutters, voice raw with desperation. “We could’ve been happy. But you never gave me a chance.”
I grit my teeth, tears stinging my eyes at the pain in my wrenched shoulder. “You’re hurting me!” I manage, trying to dig my nails into the arm that’s pinning me.
He doesn’t let go. Instead, he lurches us toward the back, where the kitchen lies. A million thoughts tumble through my mind—my mother, Boone, the helplessness of it all. How is this happening?
I bite my lip hard, trying not to scream in panic. If I can just get him to relax his grip for a second, I might slip free.
But Earl’s bigger, stronger, and clearly unhinged. Before I know it, he’s pulling something from his pocket—a coil of thick rope. My stomach drops. “No—don’t—” I start, heart thudding wildly.
“Shut up,” he hisses, forcing me to the floor. My knee hits the tile hard, sending a jolt of pain up my leg. He uses his weight to press me down, and I thrash, but it’s no use. The rope snakes around my wrists, pinching the skin.
Terror floods every inch of me, my mind screaming at me to fight. I twist my head, trying to catch a glimpse of the exit, but he’s half on top of me, pressing his forearm into my back. If I were calmer, I might recall the self-defense lessons Boone taught me, but right now, I’m choking on pure panic.
Within moments, Earl has my wrists bound, my ankles too, and I can’t do more than squirm. Sweat drips into my eyes, and I blink it away, chest heaving.
Earl shoves me onto my side, face twisted with triumph. “You see?” he says, voice low. “You could’ve made this easier, but you forced my hand.” He stands, glaring at me like he’s deciding what to do next. “I can’t leave you here now. You’ll just call the cops, call that damn security company. No, we’re going somewhere. Just you and me.”
I shake my head violently, tears burning hot behind my eyelids. My voice catches in my throat, coming out as a ragged plea. “Earl, please… you don’t have to do this.”
He lifts me by my bound arms, ignoring my cry of pain, and starts dragging me through the back exit. I can feel the rough concrete under me as he half-carries, half-drags my body outside. The night air hits my face, but there’s no relief in it, just the stench of garbage from the dumpster and the distant hum of traffic.
“Help!” I try to yell, but he clamps a hand over my mouth so hard my lips grind against my teeth, cutting them. The metallic taste of blood seeps in, and I gag.
“Shut up,” he repeats, breath ragged. “You’re mine now.”
He stumbles with me toward a parked van that I barely register. The back doors are open, the interior dark. He hoists me onto the floor, and I land with a sickening thud. My vision blurs, spots dancing at the edges, and I hear the slam of the doors behind me.
The engine roars to life. My heart pounds in my ears so loud I can hardly breathe. I wriggle, trying to find any give in the ropes, but he’s bound me tight. Above my panicked gasps, I hear Earl mumbling to himself, something about “finding a place where no one can stop us.”
No. This can’t be real. My mother is at home. Boone is away in Saint Pierce, not even answering his phone regularly. And I’m here, kidnapped by a man I thought was a harmless regular—a man who’s been behind the threats all along.
The van lurches forward, and I tumble onto my side, tears streaming down my cheeks. My mind screams Boone’s name, but my lips are too dry, too swollen. I can’t cry for help. I can’t fight. All I can do is stare at the dusty floor of the van and pray someone figures out what happened.
Because right now, I’m alone. Completely at Earl’s mercy. And I’ve never been more terrified in my life.